Page 22 of Madness & Mayhem


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“You mean grumpy,” Brielle said with a shrug. “I’ll go find him.” She left the sanctuary of the tent and headed off in the direction of the two-story house.

Angie and Horace might’ve come from a meager background, but it was clear they’d built something beautiful together. A life. A family. Now they were celebrating a monumental anniversary.

For some reason I was about to become incredibly weepy, even though I wasn’t at all sentimental.

“You look like you need a drink,” Virgil said.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure?” he asked.

I nodded.

“All right, then.” He looked at Roman. “We better find Mom and Dad. They’ll want to do speeches soon.”

“I need a bourbon if I have to speak publicly.”

Virgil slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

“Bye, Brooklyn,” Roman said with a wave.

The two brothers wandered off toward the bar, which was on the other side of the tent.

“What did I miss?” Jazz asked, sidling up next to me.

I looked at her. She was straightening the collar of her white button-down, and then she brushed a hand over her dark hair. We’d both dressed like cater waiters even though we weren’t.

“I just met three of the four Jackson siblings.”

“Oh, wait until you meet Homer.”

“Homer? How did you—”

Jazz’s face suddenly flushed with color, and she cleared her throat. “So, you met Brielle?”

“Yeah.” I cocked my head to the side and stared at her. “You look—are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” She pasted a smile on her face. “Are people obsessing over the cake?”

“They are. One of Angie’s friends has even asked if I do baby showers. Her daughter is pregnant.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes, of course.” I shook my head. “I’d be a real idiot to turn down work that is landing in my lap, right?”

“Right. We’re going to have to figure out a better way to transport cakes than in your rinky-dink car,” she said.

“No wonder you and Brielle are tight.”

“We both say whatever’s on our minds?”

“Yup.”

My smile slipped as Jazz’s spine snapped straight. Her gaze locked on something past me. I turned and saw a tall man with blond hair. He towered over everyone, and he didn’t blend in at all. A fierce scowl painted his face, even as he stopped at Angie’s side. She smiled up at him and hugged him. He looked like he merely tolerated her touch.

“Who’s that?” I asked in confusion.

“That’s Homer,” Jazz said slowly.

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