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She jerks her head to the right. Her right.
“Okay,” I say and head to her left.
She follows.
As we thread through the stragglers and toward the side of the house we’re sneaking around, something shoots out in the distance. Something along the driveway.
A woman with a black bun.
She’s pushing something along the cobblestone and running.
Farrah sees the same thing and pauses beside me. Squints to see better. “Nanna…?”
Nanna makes a hard left toward the roundabout, and we can see what she’s pushing better.
We cover our mouths in tandem.
Harris.
She’s making a getaway with her son.
Someone explodes out of the back door, the door bouncing off siding with a crack. Frederick, the red-haired butler. “Magnolia!” he shouts.
She startles, as does everyone else. Then shoots him a look. How dare he be so disruptive?
“Nanna took off with Harris!” He points in the direction she’s running.
Everyone looks. Some gasp.
Ruby runs up behind us as best she can in her heels. “Well, don’t just stand there with your dick in your hand. Go get him!”
He and another butler take off after them across the lawn but Nanna is already out of sight, the wood line obscuring our view. She might be old, but she’s not slow.
Farrah nudges into me. “Go get Jake,” she manages, fixated on the wood line where they disappeared. Worry lines have etched their way across her forehead.
Shit. Right. I jolt into motion. Weave between the guests fixed into place.
Halfway to the kitchen door, my foot catches on something and I stumble. Mimosa flings from my glass and I hear a cracking noise. Shattering. Pain bites against the side of my hand.
My feet can’t find their hold on this immaculately cut lawn, and all I can do is watch helplessly as I fall into the grass with a shriek, then slide, face-down, about a foot.
More gasps. Someone titters.
“Are you all right, dear?” someone says near me. A hand shoots down to help me up.
I reach with my left hand but notice it’s slick with blood.
Oh God…
I reach up with my right instead.
When I’m pulled upright, I struggle to get my bearings.
The owner of the hand tsks. “What a mess you are.” But I don’t pay her much attention other than nodding my thanks. The blood…all the blood. The glass crushed in my hand when I tripped. I must have squeezed it. It sliced me open.
It’s hard to tell exactly where.
So much blood.
