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Alana: Love you, too. See you soon
Smiling, I lean over to grab my purse from the passenger side of my SUV. The sound of another vehicle pulling into the parking spot next to me grabs my attention. I glance out the window and see a police cruiser. My eyes meet the police officer behind the wheel.
Tonya Thompson. And her bright red pixie cut.
Ugh.
I barely keep from gagging. She’s Mayor Thompson’s daughter. She was assigned as Davis’s supervisor on the police force a few months ago—totally the result of nepotism, by the way—and since day one, she’s always been on my man’s case, snooping around on him, asking questions about him. She won’t give him a break.
Davis is convinced that she’s trying to get him fired. I countered with a joke that she’s probably secretly in love with him. In all seriousness, neither of us have a clue what her deal is. But who knows? People are weird these days.
Another car parks beside Tonya’s cruiser, and speak of the devil. It’s Mayor Thompson himself in the flesh sitting behind the wheel.
Double ugh.
I never liked that guy. Always got a weird vibe from him. I can’t stand his face. Thick blonde mustache. Pin-striped suit. Fucking top hat.
Monopoly man meets Paw Patrol villain. That’s what Mayor Thompson reminds me of.
I hustle out of my car, giving them both the requisite polite chin tip before hightailing it inside the convenience store. I don’t want to have to speak to either one of them unless absolutely necessary.
Especially the mayor. His approval around town is in the ditch, and with election season around the corner, he’s been extra smarmy lately. I’m in no mood to get cornered into listening to his tired political pitch today. I’m just trying to get my ice cream and get out of here.
I really hope I convinced Davis to run for mayor. It’s all we’ve been talking about these days. He’s still on the fence about it. I know he thinks he’s too young and too inexperienced, but he genuinely cares about Honey Hill. I one hundred percent believe he’s up to the task. Many people around town have expressed their support for him, too. We can do this. He just needs to believe in himself as much as I believe in him.
When I walk into the store, I say ‘hi’ to the clerk but she doesn’t bother to look up from her tablet. Oh well.
I don’t notice any shoppers in the store as I head to the back where the ice cream is supposed to be. I stand there a few seconds, scanning the shelves of the freezer, looking for my favorite flavor.
Sudden screaming from the front of the store makes me jump. “Thief! Thief! Thief!” the clerk is yelling all of a sudden.
What the hell? Is she talking about me?
I look around and my eyes move in the direction the clerk is pointing to. I see a woman frozen in the middle of an aisle across the store, red-handed, where she’s in the middle of stuffing a pack of diapers into her backpack.
And my heart drops.
Fuck. That’s…Stacey.
“Thief! Police! Police, help!” Arms flailing, the frantic clerk runs out the door in the direction of the police cruiser. “Help! Thief!”
I watch my 17-year-old sister as her eyes dart out the window to where the clerk is giving a frantic account to the police officer. Then Stacey’s gaze bounces from one corner of the store to the next, searching for an escape route.
Forgetting the ice cream, I bolt in the direction of my little sister. “Stacey! What the hell?!”
“Alana!” A sliver of relief slides over her expression. She drops her backpack in the middle of the aisle and now she’s running in my direction.
“Stacey! What the hell are you doing?!” I shout, my blood spiked with adrenaline.
She grabs my upper arms. “Alana! You have to get me out of here!”
“What?!” Me?! What the fuck does she expect me to do?!
I glance out the window. Tonya is jogging across the parking lot in our direction, her expression stern and focused.
Tears pour down Stacey’s face. “Oh fuck…Alana, what are we gonna do?”
“We?!” How did this become a ‘we’ problem?
