Chapter 4
Chapter four
Bellatrix
The banging is either coming from the people in the condo directly beside me, who happily engage at all hours of the day and night in what could only be described as bed sport, given how rough and loud they go at it, or from my front door.
I slam my pillow over my head, hoping to drown it out.
The walls are like cardboard, though, which lets Mika’s loud voice filter into my small condo. “Bish! Let me in!”
She has her own key to the front door, but seeing as she didn’t let herself in here, she must have lost it. I love Mika to death, but now I’ll probably have to get my locks changed because of her scatterbrained ways.
You know those sayings about losing your head if it weren’t attached to your body?
Yeah.
“I’m coming!” I yell. I stumble out of bed and note that it’s just past the stage of watery dark.
Given that we’re in June and creeping toward the longest day of the year, that means it’s early.
No wonder my head feels like a sack of mush that used to be pumpkins but the pumpkins fell off a wagon and got stomped on by eight different dinosaurs.
Not sure what time period we’re supposed to be in here.
After getting home last night and reviving my phone, I changed into one of my granny nighties with frills and red hearts that have faded to pink, washed my face, and crashed, though I did send Mika a text right as I was falling asleep.
I open the door to find her wearing a worried expression, which is still ten out of ten gorgeous on her. She’s rocking unnaturally red hair, has slayed her makeup, and is sporting a corset top with long lace sleeves and a black velvet skirt.
She’s two years older than I am. I didn’t know her when she was fourteen, but that’s when she went goth.
We went to different schools and still live on completely different sides of Providence.
It was just an incredibly lucky encounter that I needed a corset for Drama Club.
I thought the adorable little goth store downtown would have exactly what I needed, and they did.
They had the corset and Mika.
She’s drawn her brows on in two red, whip-thin lines, and they plunge over her nose as she steps inside.
“Babe! You can’t just text me that you caught Kevin cheating on you and that your whole world has crashed into a dumpster fire deep in an enchanted forest where wizards changed the raccoons into mutated beasts with really long teeth and sharp nails, and they’re so hungry for blood that they’re swarming up and putting together an infallible plot to eat your eyeballs and slowly work their way into your brain matter. ”
Shit sticks. I know better than to text when I’m an emotional wreck and half asleep. “I did send that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and then you didn’t answer me, which led me to believe that the raccoons did eat your brain.”
It’s not even five in the morning. How on earth did she get ready and get her ass over here this fast? She lives on the expensive side of Providence in her mom’s freaking mansion. I live on…well, not the expensive side. It’s a bit of a hike.
“Ten thousand hours,” Mika responds. She shuts the door and kicks off her six-inch leather platforms with copious amounts of silver skulls. “The makeup. It only takes ten minutes now that I have so much practice.”
She always knows what I’m thinking, but it’s hard to get a good read on her. The red contacts and all the makeup are a pretty good poker face in themselves.
“We have an issue,” Mika grunts as she flops down on my couch.
My whole condo is basically a soul-sucking color scheme of black, white, and grey.
My parents helped me with the down payment, and my mom very helpfully paid for some good quality furniture that “would be trendy for years” and that I “could keep for a lifetime,” even if I didn’t like it.
She picked out the colors because “neutrals sell well in the end.”
“My life is also an engineered dumpster fire,” Mika groans, propping her bare feet up on the espresso-hued coffee table and wriggling her toes so her black sparkly nail polish winks in the red glow from the lava lamp up on the bookshelf.
I have a few guilty pleasures in the form of personal touches in here.
There’s something about shared misery that unites people. We’re already besties, so we’ll cry together regardless, but it’s nice to plop down beside her and wither together in our collective nuclear waste.
“Kevin is a total dickwad, by the way, and I can give you some money to get your car fixed if you need it.”
“I…I think I have it covered.” My face heats up painfully when I think about the loan from last night. Two grand in cash, tucked safely in my purse.
Did that even happen?
Right now, last night feels like a nightmare that veered off and turned into a very strange fantasy dream that involved one very incredible piano, one crazy hot mystery zaddy, and robot spiders.
