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“Can you open it for me, please?”
“Mam?”
“Open the goddamn box, Rick.”
“There’s no need to get nasty, princess.”
“Then stop hiding shit from me. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
Jagger looks at me silently, shaking his head, and joins Eden’s side as Rick opens it for them.
“What’s all the ripped-up paper from?”
I pinch the edge of my nose in an attempt to divert an oncoming migraine.
“Luv, it’s just some shite he found online.”
“This looks like a handwritten music note, but maybe it was from a photo?” She says, reaching in and taking some pieces out to examine them.
“Princess, when Rick gets the results back from forensics, we can talk about it. Fancy a cuppa?” I say, my eyes urging Rick to disappear.
Eden tosses the lid back on the box and turns to me.
“Haze Evans, if you know what’s good for you, I suggest you start talking now.”
“I’ll be at the local precinct,” Rick quietly announces before departing. “Jones is out front checking on the cameras.”
I nod and my gaze goes back to Eden as I swipe my hand across my face, visibly pleading with her to just let this go.
But Eden is relentless; she isn’t going to give up, and there’s no point in looking at Jagger for support because I know he’s finding this scenario and me digging my own grave amusing.
Bloody bastard.
She’s got her arms across her chest and her bare feet planted firmly on the grey stone floor. Her face is stone cold, pissed off and I know a storm is brewing within her, just waiting to erupt and go all mad on me.
There’s no point hiding something that she’ll keep nipping at, so I tell her about the photos and Sierra.
“I don’t care about you posting things about me online, but when you go into my personal stuff, digitize it, and post it so millions of people can see it, that’s a step too far.”
“I have to agree with Eden,” Jagger buts in.
“Fuck off!” I say to him.
“Princess, it was random shite, obscured. You couldn’t even tell where it came from.”
“I don’t give a damn! That was my private space you made public. My journal!”
“You’re a touch overreacting, darling.”
She’s breathing out bloody fireballs.
“Wrong thing to say, bruv,” Jagger mutters, and I give him a bombastic side-eye, silently silencing him for eternity.
“Tomorrow, we’re filming in the desert. Maybe I should move back home!”
“Well, I couldn’t agree more with that, darling,” I yell back.
“Good. Because I meant alone. Far away from you invading my privacy!” she abruptly turns and heads up the stairs.
