Page 103 of Pretty Lies

“You texted me to say that if I couldn’t even call you back, to call someone else when I need work,” Jennika said, each word coming out slow and measured. Like she had read that text message Della sent that morning after yet another day of no response or even a smoke signal from her friend.

J just died; Jennika almost died. Luis was MIA. The Outfit was out a lot of money because of the warehouse, and people were probably going to look at her father to replace the cost of what was lost. A whole new world of business was dropped into Della’s lap, and she was expected to learn it before she even understood what it meant to be in her hands.

But where had her friend been?

Getting drunk.

Probably popping something.

“I sent you that message this morning because I can’t keep cleaning up after you. Especially not right now. I needed you to understand. I can’t do it anymore,” Della said when they entered the stairwell at the end of the hallway leading to a lower floor. “I told you what I was doing today because I hoped you would get the point—I can’t worry about you right now when I have to deal with everything else. You’re a big girl, I’m not going to chase you for weeks while you go on one of your benders. I have shit to do, Jenn, God. Did you see my ma upstairs? She didn’t need this today.”

She could feel the difference in temperature from upstairs to down below. While the walls were finished, she had no doubt if someone peeled back the paint and plaster, one would find nothing but the cement of a basement.

The air even had that dampness.

“I, I, I, I,” Jennika said, her almost happy, sing-song tone making Della grow cold as they passed the double doors beyond the stairs leading into the room where caskets sat on display in five rows. “It’s always about you, right?”

A familiar clack had Della spinning around. She knew what made the sound before her gaze even landed on the Glock in Jennika’s hand. Terror swelled in her heart, but she did her very best not to show it in that second. She’d been stupid enough to let her emotions get the best of her, and she made a mistake because of it. Without even thinking.

Jennika lifted the gun a little, jerking the barrel to the right. “That one’s black.”

Della didn’t look behind herself; she made that mistake once today and let Jennika get behind her when her back was unprotected and weak. Here they were.

“Silver handles?” she asked. “Ma wanted silver.”

The girl who had been there the night Della had her first period—the same girl who had been the first person she called when she lost her virginity—made a face like something stunk, and a disgusted noise followed. “Really, silver for J? Gold would be better. Or even a pine box. What does it matter, he’s just going to rot.”

Della dragged in a quick breath and ignored the way it caught and tripped going through her throat into her lungs. Was she scared? That goddamn gun was still pointed at her. So, yeah. A little. She didn’t plan on showing it.

She glanced past Jennika to the hallway and the stairwell at the far end. If she shouted loud enough—screamed for all she was worth—then at least she could warn the people upstairs about the danger down below.

The quiet tittering from Jennika had her swallowing the scream when she told Della, “Is that really what you want—for your scream to be the last sound your mother ever hears you make? While she’s here planning the funeral of her son, Della? Really?”

“You don’t care.”

That much was clear.

Jennika smirked. “No, but you do. And I’m not done talking, so give me the chance to do that before I ruin your mother’s life for a second time, hmm?”

What?

She didn’t get the chance to ask the question.

Jennika was already talking again. “He didn’t love me—I didn’t know it until that day in the warehouse, though. I should have because why was I special, right?”

“J said once that he didn’t fuck with you at all. Why would you think he loved you?”

Blazing eyes turned on her.

Then, Jennika laughed.

The sound?

Crazy.

Manic, even.

“Not J,” Jennika said, keeping the gun pointed at Della as she closed the double doors behind her to shut out the hallway and stairwell. Then, she put her attention back to Della as she tossed aside her small purse. Neither of them looked to see where it landed. “Your brother wouldn’t get down with me like that—even though I tried.”