27. Tee
Tee
“ W hat are you staring at?” the kid who was shoved into the back seat a few minutes ago snaps, glowering at me when I study him with interest.
The Korhonens have been Pigeon Creek’s version of the Real Housewives since forever, but until Clyde, they were always magnanimous.
We needed a fire truck? They’d provide one.
A new library? The Korhonens were the first to donate.
So, in the nineties, when Our Lady of Sorrows started permitting their bratty students to visit the town on the weekends once they hit sophomore year, the locals were quick to notice the difference between regular rich folk and Korhonens.
A long-standing grudge commenced shortly after.
Honestly, some of them make Clyde seem nice.
(And he’s a murderer.)
“Not staring—studying. Just wondering what heinous crimes you committed.”
“Don’t talk to him, please, Tee,” Cody grumbles, drawing my attention.
Cody’s wearing the day’s many stresses on his face—he looks like he could take a fifteen-hour nap and still come out exhausted.
Forcing myself to be indifferent, I nod and allow the rest of the journey to take place in silence.
Once we arrive at the Seven Cs, Cody’s out of the driver’s seat before I can stop him—the door’s held open for me and he catches my eye before he takes off for town again.
(Goddamn chivalrous jackass.)
I do not watch them go.
I don’t.
“A police escort? What have you been up to?”
Twisting around, I find Zee sitting on the small veranda out front.
The main entry is mostly taken up by two grand pieces of topiary, but there’s a tiny porch swing to the side—that’s where my BFF’s spying on me from.
Walking up the steps, I haul out the extra-large pack of trail mix from my tote and toss it at her once I’m close enough for it to smack her on the chest.
She opens the main packet and retrieves a smaller bag. “Thanks, babe.”
“I shouldn’t have eaten your stash.”
“Not like you to binge on healthy stuff,” she points out.
I shrug—she’s not wrong. But I still managed to consume four-thousand calories, so it isn’t exactly a win for my hips.
“Why are you sitting outside?” I inquire, wanting to change the subject.
“Pretty day.”
“Since when do you sit outside?” For a rancher’s daughter, you’d think she’d be more adept with the great blue yonder. Instead, she hates bugs more than I do.
“I’m a natural camper.”
“Camping has nothing to do with anything,” I say wryly as I plunk my ass on the seat beside her, falling into her rhythm as she starts up the swinging motion.
“Parker called and I decided to take it out here.”
“I need to talk to Parker.”
“She said you haven’t spoken in a while.”
“Been busy. She okay?”
“Yup. Same as always. What’s with the police escort?”
The question has me delving into the bag of trail mix. Snagging three packets, I fill her in on the morning’s happenings. Everything from Elena’s episode to Cody’s belief that Clyde killed his elder brother and onwards to the brat who was arrested and with whom I shared a cop car.
Half-expecting more of an interrogation, Zee takes me aback by inquiring, “You haven’t told Parker about Cody, have you?”
I tip my head back to let the crushed pieces at the bottom of the packet tumble into my mouth.
“Tee.”
“What?” Ignoring her, I tear open a second packet.
“Why haven’t you told Parker any of this?” When I don’t answer, she snatches the trail mix out of my hand. “I’m holding this hostage until you answer.”
I harrumph. “I don’t need the calories.”
“Sure you do. Your phat ass is less phat and more skinny than before.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is. You’re supposed to be juicy.”
Her teasing has me grinning at her. “It’s looking juicier than it did.”
“Good to know.” She chivvies, “Come on. You know you can tell me anything.”
I hold out my hand for the packet. Though she huffs, she does pass it to me, so I mumble, “I’m embarrassed.”
“We know that Sweet Lips—” Parker’s boyfriend. “—gave her a yeast infection when he stuck a sucker in her cooch, Tee. I’m not sure there’s anything more embarrassing than that!”
“I told her he was a dumbass. Who puts sugar near a vagina?”
