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Magnolia will love it.
The front stairs seem much longer and deeper when I’m drunk, my boots ten pounds heavier, but at least the heels on these are only an inch high. There’s no way I would have made it this long in my stilettos. I would have busted my ass a long time ago.
I burst into laughter at the thought…me sprawled out on the floor of Southern Roots, my dress flinging up and showing everyone my goodies, and Jake eyes me as he reaches for the doorknob, curious as to what I’m laughing at but doesn’t ask. It could be any number of things.
“Hey,” someone says on the porch.
I jump so hard I bump into Jake.
“Jesus, Ruby!” he almost shouts.
“Hello to you too.”
The tip of her cigar burns orange against the darkness as she takes another puff. She’s leaning against the railing just out of reach from the front porch light. So, she just sits out here in the dark, then. Purposefully. Casually.
Maybe she’s a vampire too.
“Night, sis,” he says flatly, turning the knob and bumping the door open. He doesn’t want to be around the buzz kill with a bob any longer than necessary.
I wave my goodbyes.
“Wait,” she says, clipped, and her stilettos make their way to us.
“Goodnight, Ruby,” he says again pointedly, tugging me along. He doesn’t want to wait.
“Fucking wait a second.”
That makes him go still.
She doesn’t stop until she’s well into the light, and she takes another puff as she looks down at my boots. “Are those…?” She meets my eyes with an unreadable expression, though her jaw flickers with something that looks like anger. “Did you get those out of the closet?”
Jake rushes in so I don’t have to defend myself. “I told her she could wear them. She’ll put them back.”
She holds up a hand to silence him. “Do you know whose those are?”
“Yours, I’m guessing. I said she’ll—”
“Take them off, Scarlett. Right now.”
“Ruby,” he counters, the beginnings of irritation lacing his words. “She’ll take them off in the room.”
She steps closer, ignoring him, pointing her finger at me. The unreadable expression has turned menacing.
I want to cower. To slip them off as she asks to make her stop, but I don’t cower. To anyone.
I hold my ground.
He protectively tucks me behind him. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Jake, I’m giving you one chance. She better take those off, so help me.” She’s shaking now, and I swear I see tears shimmer at the edges of her eyes.
I didn’t think sociopaths could produce tears.
“Those are Rose’s.”
It takes him a moment to digest that. “Wait…Rose’s?”
“Yes. Now tell her to get them off her skanky little feet.”
