Melanie’s face turns red. “That’s just it. I don’t want to talk about sex. Why does everyone make such a big deal about it? Why do they care that I’m not doing it? It’s my business and no one else’s!”
Her voice grows louder and louder as we approach the school, and even though I’m glad about what I’m hearing her say, I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.
“You’re right, Mel. It’s no one’s fucking business but yours what you do, except your mom and dad. You tell those boys to fuck off because you’re not into them or their dicks. And if they keep pressuring you or talking shit, tell them your uncle Gabe is going to find them when they’re tooling around town and make sure they understand that you’re a fucking lady and deserve to be treated with respect. We clear?”
She giggles, still blushing. “I’m going to get in so much trouble if a teacher hears me say that.”
“Then don’t let the teacher hear. Or better yet, tell them what the fuck the boys are saying to you.”
Melanie’s grin disappears as she shakes her head. “No, I’ll handle this myself.”
“Good. And if they give you any more trouble, you tell me, and I’ll handle it. No one fucks with my people, Mel, and that includes you.”
“Thanks, Gabe. You’re the best.”
“Now get out of here and go to school. Wait. Give Roux a pat first. She’ll whine all the way home if you don’t.”
Melanie reaches into the back seat to give Roux a scratch behind the ears, hops out of the Bronco, and swings her book bag on her back. With a wave, she trots up the sidewalk with her head held high.
Good kid. I just hope I don’t have to kill someone for her.
Then I think about Scarlett Priest and the prospect of prison if she told anyone what happened yesterday.
If I’m going down, I’ll scare the living hell out of those kids first. Because that’s what you do for family, even if they’re not blood.
Eleven
Scarlett
My almond-butter toast sits untouched as I stare at the screen with my mouth hanging open. Forget HGTV for a hot second, because watching sweaty men try to put their fists through each other’s face is far more riveting than listening to Joanna Gaines describe all the ways you can use shiplap, and that’s saying something.
It’s brutal, merciless ... and yet beautiful all the same. I don’t even recognize myself right now, because I’ve never had thoughts like this in all my life.
My phone vibrates against the cream-and-pink china plate, and I practically jump out of my seat at the rattle. I slap my laptop closed like someone just caught me looking at porn. Which I might as well have been, because my heart is pounding, my palms are sweaty, and I can’t stop shifting in the chair.
I force myself to pull it together and answer.
“H—hello?” Despite my best efforts, I sound breathless.
“You okay, Scarlett? You sound winded.” This comes from Christine, who often dispenses with normal pleasantries as a matter of course.
“Fine. Fine. Sorry, just had to run across my apartment. Left my phone in the bedroom.” I cringe at my terrible delivery of the lie.
“Is this still a good time?” Ryan, Christine’s twin brother, asks. “If you need a minute—”
“She just said she was fine, Ry. Now, let’s get down to business. This month’s numbers are looking good. We’re still exceeding weekly gross-income targets, and your costs are holding steady. Don’t go getting any ideas about upping your finder’s fee, because I will fight you.”
Christine’s threat hangs in the air, and I can picture the petite brunette baring her teeth to illustrate it. Thankfully, I know how to handle her, so I agree and plant a flag in the ground, reserving my position for future arguments.
“I don’t have any plans to increase the fee at present, but I’m not saying I won’t in the future. You know it’s only a matter of time before someone copies Curated, and then I’ll be competing for product even more than I do now.”
“She’s got a point, Chris. Even you said the profit margin in this business is ridiculous. We have room if we need it to increase the fee,” Ryan says, taking my side.
Even though he can’t see it, I give him a chin jerk in solidarity. It has always taken two of us to overpower Christine, even as kids. She may be little, but she’s fierce. Exactly the kind of person you want on your side in pretty much any situation.
“And until the time comes that we need to increase the fee, it stays where it is,” Christine replies, putting the matter to rest with the finality of her tone. “Now, moving on—”
“I want to start a stationery line,” I say, interrupting Christine as I reach for my coffee. “Something we can sell online as well. I want to increase our presence and inclusiveness, since not everyone can get here on a Friday to the store.”