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Probably not all that uncommon for rich and handsome Nascar drivers. But still…why mess with me like that?
To scare you off, mythoughts retort. So she can have him all to her crazy little self.
Not that some of what she said isn’t true; his family is a tough nut to crack. If you even want to try.
“She’s had a thing for him since middle school. What else did she tell you?” A sneer. “Or do I want to know?”
I debate saying anything. Farrah seems cool, but it is her family, after all.
I go for it anyway.
“She said she ended it because it’s better to be on the outside.”
She shakes her head, the ends of her slick dark hair gliding around her shoulders. “She really needs to get some help.” She doesn’t say it jokingly. Or offer any commentary.
We come to the edge of the concrete surrounding the pool and turn to look at the lawn full of people. Attendees are still streaming in from around the side of the house. Will they have enough seats? “You must be so proud of your aunt,” I offer as genuinely as I’m able. I don’t want to talk about Joanna in the blue dress anymore.
Her arm unwinds from mine, and she brushes her hair from her cheek. “She’s ambitious, I’ll give her that.” The lack of endearment in her voice is notable. She didn’t even try to cover it up. Maybe because we’re far enough away from other ears.
Her eyes make their way to me. “She’s my aunt by marriage.”
It takes me a moment to switch gears. “So, Harris is your biological uncle.” No wonder she doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the women in the family.
Something painful flashes behind her green irises. “He is.”
“Sorry about what happened to him,” I offer. I know it’s been awhile since he had the stroke, but it’s never an easy thing to see someone in such a state.
A solemn nod. “Thank you, Scarlett.”
Heavy silence settles around us and I allow it to linger until she wants to speak again. When she does, she steers the conversation back to Magnolia. “She’s always liked being the center of attention.” Her words drift lazily in thought. Almost like she’s talking to herself.
Her gaze rakes over the house. “And it comes easy in a small town like this when you have lots of money.”
My eyes search the crowd for Magnolia’s silver French twist and land on her almost immediately. She’s laughing and chatting it up with some guy in a suit. His elaborate comb over and paunchiness reminds me of either a preacher or a politician. I can practically smell the aftershave and corruption from here.
“They all want a piece of the pie,” she adds.
And I’m sure Magnolia lives for it. In fact, I’m certain of it. This is the first time I’ve seen her glow since I’ve been here. It’s like a shot of heroin to her veins.
Because with influence comes power, and as Jake said last night, it’s the one thing she loves more than money.
