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They both looked at me.
“Think about it. You said she had no pictures on her walls?”
Hoda nodded.
I kept on. “That says she either doesn’t like pictures or she doesn’t have anyone close to her. Did people call her? Did it sound like she made plans to go out with friends or talk to people on the phone?”
Hoda thought about it, then shrugged. “She likes pictures. I know that’s not the case. I did get a glimpse into her back room once and it was a mess. There were magazines everywhere, and the wall was plastered with them.”
“With magazines?”
She answered Matt. “Yeah. I mean, she cut them out, but it was a brief glance. The door shut right away, but it reminded me of my high school locker when I was a freshman. I had a crush on Justin Bieber that wasn’t healthy. Now it’s more BTS. I’ve progressed.”
Matt groaned, his head dropping to his hand. He rubbed at his forehead. “I didn’t need to know that. Neither of us needed to know that.”
“Whatever.” Hoda’s word and tone didn’t match. She sat back, her shoulders loosening. She looked refreshed, relieved. She reached for her mojito and finished it, circling her straw around it. “This was good. I want another one.”
Gah.
That was it. Everything was off her chest, and she was now feeling good about it.
I frowned. She still had one more thing to do for us. “Who does Camille like?”
“Besides Quinn?” Her shoulders grew tight again, just not as much as before. She darted a look at Matt. “I mean, your stepmother. I know she likes her, because that’s the only call she takes. She’ll gab for hours on the phone with her, but that’s in her room. I’ve tried eavesdropping to hear what they say, but she’s got her voice muffled inside there. It’s like she has on a fan or something. The room’s not soundproof, because I can still hear her in there.”
“They talk for hours?” Matt asked, sounding in pain. “I don’t even want to imagine what that bitch is saying to her.”
Hoda was nodding. “She is a bitch, but make no mistake, Camille is smart, and cunning, and she’s got the right amount of stalker tendencies to make her dangerous.”
Matt’s lips thinned.
I was pretty sure that’s not who he meant.
“Yeah.” He grunted. He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and looked up.
The waitress appeared out of nowhere, and I didn’t want to wonder if she was just watching for him to ask for another or if she’d been going past us. Knowing my brother, knowing how he was with girls, it was probably the first choice.
The server took the glass from him and asked, all sugary sweet and in a sultry tone, “Want another?”
Matt’s grin was slow back, slow and sly. “Make it a double, please?”
“Sure thing.”
As soon as she was gone, he turned to Hoda. “Who does Camille have a thing for? We need to get her out of that room for a long period of time.”
Hoda’s mouth pressed tight together, and she visibly swallowed.
I inclined my head. “Who is it, Hoda?”
She squeaked, motioning to Matt. “It’s still him. I mean, she doesn’t come out and say it, but I know she’s still got a thing for him.” Her eyes went sideways for a beat before she refocused onus. Sitting up straight, as if coming to a decision, she continued. “Quinn only calls her Friday nights, and on Monday or Tuesday. So she wouldn’t call her tonight. I could call Camille, tell her that I went out with a friend and we saw Matt here.” She looked uncertain, her head almost lowering, the more she offered.
Matt was thoughtful, his head cocking to the side. “It’d have to be somewhere that Kash or my father don’t own. If I’m in a Kash bar, she won’t come in.” He tipped his chin to her. “What friend would you be with?”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Oh! I could call Liam. I could just say I want to talk some more about moving in together, iron out more details. He’d come. He’s always down for a beer.”
“And what? Bailey breaks in by herself? I don’t like it.”
Hoda’s eyes were wide, skirting between us. “I don’t know what else would work. It has to be you, and you have to be alone. If you’re with someone else, she won’t come.”
