Chapter 16. Juliet, the Model
Juliet, the Model
PRESENT DAY
Juliet was still adrift in a sea of shock by the time twenty girls arrived and filled Cybele’s beachfront home, turning it into a party.
They moved outside to a deck overlooking the rolling blue waves of the Pacific, cooled by that perfect California breeze Juliet had come to adore after the constant swelter of Mississippi.
As she watched, the girls turned on music—Scout’s, at first, until she yelled at them to change it—and stood taking tequila shots at the outdoor bar, licking salt off their fingers and sucking on ripe green limes.
They danced in groups around the pool, collapsing in laughter at themselves.
And still, all Juliet could think was: Scout had pulled a gun.
“Hey, girl.” Scout’s assistant, Isabel, clapped a hand on her shoulder, startling her out of the memory of Danny lunging. “You okay?”
Juliet blinked. “Yeah,” she lied. “Of course.”
“I heard you ended things with your skeezy agent,” said Miranda, ambling up alongside Cybele. “Congrats, big shot. You’re officially a free agent.” She and Cybele clinked their tequila shots, exchanging knowing smiles. “Here’s to Mississippi.”
“He jumped at us,” Juliet blurted. “I thought he was going to hit me.”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t over it.
The three women glanced at one another. Cybele was the first to speak.
“That happens sometimes, when it’s a guy.” She shrugged, knocked back her shot, and winced. “Jesus, is this the tequila by those CW actors? It’s rancid. I better have gotten this shit for free.”
Isabel shoved her shoulder. “Remember how we talked about empathy?” She turned to Juliet. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been scary.”
“I just…” Juliet searched for the right words. They were acting like this was normal. “I knew Danny sucked, but I never thought he could be violent.” She met Cybele’s dark eyes. The two of them were almost exactly the same height. In Juliet’s world, that was rare. “I brought him into your house.”
“Listen.” Cybele seemed to take Isabel’s note about empathy, because she softened her expression.
“Guys are used to being the strong ones. When they lose that advantage, sometimes it flips a switch and they become capable of things you wouldn’t imagine.
We shoved your guy against a wall, metaphorically speaking.
I’m not saying what he did was right—just predictable, if you’ve been around as long as we have. That’s why we come prepared.”
“Violence is the last recourse of the desperate,” Isabel said softly. “Trust me on that.”
The other woman’s attention had caught on something across the backyard, and Juliet followed her gaze.
A group of girls she recognized from the Serpent Room had gathered around Cybele’s stone fireplace, spreading a deck of tarot cards.
Scout sat in front of them. She’d changed into a neon-yellow bikini.
No room, Juliet thought with relief, for a gun.
Miranda cocked an eyebrow at Cybele. “What did you guys do that left Mississippi so spooked?”
Cybele shrugged. “It was a standard bait-and-switch. Got him over on the pretense of business, threatened to tell everyone what he’s up to, yadda yadda.”
“Oh.” Miranda laid a warm hand on Juliet’s arm. “We’ve run that play a hundred times, babes. Nothing to worry about.”
“A hundred?”
Who were these women? There was something bigger going on here than even the rumors had captured.
Juliet would admit it: She’d been frightened of Scout and Cybele after Scout pulled the gun.
But the longer she sat with what happened, the more her fear siphoned out, replaced by awe.
Scout and Cybele had been powerful in every sense of the word—soft power, yes, the kind women were allowed, wielding influence and desire, but in that moment they held hard power, too, the kind women almost never got, their boots on Danny’s neck.
“It’s one of our go-tos,” Miranda confirmed. “It’s a light lift.”
A light lift. Danny had held the chains around Juliet for years, and they’d dispatched him like it was just another pre-margarita afternoon. She wanted that confidence and control, wanted to evolve from prey to predator.
Isabel was still watching Scout as she chose her tarot cards on the other side of the deck. “What plays do you run besides the bait-and-switch?” Juliet asked, suddenly hungry to know everything, to hold all of their secrets.
Cybele actually reached out and tapped Juliet on the nose, as if she were a kitten. “You’ll find out,” she said enigmatically. “You’re sticking around, right?”
Scout flipped a card and groaned. “The Ten of Swords? You’ve got to be kidding.” On the card’s face, a man hung suspended in the air, body pierced by swords from every angle. “The persecution card.”
It was irrational—maybe she was still spooked—but Juliet’s stomach dropped. She swallowed. “Of course. If you’ll have me.”
“We should toast,” said Miranda. “To Mississippi’s freedom.”
“And let’s get a séance going,” added Cybele. “A little ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board.’ We can stick our pins into Danny’s doll, too. Cast some curses.” She glanced at Juliet and could no longer hold in her laughter. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”
Juliet didn’t need to see—she could feel how wide her eyes had grown.
“I’ll get the wine.” Isabel pointed a warning finger at Cybele. “You stop teasing her. She’s going to think we’re the bitches from The Craft.”
“Wine fridge in the back room, not the kitchen,” Cybele called.
A heavy knock sounded at the front door.
Isabel waved over her shoulder as she made her way inside. “I’ll get it!”
“I swear, Cara can never remember the door code.” Cybele rolled her eyes. “I hate to make a blond joke—”
“Scout?” Isabel’s voice pierced through the music. “You need to come here right now.”
The music stopped. Everyone turned to Scout, who shrugged and rose.
“If that’s Danny coming back—” Cybele charged after her. Juliet followed, and soon everyone was pouring through the house to the foyer, where Isabel stood holding the door, fear carving her face into a stark mask.
A cop stood outside in a navy uniform, his hand hovering over his sidearm. In front of him, a blond woman in a pale pink suit stood ramrod straight, her eyes zeroing in on Scout’s face among the girls. She looked familiar.
“The bottle service girl?” The words burst from Cybele. “What are you doing here?”
It was the bottle service girl from the Serpent Room. Seeing her in business clothes, in the presence of a cop, had thrown Juliet, but now she recognized her. She’d known something was strange about that woman.
The woman in question raised a silver-and-gold badge engraved with the shield of the Los Angeles Police Department.
“Scout Sage, I’m Detective Grey Holloway.
” Her face betrayed no emotion, the opposite of the bubbly woman who’d served them champagne.
“I need you to come with me. You’re wanted for questioning in the murder of Elizabeth Drake. ”