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Her heart melted a little more.
Simon joined them, also still in his wet clothes. “The dude is gone. I say we call the police.”
“They’ll never find him.” Chuck/Coop shook his head. “Unlike Dotty, he won’t wear that coat in the summer heat. Maybe the valet saw him get into a car. And maybe he’s driving something that’ll be easy to find.” He glanced toward the driveway.
“My phone, Vi.” Grandma Dotty came out the front door with Kelcie. They both wore black leggings and black tank tops. “My phone’s in the coat pocket along with my ring and that twenty.”
Simon shook his head. “If we call your phone, they’ll just shut it off and throw it away.”
My phone…
“No,” Violet said, understanding dawning. She scrambled to take her cell phone out of her little purse. “We have theFind My Friendsapp.” The family used it sometimes to locate Grandma Dotty if she wandered off. She toggled to the app and selected her grandmother’s phone as the location.
Five heads bent over her phone as the app zoomed in on a map.
“It’s a house,” Chuck/Coop said.
“It’s not just any house.” Kelcie grinned. “That’s where the after party is being held, I bet.”
“I’ll order an Uber.” Violet noted the address.
“Don’t.” Chuck/Coop placed a hand over her phone. He waved to the valet with his other hand. “We’ve got my car.”
“We’re not going anywhere with you.” It pained Violet to say, but it was the smart decision to make. She put her arms around her grandmother’s shoulders and started down the front steps.
“My car will be here quicker than any car you order on an app,” Chuck/Coop pointed out. “And given how hard those models fought for the coat, you’ll need some muscle.”
Against Vi’s better judgment, she agreed.
*
“I’m the first person to talk bad about Coop,” Simon said from the front seat of the Lincoln Town car as he drove to the next party.
Coop considered stopping and dragging his childhood friend out of the vehicle.
“Go right ahead.” Vivi sat in the back sandwiched between Dotty and Kelcie, both of whom were snoozing beneath blankets Coop had produced from the trunk. Her phone sat in Coop’s cupholder with the map calling out directions in a man’s British accent.
“I’m the first person to talk bad about Coop because…” Simon glanced at Coop, who gripped the steering wheel tighter, bracing himself for the worst. “…I am him.”
“What a crock.” Coop very nearly pulled over and slugged him.
“Whichhimare you referring to?” Vivi asked in a chilly voice. “Chuck? Coop? Or Charles Cooper Pearson?”
“The Third,” Simon added, still being annoying. “I’m Radcliff Simon Marchand the Fourth.” Simon half-turned in his seat, staring back at Vivi in a way that had jealousy rearing its head once more in Coop.
He’d never really experienced a green-eyed monster before, at least not when it came to a woman.
Green-eyed monster… Another Shakespeare term.
And since Vivi wasn’t talking to Coop, what was the point of using Shakespearean terms?
“Growing up, I went to all the same exclusive, private schools that Coop did. We competed for everything, from sports to girls. My name alone got me entrance and credit at stores, country clubs, and car dealerships. My great-grandfather has an engineering wing dedicated to him at the university I attended in Houston. My father is a top donor there. It didn’t matter that my grades were sub-par. They were happy to have another generation of Marchands on campus.” He nudged Coop’s shoulder. “Sound familiar.”
Too much so. Coop nodded.
“In four hundred feet, turn right onArrr-cherStreet.” The British man stumbled over what to Coop was a simple street name.
He slowed for the right turn on Archer.
