28. Present Day
Present Day
What am I doing? What am I doing? What. Am. I. Doing?
Lindsey couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t just the leather ties containing her breasts being cinched too tight because Helen was a sadist and kept pulling them tighter as if she thought she could force the front of the shirt closed with brute strength.
What am I doing?
It was Helen’s idea for Lindsey to dress to kill to make Jase pay for his lies and…everything else…but even Helen was shocked by Billy’s black leather getup Lindsey wore tonight.
She hadn’t stuffed herself into this garb since Lake Havasu City when she wanted to get Jase’s attention.
It worked then. It would work now. To what end?
Lindsey didn’t know. Last time she’d wanted him to finally realize he wanted her, that she wasn’t just his friend or Graham’s ex.
That she was a woman and as good as anyone for a proper fling.
Except it wasn’t a fling, was it?
“I can’t do this.”
From the back seat of Graham’s car—what on earth was she doing there?—Lindsey grabbed the door handle, preparing to make a run for it in the ridiculous heels that matched the ridiculous outfit she couldn’t believe she was wearing in public again.
Helen turned around and grabbed her leg. “Stop worrying. You’ve got this.”
“I don’t. I’m serious. I really don’t.”
“Look at me,” Helen commanded, and Lindsey looked at her in the dark car. “All you have to do is go in there, stare him down, and walk back out.”
“How do you know he’ll be here?”
“We passed his bike on the way in,” Graham said, speaking for the first time since muttering his distaste about their scheme before they left the house. He seemed to make a point of not looking at Lindsey tonight. “He’s already here.”
“Let’s go,” Helen urged. Outside the car, Def Leppard vibrated the Haunt’s rusted metal walls. Helen linked her arm with Lindsey’s.
“Why is it so busy?” Lindsey asked.
“Karaoke night,” Graham said. “They have karaoke every Saturday.”
“Let it go.” Helen swatted at Lindsey’s hands trying to loosen the ties cutting off her air supply. “You look hot. Doesn’t she? Graham, tell her she looks hot.”
He frowned. “This feels like a trap.”
Helen nudged him in the ribs.
“She looks hot,” he deadpanned.
“Okay. Okay, let’s go,” Lindsey said. And they went.