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“Check her personal bank account,” Pinkie said, with one eyebrow raised.
Errol looked to Birdie. He had access to her accounts except for one. An account she opened while in Wayward, in light all of Errol’s litigious shenanigans.
“Birdie?” Errol asked, daring her to refuse.
She walked to the desk, standing beside Errol, and turned the computer monitor toward her so he couldn’t see her enter the password. As she logged in, her mind ran through how to explain a two-hundred-and-thirty-dollar balance and no other accounts to validate the Posse’s accusations.
She pressed the login button.
Seeing the balance, her jaw dropped, and she hunched over the monitor to make sure she was accurately reading the numbers on the screen, which was a cool, three million dollars. Well, three million two hundred and thirty dollars.
“I… How?”
Errol shook his head back and forth as if ashamed of Birdie’s felonious activities. “Ladies, I don’t know what to say, other than I will see that this money is properly moved to a capital account exclusively for this project and this project alone. Once construction begins, it will be moved to a CIP account otherwise known as a Construction in Progress Account. Please accept my sincere apologies. I appreciate that you came to me, as opposed to the authorities, as does my wife. Don’t you, dear?”
Birdie was nudged into a response and then stumbled over a, “Yes, thank you.”
Pinkie rose from her chair, much like a phoenix rising from the ashes, and said, with quite the imperial tone, similar to that of Jeanine who spoke with an English accent when calling out letter and number combinations during Bingo Night at the Wayward Community Center, “I do believe we came to the right place, Master Shepherd.” She turned to her partners in crime. “Ladies, shall we partake of the evening’s festivities now that all this ugly business is behind us?”
The women rose in solidarity, each of them shaking Errol’s hand as well as Ariana’s and summarily dismissing Birdie. As if scripted, and dramatically, if not truthfully, executed.
Ariana followed the women out of the office, looking over her shoulder toward her son with a gleam in her eye.
Birdie quickly closed the account and gave Errol a threatening glare.
To which he replied, “Marrying you might have been worth the trouble, after all. I do believe we should celebrate. A dress will be laid out on your bed this evening. I expect to see you in it, tonight.”
* * *
Hoursand five hard whacks to Errol’s backside later, Birdie exited the bedroom allowing the mother-son duo their perverse cuddle-time. The sounds coming from the room a little more gregarious than an innocent embrace, and probably inspired by a development project sure to make them more millions, but, whatever.
Rubbing her wrists at the extra effort she put toward Errol’s spanking, she realized her punitive measures had backfired as it only seemed to excite him more.
Like Flynn, she wasn’t going to let the door hit her in the ass when she finally was rid of this house and their twisted playdates.
“Birdie.”
She jumped and clutched her hand to her heart as Flynn emerged from the darkness, a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other.
“Jesus, Flynn. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Sorry. Follow me,” he said.
He led her to the back patio while taking several bites. Once outside and seemingly alone, she reached out her hand. “Don’t bogart the PB.” After a moment’s hesitation, he relinquished the jar and spoon.
She dipped the spoon in the Fix and Fogg crunchy peanut butter goodness and ran her tongue through the well of the spoon with her eyes rolling in the back of her head.
She spoke through the stickiness, “I gotta say, Flynn, as far as contraband stashes go, yours tops the list.”
“I appreciate your hearty enthusiasm, but could we please exhibit some restraint.” He pulled the jar out of her hand after she managed to snag a huge dollop.
“So,” Birdie said, working the peanut butter coating her mouth and swallowing. “What gives?”
“I’ve turned off the security cameras and created a small diversion for the goons Errol hired to keep you from escaping the house.”
“Yeah? Let me guess. I’m a flight risk after the Pinkie Posse’s ill-conceived attempt at a sting?”
She had informed Flynn of what transpired shortly after the fiasco, and he in turn advised Lucas. After which, Birdie continued to work the party and the room, trying to unravel why the four women would risk millions of dollars by all but handing it over to her snake of a stepson, um, husband.