“A guy called Sweet Lips, apparently. My point is, she shared that with us…” When I crunch a pecan, she sighs and, thankfully, leaves it alone. “How was it, being with Cody again? Has he apologized?”
“He apologized when he told me the truth.”
“Ahh. You’re still wallowing?”
I sniff.
“You know Parker would tell you to pull your head out of your ass and chase happiness. That’s why you haven’t told her, isn’t it?”
I grace her with a second sniff.
“You told me because you knew I would let you wallow, didn’t you?”
Third sniff.
She tuts. “I won’t let you wallow forever. I can’t take any more of that mournful violin coming out of the den at night. It’s like living in a funeral parlor.”
“It’s a violino piccolo,” I correct. “And you can’t even hear it from your bedroom so don’t lie.”
“Sure I can. It comes through the vents. You try fucking your husband to a funeral march?—”
“Don’t be so dramatic!” My eyes widen when I realize what I just said. Both of us stare at one another and crack with laughter while I hoot, “I can’t believe I said that.”
“Yeah, Ms. Drama Queen.” Though she’s still cackling, Zee reasons, “You have to decide whether you’ll forgive him or not eventually, babe.”
The plastic wrapper crinkles in my hand as I toy with it. “I know.”
“Will you?”
I want to say no, but I can’t. “Probably.”
She snorts. “You don’t have to.”
“Sure I do. He’s Butch.”
“But Butch isn’t who you thought he was.”
“That’s the thing... he is.” I pause to gather my thoughts but it’s tough. This is stuff I’ve never shared with anyone. Some of it, sure. But not in depth. “W-We never went into details, Zee. Not really. Everything was obliquely referenced. You were Z to him. He thought you were called Zoe, but he knows how much I love you from those letters alone. His insight into me is richer because of the letters.”
“And yours into him.”
“Yes, but I guess that’s half the struggle. The man I knew and the man I grew up around, they don’t slot together… but the whisper of both is loud.” My anxiety surges at the notion, but it doubles down when I realize I didn’t tell her one thing about this morning. “During Elena’s episode at the store, she mentioned that Clyde had hit Cody hard enough to potentially shatter his orbital bone.”
Her eyes widen. “Colt’s under the impression that he took the brunt of the beatings.”
“He wasn’t around 24/7 though, was he?” Seeking comfort, I grab her hand and slot my fingers through hers. “Is it bad that I’d like to throttle Clyde?”
“We can tag team him. I’ll cut off his dick and you can shove it down his throat.”
“Think Rachel would be able to get us off the murder charge? ‘He deserved it, Your Honor.’”
“Doubtful considering she isn’t a member of the Saskatchewan Bar.”
“Pity.” I take a breath. “Can you imagine growing up in a house with a man who beat you, your mother, your brothers, killed your uncle?—”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Cody seemed pretty fucking certain. He wants to follow up on it because he thinks Clyde murdered Clay.
“Could be wishful thinking, I suppose. Wanting to pin every last evil on the bastard, but I dunno. He seemed more resigned than anything else.”
Zee’s gaze drifts to the closest corral, where Colt’s working with one of the horses. (Suddenly, her choice of location makes sense.) “I saw Clay’s last will and testament. The difference between the inheritances is substantial.”
“How many zeroes did he need in his bank account?”
“Apparently a thousand million. Hundreds of millions weren’t enough.”
My only response is a whistle.
“Maybe...” Zee hesitates.
“What?”
“Cody might think Clyde will get off the hit and run causing death charge. Maybe Cody wants to lock him down with other crimes so he can’t ever get out.
“It must be like having the monster under your bed living with you at all times. Having direct control over your life. I can’t imagine any of them want him free.”
“No.” I shiver. “God, we were lucky, weren’t we?”
Zee might have lost her parents when she was young, but they loved her and each other. Despite the trauma of her youth, we both know that, in comparison to the Korhonen boys, we had it easy.
“Yeah,” she whispers, her fingers tangling even tighter with mine. “We were.”