Chapter 4
Josephine
“Hey, girl!” Hunter’s rushing out the garage door before I even put Honey in park.
I checked the address twice before pulling into the driveway. Her house is huge. It’s one of those regal Southern homes with white colonial columns, a circle driveway, and two sets of stairs leading up to the front door.
Though I thought it was a coincidence that neither of us had class on Fridays, it turns out that LCU only offers classes four days a week. A perk I didn’t even know about.
At lunch on Tuesday, Hunter invited me to spend today with her so we can get ready for the party together.
According to her, the party Locke invited me to at his place, which, as it turns out, is a lakeside mansion owned by Decker Crusade, is the place to be. She gave me tons of other scoop, too—on Locke and Decker, and on their roommates Kylian and Kendrick.
Pretty sure I learned more during Hunter’s course on Lake Chapel 101 than I did in all of my classes this week combined.
“I’m so glad we’re doing this!” She wraps her arms around me.
At her embrace, I make a concerted effort to not go stiff. I don’t not like hugs. I’m just not used to the frequency and intensity in which they’re doled out in the south.
“Slight change of plans for today,” she says, spinning back toward the house.
We weave through a garage with six bays filled with cars, a few motorcycles, and even a boat.
“I thought we’d have the house to ourselves, but my stepbrother and his teammates showed up an hour ago.” She glances back at me over her shoulder and rolls her eyes.
“Let me grab a few things from my room, then we can head out. I made appointments for us at the med spa. My treat!”
I open my mouth to argue but close it again the second we step inside.
The sheer amount of noise in the house means there’s no way she’d hear me anyway.
We’ve walked into chaos. No less than ten guys are hanging around the kitchen.
A few lean against the countertops, stuffing their faces, while the others kick a soccer ball across the hardwood floor.
No sooner does Hunter come to a stop, plant her hands on her hips, and huff, than the soccer ball is airborne and heading right toward us.
The ball whizzes by me, and I squeak in surprise, but Hunter catches it and pulls it into her chest. Wow. She’s got great reflexes.
“Greedy! Get your goons out of the kitchen before they break something!”
Her cheeks are pink with anger as she holds on tight to their toy. When her scowl deepens, I follow her gaze and catch sight of one of the most gorgeous specimens of man I’ve ever seen sauntering into the room.
Good grief. Do they grow them differently here? Is it the lake water?
The guy smiles, biting the side of his lip as he regards Hunter, then he turns toward me. “Hey, sis. Who’s your friend?”
Tension crackles around them, but she doesn’t respond.
The room has gone quiet. The rowdy boys from moments ago are all hushed whispers as they watch Greedy and Hunter square off.
“I’m Joey,” I offer, extending a hand. “I just started at Lake Chapel U with Hunter.”
Greedy is already leaning forward like he’s about to accept my hand, but as the last of my words leave my mouth, he pulls back suddenly, as if he’s been burned. His gaze shifts from me to Hunter, his expression turning from one of curiosity to pure ire.
“The fuck? You met at LCU? Seriously?”
“Come on,” Hunter urges, grabbing me by the hand without acknowledging her stepbrother’s outrage. She tosses him the ball and hightails it out of the kitchen.
“You can’t hide from me forever, Temi,” he calls after us.
The kitchen is so quiet now I swear I can hear each guy breathing as we hurry past them.
Halfway to the second floor, Hunter finally slows, then lets out the biggest sigh.
From there, it’s like she’s used up all her energy reserves.
Her steps drag at a glacial pace as we climb the last dozen stairs or so.
Her shoulders are slumped, and I swear I hear a tiny sniffle.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I follow behind her silently.
What just happened?
This isn’t the girl I met on Monday or had lunch with on Tuesday. She’s totally deflated. If possible, she slows even further when we get to a room at the end of the hall. She opens the door, revealing a gorgeous bedroom decorated in sage greens and soft grays.
Plopping on the bed, she huffs out another sigh.
I perch on the end of the mattress, giving her some space, but I turn to her so she knows I’m here for her. “You okay?”
Though I don’t understand it, something significant happened in the kitchen. I don’t want to meddle, yet I feel compelled to ask. Friends talk about things like this, right? I’m rusty with the girl talk.
When Hunter doesn’t respond, I backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t trying to pry.”
“It’s nothing,” she says as she takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “At least, it shouldn’t be. I’m almost certain Greedy and his dad assumed I was enrolling at South Chapel University when I moved back this year. Surprise.”
My stomach flip-flops. Shit. I’m the one who gave her away. “Oh god. Hunter… I’m so sorry I said anything—”
“Joey. It’s fine. I didn’t set out to keep it a secret. Although it was fun guessing when they would actually figure it out.” Finally, a small smile graces her lips.
But it’s gone just as quickly as she rolls over on the bed and props her head on her hand.
“My parents divorced during my junior year of high school. It was… god, it was awful. Messy. Hateful. All either of them cared about was getting the last word and a bigger piece of the pie. Not even two weeks after the divorce was finalized, we moved in here. My mom and Dr. Ferguson were married two months later.”
