Chapter Five
Gemma
Icall it twin magic.
For as long as I can remember, Dempsey, my brother, twin, and built-in best friend has always been there to comfort me or cheer me up whenever I’ve had a bad day.
Today has been awful and Dempsey’s timing is impeccable.
“Want me to have Sloane arrest him?”
I chuckle as we cruise out of the parking lot in his beast of a car. I’m low-key jealous he got himself this bad boy when I’m stuck driving the practical Tahoe.
“You can’t arrest him for being an asshole,” I say, shaking my head. “But if it were possible, he’d totally be in cuffs right now.”
“I’m sure my woman can dig up some dirt on him. She’s pretty good at that shit.”
I reach over and pat Dempsey’s hand that’s on the stick shift. It’s a reminder of why I can’t drive a car like this. I’d have no idea how to even make it go.
“I love you,” I tell him. “Just knowing you hate him on principle because I do makes my day.”
He groans when I disconnect his Bluetooth and hook mine in. It’s our deal. If he’s going to drive, I get to choose the music. I settle on something new I heard while scrolling through social media the other day. The smooth voice of the singer calms my erratically beating heart.
“I found a new place the other day,” Dempsey says as he dutifully uses his blinker. Sloane must be rubbing off on him. He’s marrying a cop who doesn’t put up with his bullshit. “It’s small and cozy. They probably don’t even have a Facebook, so you can’t post it to the ’Gram or whatever.”
My brother seriously has no clue what I do. I think he thinks I make posts and people pay me for it. Technically, when you boil it down, I suppose they do. Well, the sponsors at least. But I hate when he minimizes it.
However, the thought of going someplace hidden and private sounds enticing. I’m in need of Dempsey time without an audience.
“Sloane meeting us there?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the dash.
“Nah,” he grunts. “She and Montgomery are working a case. There was a body found on Park Mountain Lake this weekend.”
“It’s too cold to swim,” I say, shivering. “Do you think they drowned or…”
“Or. Definitely or. But Sloane doesn’t need my help.”
Dempsey drives us down Main Street and whips into a parking spot. The building in front of us is weathered and the windows are painted brown. A sign is tacked to the worn-out wooden door that says, “Soup and More. 8-8.”
“This place looks sketchy,” I mutter, squinting against the sun to get a better look. “You sure you don’t want to grab something to eat at your place?”
He laughs as he shuts off the car. “Come on, princess, you’re going to be fine.”
Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the vehicle, following my brother into the building. At first, the darkness of the building is such a contrast to the sunny outdoors that I find myself temporarily blinded, which has my heart hammering in my chest. But as I begin to adjust, I realize the restaurant isn’t sketchy at all.
First off, it smells heavenly. A cooked garlic and onions scent permeates the air, making my stomach growl. There’s a small counter that has glass displays filled with various breads and desserts. Behind it, a tiny woman around Mom’s age roots around in a cabinet. The restaurant itself only has three tables and four booths. Along the walls, there are shelves filled with knickknacks, candles, and other small items that look to be for sale.
Soups and More.
I’m guessing all that stuff is the “more.”
“Hey, kids,” the woman says in greeting. “What can I get ya?”
Dempsey orders for the both of us and then ushers me over to a cozy booth near the big painted window.
“Why doesn’t she scrape that paint off?” I ask, gesturing to the window. “I bet she’d get a lot more business.”
Dempsey grunts and shakes his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Start trying to figure out a way to help this lady get business. I can see your wheels turning. Do not, for the love of God, put anything on your socials. I’m serious. If this turns into some stupid trendy hangout, I’ll never forgive you.”
The woman brings over the drinks Dempsey ordered us—frothy rootbeer in frozen mugs—and promises to be back shortly with the daily soup special.
“I don’t put restaurants on there,” I remind him. “It doesn’t fit my aesthetic.”
“Thank fuck for your carefully culled aesthetic, whatever the hell that means.”
It’s no use explaining to my brother for the millionth time, so I ignore it and circle back to my terrible morning.
“I think I’m going to just drop the class,” I say with a sigh. “You saw what a prick that guy was. And to have to be partners with him? Gross.”
“I’m sure Dad will be so thrilled for you to drop out over a boy.” He snorts with laughter. “Can I be there when you tell him?”
“You’re as bad as Callum. Leave Dad alone. You know everything he does is out of love.”
“Just saying,” he continues, “I want to see his face when his little angel doesn’t do something perfect.”
“I hate you.”
“Nah, womb mate, you love me forever.”
“I just don’t get why this weirdo decided to hate on me.” I sip on my root beer and then frown at Dempsey. “He asked if I knew Mom. I think his beef is with her.”
Dempsey straightens, face contorting into a scowl. “Mom? What the fuck?”
“Right? I was just sure he was one of Callum’s old students or maybe you kicked his ass one time. You know, the usual Park family drama. But Mom? She’s harmless and sweet. Everyone loves her.”
