Page 30 of The Alibi Club

“Red flag,” Lorna deadpanned.

“With dinner,” Jamie added weakly.

“You are a liar.”

“No seriously, he brought tacos. Sometimes.”

Lorna leaned down to Jamie’s seated level. “You deserve more. You know it. And you knew it then. But you lied to yourself. Because you liked the sex, maybe you even began to like…” Lorna motioned to Jamie with her hand.

Jamie said, “His name was Chaz.”

Lorna cocked her head and squinted her eyes as if his name couldn’t be more perfectly suited to her narrative and then continued, “Chaz, and you thought he’d eventually see how amazing you were. That he’d figure it out that he couldn’t live without you. But he didn’t. And you began settling for less and less. Maybe it got to a point where you realized you couldn’t even talk about taking a vacation together, let alone bring up the topic of commitment. Even using the term boyfriend in mixed company made him itchy and skittish. You knew it would freak him out if you put the slightest amount of pressure on him, because he would put the brakes on. So, you kept your secret. Hoped for more. And became the saddest version of yourself you could possibly imagine. And eventually, Chaz broke it off anyway.”

What kind of witchcraft was this? Jamie swallowed hard and her face became flushed. She pushed her hair behind her ear and tried to mount a defense. “We had an understanding.”

“You deserve more than understandings,” Lorna said flatly. “I’m not asking you to compromise.” Lorna finally backed away from Jamie and sat back down. “You shouldn’t ask yourself to, either.”

Jamie sat in silence for almost a minute, taking this in, realizing the she-witch was right. She said, “Okay.”

Lorna peered at her again. This time she took a little longer, the pause between them growing into an uncomfortable silence. Jamie finally said, “What?”

Lorna took a deeper breath. “I can usually spot dating problems easily. Most people suffer garden variety insecurity issues, jealousy, fear. Once they figure out how they’re standing in their own way, they can adjust. But you have something else going on. Something deeper I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Jamie squirmed in her chair as Lorna scrutinized her. “No, not so. I want to find someone. Build a life. All that stuff. I’m completely normal.”

Lorna nodded slowly, skeptically, and said, “Sure.”

It was a good long minute that Lorna peered at Jamie, making her feel naked, vulnerable, emotionally exposed. Jamie was about to swat her away like a fly when she finally relented and moved away. Was Jamie happy or just sedated by her small life? Between wine, her rescue dog Dash, and her tight-knit group of friends, it was hard to say. It was hard to go out in the world and meet people. She’d slowly become a little less inclined to accept invites. A little less fun. A little more agoraphobic. Home always seemed to sound better. It occurred to her that perhaps she was not happy. Perhaps she was hiding. Like she had always done, a survival tactic. But as she knew, surviving is not the same thing as living. She looked up at Lorna and said with a determination she felt in that moment, “I’m ready.”

Lorna nodded very slowly. “I hope so. I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” The corner of Lorna’s lip curled up, as if she already knew the ending. “I’ll have Oritte bring in the paperwork.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Shannon Parsons, Coming in Hot

LORNA

On a moonless, breezy October evening in her adopted coastal California town of Hermosa Beach, Shannon Parsons had a brush with death as she stepped out of her hot yoga class to spark up a Marlboro Light.

Lorna Gray sat reading the Beach Reporter and having an espresso across the street, witnessing Shannon quietly exhale, letting the nicotine flood her system. Probably made for a nice little buzz after exerting the Warrior 1 pose in ninety-eight-degree heat.

Shannon ambled in the general direction of her 300ZX convertible while she took another drag. She got a text and stopped mid-sidewalk when she heard someone shout, “On your left!” She looked up just in time to see two teen boys barreling toward her on electric bikes. Confused if the directional yell meant her left or their left, Shannon jumped the wrong way. One of the bikes caught the edge of her yoga mat, which was wedged under one arm, causing her to spin and lose her balance just as the other bike plowed into her, sending her yoga mat, phone, lip gloss, and cigarette pack sprawling all over Pier Avenue.

The teens looked back at her, worried expressions on their tanned faces until they realized she wasn’t hurt. “Sorry!” they yelled in unison as they hightailed it across the street, in the direction of The Strand, probably about to mow down more unsuspecting pedestrians.

“Little shits,” Shannon grumbled.

She bent down to collect her belongings just as an attractive Ken doll lookalike rushed to help her up.

Lorna peered over her paper, observing.

“Are you okay?” he said, as he held her elbow and pulled her up. The man had dirty blond hair, straight white teeth, and wore a linen button-down over expensive torn jeans. Surfer chic.

“I’m wearing bright pink spandex for exactly this reason!” Shannon said in an incredulous tone, the slight rasp of her smoker’s voice giving her a sexy quality her rescuer didn’t miss. “I practically glow in the dark.”

The guy smiled warmly. “It’s true. You are impossible to miss.” He had a dimpled grin, but then it crumpled as he lifted her arm. “Oh, your elbow … it’s bleeding.”

“Shit.” Shannon inspected her arm. A long scrape ran down it, more road rash than anything, nothing too serious. “Do you think I need medical attention or just some alcohol to fight off infection? I’ve heard a gin and tonic kills germs.” She winked as she asked.