Holy. Shit. I school my expression, trying to hold back a reaction and reserve judgment.
“Things were okay at first. I like Doc, and my mom seemed happy. But then…” She trails off and stares at something over my shoulder.
No one would ever call me an open book. Thus, I usually have no problem letting people keep information like this to themselves. But despite my best efforts, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Then?”
“I don’t really know what happened. One morning, I woke up to a note on the kitchen table from my mom. She said she’d be in Europe for two weeks. I haven’t seen her since.”
Confusion clouds my thoughts as I watch her, waiting for clarification. “Your mom just left you? When did this happen?” I’m no stranger to the absentee parent situation. But I was under the assumption that things like this happened to girls like me, not Hunter.
She traces the stitching of her duvet and sighs. “Four years ago.”
“Hunter,” I gasp, my heart plummeting for her. “I’m so sorry. That’s the shittiest shit I’ve ever heard.”
So much for reserving judgment.
I backtrack again, toeing the line of indignant outrage and supportive friend. I hope. “Is she okay? Have you seen her?”
“She’s fine,” Hunter scoffs. “She FaceTimes on holidays. And she’s always posting on social media.
I spent the first two years after high school trying to track her down and meet up in Europe.
I’m almost embarrassed to admit that it took me that long to realize she was avoiding me just as much as she was avoiding her own life. ”
“That really sucks,” I lament.
She sits up, then turns to face me. “It really does.”
“And Greedy?”
From their interaction downstairs, it’s obvious there’s more to his story.
Hunter presses her lips together, and for a moment, she looks like she’s fighting back tears. With a scrunch of her nose, the expression passes. Then she meets my gaze and subtly shakes her head.
I get it. We’ve only known each other for a week. So rather than harp on the issue, I share something about myself. This is what friends do, right? It’s okay if she doesn’t want to spill her heart out to me. I still don’t want her to feel alone.
“My mom was absent for a lot of my childhood, too,” I admit. “Although she wasn’t in Europe. She could be found trading out food stamps for booze and closing down the local bar.”
“I’m sorry,” she offers simply.
“Me, too.”
There’s a sad neutrality that comes with having to raise oneself. Knowing we have this in common makes me feel more connected to Hunter. She may lead a charmed life, but she’s proof that not everything gilded is golden.
“Okay, enough sad girl mama drama,” she declares, rising to her feet. “There’s a party tonight, and I booked facials for us this afternoon. You in?”
I grimace and consider lying, but Hunter has been so honest with me. She deserves the same in return.
“I doubt I can afford a facial right now, but I’ll definitely tag along.”
“Joey,” she admonishes. “I already told you. It’s my treat!”
Ugh. I don’t want her to think I’m using her. And I don’t want to make a habit of letting her pay my way. But she’s already booked appointments for us, and it’s obvious that what she really wants is to get out of this house.
“Okay. But just this once,” I tell her. “And you have to let me do your makeup for the party to repay you.”
“Perf. I was already planning to ask you to since yours is always flawless.”
Hunter parks along the street in a quaint little downtown area, then breezes into the med spa like she owns the place.
The waiting room is pearly white, save for the vibrant green grass wall behind the front desk.
A hot pink neon sign reads Lake Chapel Radiance, and new-age music plays softly in the waiting room.
“Checking in?” a receptionist asks.
Hunter handles the details while I look around. Near the edge of the reception desk is a brochure and price list, but I can’t bring myself to investigate how much a place like this charges.
But next to the brochure stand is something I’m much more interested in looking into. It’s a sign that reads Help Wanted.
I not-so-patiently wait for Hunter to finish chatting, then catch the receptionist’s eye.
“Are you hiring?” I ask, pointing to the sign.
She gives me an appraising once-over. “We are. Have you ever worked in the beauty industry?” she asks with a saccharine smile.
Hunter steps back up to the desk, shoulder to shoulder with me, and takes it upon herself to answer. “Joey has her cosmetology license and years of salon experience.”
Salon experience is a bit of a stretch, given my makeshift setup at the hospice facility.
“I’m licensed in the state of Ohio,” I clarify. “I just moved to the area.”
“Oh.” The receptionist’s censure is quickly replaced with mild interest. “We’re hiring an assistant position, so you might be overqualified. It’s mostly prepping and cleaning treatment rooms, taking out the trash—”
“I’m interested,” I interject.
Paying for my own gas is a must. And I’d like to earn enough to occasionally go out to lunch with Hunter. I want the freedom I’m used to when it comes to supporting myself.
Sam’s done so much for me already. But I can’t accept much more than what he’s given me thus far. I’ll feel more like myself if I can earn my own money. Plus, I’m only taking two in-person classes this semester, and this little downtown shopping area is halfway between the junkyard and campus.
“I’ll get you the new client paperwork, along with an application. Hang tight.”
Hunter links her arm with mine as the receptionist leaves the waiting room. “You’re a little go-getter, aren’t you?” she teases.
I smile to myself and think of Alice. I’m not usually a go-getter. But I did make a promise. And I fully intend to see it through.