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McKenna turns to face me; her gaze studies me like I’m a cause for worry. “Why do you ask?”
“Because,” I sigh, “I’m worried about Sandee. Remember her from the club? She’s a dancer, or maybe shewasa dancer.” I shake my head at the thought of something terrible happening to Sandee.
Sure, she’s a stripper, but she’s so nice and sweet, the kind of girl that makes you wonder how in the hell she ended up taking her clothes off for cash.
“Club Dynasty? Yeah, I remember her. She’s a hottie with that innocent schoolgirl schtick that’s a little too believable.”
I laugh. “That’s what I told her, but yeah, that’s my girl.”
“Why are you so worried? Isn’t it normal for the girls to shoot off for weeks with the latest big spender?”
“Yeah, but Sandee is my friend. She never goes away for any long periods of time without telling me. I’m scared because Nogales had his eye on her for a while, and I know you know about him. He’s crazy as fuck. The kind of guy who forces you to date him or die.”
McKenna’s big eyes go wide in disbelief. “And Sandee chose to date him?” She sets the board aside to listen to me.
I let out a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t say shechoseto date him so much as shechoseto continue breathing. But what if he killed her anyway?”
My eyes slam shut against the idea of Sandee being dead, but I have to know one way or the other. “Am I crazy?”
“No, you’re not crazy, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. You should tell Joaquin. I’m sure he’d help you find her.”
I nod at her attempt to cheer me up. “I’d rather find Sandee alive and well, sipping Mai Tais in one of her tiny bikinis with some rich old fart in the Caribbean or someplace equally luxurious and exotic. There’s a lot of rich fuckers in Angel Harbor.”
“Yeah, well…”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just…”
Kenna looks at me with sympathy in her eyes. “Worrying won’t change the outcome, Willow, but the only thing you can work on is your attitude. What are you willing to do to help find Sandee?”
“Anything,” I tell her and push away from a small two-top table to get back to the kitchen. “I need to get back to work, but thanks for the chat, McKenna.”
“Anytime,” she calls after me and turns her attention back to the specials board while I make my way back to the kitchen.
There’s bread to bake, cookies and cupcakes to make so Letty can decorate them. I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself, so I wash my hands and get back to work, my thoughts shooting from Joaquin to Sandee and back. I have no idea what to do about either of them, but I’ll figure it out.
Soon.Ish.
Letty and I quietly work on baked goods while rock music plays on the radio. It’s a companionable silence, and I don’t feel the need to interrupt it, so I decide to enjoy it and knead the bread like my life depends on it.
The swinging doors rush open, and I open my mouth, ready to snap on the intruder, when I spot the third person plaguing my thoughts.
“Maven!”
I rush to my friend and mentor and wrap her in the biggest hug I can manage without covering her in flour. “I’m so happy to see you,” I gush and then pull back. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you break out? Is this all over? Tell me everything!”
Maven laughs and pulls me in for another hug. “The lawyer Wilder got for me is great, and he forced the detectives to admit they don’t have anything on me, never mind a body or a reasonable suspicion that Cyrus is dead, which is a little disconcerting. But here I am!”
“What about the blood they were talking about?” My mind is racing a million miles an hour. I’m so happy to see Maven but also a little worried that this is some sort of prank.
Maven sighs, patient and smiling. “I dated Cyrus for close to a year. He spent many nights at my place, so that blood could be from any time or for any reason. He could have cut himself shaving, for crying out loud. So far, they have nothing.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say loudly and hug her again. “Does that mean this bullshit is over?”
“I wish. All it means is that Wilder managed to get me out of jail with a hefty bail. But the detectives are embarrassed and determined, which means they are still investigating.”
She rolls her eyes again, a smile on her face, but there’s pain in her eyes that she can’t hide from me. “I don’t think they’ll give up easily.”
“Of course not,” I snort. “It’s easier to pin a crime on an innocent person rather than do their fucking jobs.”