Alright, minus the robot spider and add in a tow truck.
Mika has one of those new fold phones. When she opens it, it pretty much looks like a tablet. She swipes a few times and passes it over to me. “Mom woke me up at the butt crack of dawn this morning, freaking out about my dad.”
“What about your dad?” I haven’t looked at her phone yet. I’m too focused on her face. Something about her tone tells me a major storm cloud is about to piss all over our already rained-out parade.
“He’s getting married. My mom had to find out via the internet. Apparently, the story broke super early this morning. I guess it made the news because it’s a socialite thing, and Providence isn’t that big. He’s marrying Geneiva Barnet. Daughter of Wendell Barnet, a hotel mogul from Europe.”
“I…oh my god. Is this an arranged thing between two rich people for connections?”
Mika’s velvet-clad shoulder rises up and down in a halfhearted shrug, making the lace at the end of her sleeves dance.
“I called him right after my mom came into my room and freaking shook me awake. She was giving all the major drama vibes. I don’t even know why it should matter to her.
She and my dad haven’t been together since eighteen forty-eight, and she’s the reason for it. ”
Mika’s parents divorced when she was three.
According to her, they were crazy in love when they first met, but then they found out they were pregnant, and it rushed their wedding along.
Things were okay for a while until they weren’t.
Marlene was the one who wanted a divorce.
After Mika’s dad became rich by finding the antique score of the century after the divorce, he even bought Marlene a house, paid her ridiculous child support payments, and made sure Mika had everything she needed.
Despite him trying to do the right thing, Marlene pretty much entered into her villain era and made his life a living hell.
Mika knows her mom basically kept her dad from seeing her all throughout her childhood.
Marlene was so wicked about it, and she never even bothered to hide or make excuses for it.
It was left to Mika to sift through the lies and booby traps.
At first, it was hard for her, being just a kid, but as she got older, it became easier and easier.
I wouldn’t say she has a relationship with her dad. I’d even call them estranged. She doesn’t hate him. It’s more like they’re standing on two different sides of a river, and all the bridges have been obliterated, and neither of them can swim or fly.
Mika doesn’t talk about her dad very often, but I know that underneath her tough girl exterior is a little girl who misses her dad very much.
I’ve gleaned whatever information I know about her dad from snippets of information over the six years of knowing her, but it’s not much. I don’t even know his full name or what he looks like.
“Ugh, he tried to tell me on the phone that this is just a marriage of convenience. He wants to expand to Europe, and their family needs his money, I guess. They’re running out.
Cash-poor trying to maintain all their castles or something.
It’s an open marriage where they’ll both be discreet and continue on with their lives as if they’re not married at all. ”
My nose wrinkles before I can stop it. I should get up and make coffee. This is a java conversation if I’ve ever heard one. “I’m not trying to be a prude or get my judgmental bag on, but what the heck? Why even bother?”
Mika shakes her head, her wild red ponytail whipping through the air. She has this black plastic cone thing on top that makes it stand up half a foot tall. She also has extensions in, and her hair is like festival vibes and an exploding volcano had a baby.
But she pulls it off effortlessly.
“Read the article. It’s ridiculous. Who gets married in two months?”
The thing that pops up at the top of the page she loaded on her phone is two photos. A man and an elegant, distinguished, beautiful blond woman.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
No!
No times a thousand.
No times a million topped with smelly cheese and smelly cheese socks.
“Hey! Do you need to poop? I can wait here. It’s not a problem.”
I swallow past the monumental blockage of holy shit, please, god, don’t let this be happening that is blocking my throat.
“I don’t need to poop,” I wheeze. “But I need…uh…coffee. Water. Tea. Juice. Anything.”
Mika jumps up and races to the kitchen, which is only three feet away. Within moments, she’s back with a tall glass of water that I chug back. But it does nothing to erase what’s staring me in the face, and it hits my empty stomach like a bomb.
“What? What’s wrong? You look like you just figured out that you have an extra foot. Or a monstrous wort has spontaneously bloomed on the tip of your nose.”
I immediately touch my nose and check my foot.