Chapter 39 Sloane #2
"So we make him not know," Maggie says.
"What if we make him think he's going viral?" Darla suggests.
Ruby writes under JAMES: INFLUENCER ARC—Ring light in his chair, "ASK ME ANYTHING" sign, camera (not actually live), comment cards with ridiculous questions, self-help books, sponsor script.
"He's going to read the sponsor script," Ruby says.
Maggie's gaze goes dreamy. "With sincerity."
Darla smiles. "He's going to say 'What's up, y'all' and mean it."
I press my palm to my mouth, laughter leaking anyway.
Ruby adds pre-written "fan mail" to "Mr. James (Wise Man)" on the board.
"Kyle and Rider," Candace says.
"Kyle is too easy," Maggie says. "He'll help them."
Candace nods. "Traitor waiting to happen."
"So we recruit him." Ruby's eyes widen. "Clipboard. Headset. Lanyard. 'Prank War Compliance Officer.'"
Candace's mouth twitches. "He will take it seriously."
"He will die trying," Maggie says fondly.
Under RIDER, Ruby hesitates.
"What if we make Rider plan something?" Darla says. "Something ridiculous."
"A themed ride," Maggie says.
Ruby's face lights up. "We give him a binder. Tabs. Corporate energy."
"He's going to throw the binder at you," Candace says.
Ruby shrugs. "It's a weapon either way. Win-win."
She writes under RIDER: THEMED RIDE COORDINATOR—"SYNCHRONIZED RIDE ROUTE," color-coded stops, mandatory team-building icebreaker at first gas station.
Frankie laughs despite herself. "You're going to get us killed."
"We're going to humble them."
Candace's gaze travels the whiteboard. "Timing matters. Stagger them. Give them time to hope, and take it away."
Maggie nods. "Keep them disoriented so they can't prepare."
Ruby snaps the marker cap. "Now we assign roles."
The front door downstairs creaks. A soft thud follows, as though a hand landed on the banister. Frankie stills, bottle halfway to her mouth. Her gaze flicks to the hallway.
"Did you invite someone?" Maggie asks lightly, but her hand finds the coffee table edge.
Ruby's grin fades into alertness. Candace's eyes lock on the doorway.
"No," Frankie says. Another creak. Closer. Her phone buzzes. She glances down, expression tightening before she smooths it away. "Arden's stopping by."
Ruby's grin goes wicked. "To join the war?"
"To check on the stray," Frankie says flatly.
Darla pauses mid-bite. "A dog?"
Frankie's shoulders lift. "Basically."
Candace sharpens. Maggie stills. I don't say anything. Frankie's tone makes it clear this is all she'll say.
Ruby recovers. "Fine. Arden can handle strays. We are handling shenanigans."
Frankie gives her a look that's half gratitude, half warning. "Correct."
The doorbell buzzes. Frankie pushes off the wall and crosses to the door. Arden is there, framed by hall light, belonging more to shadows than rooms. He steps inside, gaze sweeping faces, settling on Frankie.
"Hey," she murmurs, and it's the first time tonight her tone sounds as though it belongs to work.
Arden murmurs something I don't catch. His eyes flick toward the back of the house. Frankie nods once. He walks away without another word. The hallway door closes behind him with a soft click that feels as though a line has been drawn.
Frankie watches it shut, turns back to us. Her face is smooth. Too smooth.
Ruby makes a face. "Well. That was mysterious."
"Maybe the stray is a raccoon," Darla says, grabbing pretzels.
Candace narrows her eyes. "Frankie doesn't hide raccoons."
Ruby snorts. "Maybe she should. It would add to her brand."
Frankie drops back onto her spot against the wall, sparkling water in hand, as though nothing happened. But her weight shifts toward the hallway every few seconds. It's subtle. I only catch it because I'm watching.
Ruby drags us back. Flyers, announcements, weaponized balloons. But my attention keeps snagging on the quiet beyond the hall.
I stand to refill my water, crossing toward the kitchen, when the sound comes.
Low. Muffled. It rises from somewhere beneath us.
Not pipes or settling floorboards. Deeper.
A guttural noise that scrapes against my ears, raw as nails dragged across the inside of a drum.
Deeper than a growl. Almost human. Close enough to both that my body goes still, glass frozen halfway to my lips.
The sound comes again, frustrated, pained, raw. Every instinct I have as a medic fires at once. Someone's hurt.
I turn toward the back stairs. "Frankie, is someone—"
She's already moving. Frankie's across the room in three strides, hand catching my elbow in a firm grip. Her fingers press just hard enough to deliver the message without words.
"It's handled."
"But I heard—"
"I know." Her eyes are steady, unreadable, locked on mine with an intensity that makes the room shrink. "It's handled."
The room has gone quiet. Ruby is mid-sentence, mouth open. Candace's gaze cuts between us, sharp and assessing. Darla's hand is stilled on her stomach. Maggie's brownie forgotten.
I search Frankie's face. "If someone's hurt, I can—"
"They're not hurt." Her voice closes off. "They're adjusting."
"Adjusting to what?"
Her jaw works. For a second, I think she might answer. Arden appears in the doorway silently, as though he surfaced from the dark rather than walked through it. His eyes meet Frankie's. A look passes between them that doesn't need language.
Frankie crosses to him. He says something low enough that I only catch the shape of it. She nods sharply once and presses something into his hand. A bottle, maybe. Or a jar. I can't tell from here.
Arden turns back down the hallway without another word. His footsteps fade to nothing.
I'm staring at the empty doorway, the dark corridor where the sound came from. "Frankie—"
"It's not your problem." Her hand squeezes my elbow once before releasing. Her voice softens. Barely. Just enough. "When it's time for you to know, you'll know."
"That's not reassuring."
Her mouth curves. Small, tired, almost apologetic. "It's not meant to be." She turns back to the group, shoulders squaring as though she's physically shaking off the tension. "Where were we?"
Ruby points her phone at Frankie. "You're hiding something."
"I'm always hiding something." She takes a pointed sip of water.
"This feels bigger," Ruby insists.
Frankie sets the bottle down. "Let it feel."
Candace's eyes stay on Frankie another beat, reading, calculating. She shifts, making space for the conversation to move past this.
Maggie follows, reaching for a brownie. "So. Timing."
Darla picks up the thread. "Stagger the pranks. Don't give them time to regroup."
Ruby hesitates, still watching Frankie. Exhales and turns to the whiteboard. "Fine. But I'm coming back to this."
"I'm sure you will," Frankie murmurs.
The room settles back. Plans, laughter, marker on whiteboard. But I stay standing another beat, glass clutched in my hand. Listening. The sound doesn't come again.
But I can't shake the memory of it. Low, frustrated, raw. Can't shake the way Arden moved, as though he was responding to something only he and Frankie understood. Something that needed him down there. Alone.
I sit back down, but my attention keeps drifting to that closed door. To the silence pressing up from below.
Frankie laughs at something Ruby says. Her timing's perfect. Her eyes aren't in it. When she reaches for her water, her hand is shaking.