“Callum doesn’t.”
“Because she dumped him to marry Dad. Understandable. But Two?”
“Two?”
“That’s this guy’s name. Two Sheridan.”
“Who names their kid Two?”
“Focus, Demps. Why does Two have beef with Mom?”
He pulls out his phone. “We could call and ask her.”
“No!” I say with a huff. “Don’t call her. Because, if you do, then Dad will get involved. If Dad knows this guy is messing with me, who knows what he’ll do.”
“Hmm,” Dempsey says in a teasing voice, “actually, I do. He’ll hunt down the guy, destroy him financially, and then lock you in your room forever so it doesn’t happen again.”
The tiny woman brings us two trays. On each is a piping hot bowl of soup and a fat, crusty French roll. We thank her and then I glower at my brother.
“Exactly,” I grumble. “I’ll figure this out on my own.”
“I could whip his ass.” He shrugs as though that will go over well with his cop fiancée. “I could even recruit Spencer to help.”
“Spencer would probably befriend him just to terrorize me.”
We stop the conversation for a moment to sample the hot soup. It’s savory, thick, and delicious. I see bits of rice, carrots, chicken, and other veggies. So tasty.
“Good choice,” I say around a bite, burning my tongue in the process. “This is really good.”
“Yeah, that’s why you can’t ruin it trying to ‘influence’ your cult followers.” He makes quotations with his fingers, grinning stupidly at me.
“I’m just being a baby about this, huh?”
“You’re always a baby, but you’re our baby.”
I flip him off, my mind still lingering on Two as I eat the tasty soup. The bread is warm and full of flavor. I can definitely see why Dempsey loves this place.
Eventually, we get on the topic of Beauty, Dempsey and Sloane’s new puppy, and he tells me about how she chewed up a pair of Sloane’s panties.
“She was pissed,” he says with a grin. “They were her favorite period panties.”
I curl my lip up. “TMI, Demps. Some stuff you just keep to yourself.”
He cracks up laughing and then polishes off his bowl. “I’m going to grab us some dessert. Be right back.”
As soon as he leaves, I decide to check in on my socials. I love looking at the analytics of each post or video to see how many people it reached and how many of those people interacted. Dempsey chats up the lady at the counter, so I decide to peek at my messages. Sometimes it takes me hours to get through them, so if I stay on it, checking in every couple of hours, I don’t drown in messages. Sure enough, I have nearly fifty that need going through.
One catches my eye.
@TwoCanPlayThisGameX2
It’s that creepy profile that messaged me yesterday. They created another account. I’m inclined to just delete and block without looking at the message, but curiosity has me opening it.
Online, you’re anything but real.
Two’s harsh voice fills my head. Fake. I’d been hurt by such a simple word. Being called fake is something that happens often to me, but it’d been extra brutal coming out of Two’s mouth this morning.
Is this him?
Is he the one messaging me?
As much as I’d love to pin the weirdo as also being the creep, I know that’s a reach. Two didn’t know who I was until I introduced myself this morning in class. He wasn’t impressed either.
Against my better judgment, I reply to the creepy account.
Who is this?
I tap my sharp nails on the table surface as I wait for a response. Seconds later, I get a reply that makes my blood run cold.
You’ll know me soon enough.
“Best chocolate mousse pie this side of the Pacific,” Dempsey says, dropping a piece of pie down beside my tray. “Cara guarantees it.”
“Who’s Cara?” I ask, distracted by the bone-chilling message I just received.
“Soup lady Cara. Over there. Pay attention.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “This dude really does have you all fucked in the head.”
For once, today, this isn’t about Two.
It’s about this person doing their damnedest to scare me. Maybe it’s Spencer. This sounds exactly like something he’d do.
Or it could be something far more sinister.
I don’t respond to the sender and instead block and delete like I should have from the beginning. This creep is probably sitting in his mom’s basement in some other country far away from me. No need to worry.
“I’m fine,” I say to Dempsey, tossing my phone into my bag and flashing him a brilliant smile. “See. All better.”
He pushes the plate toward me. “Good. Now try the pie and report back.”
He digs into his, practically inhaling it. Amused at his excitement, I follow suit and take a bite. An explosion of silky, decadent, rich chocolate assaults my taste buds in the most delightful way.
“Oh,” I groan, “wow.”
“Right? Will Sloane be disappointed if I dump her for Cara?”
We both crack up laughing. There’s no way in hell Dempsey would ever let Sloane go. It’s amusing to imagine, though.
When we’re finished with lunch, we thank Cara and promise to come back in soon. It makes me a little sad that we were the only ones in there the entire time at what should be one of the busier times of day for a restaurant.
“We totally need to come back again soon,” I tell Dempsey as we get back in his car.
“Hell yeah. I knew I’d have you falling in love with this place.”
“Do you think it’ll survive much longer?”
“Gemma.”
“I know, I know. I promise not to tell the world about it. But seriously, though, if she ever mentions closing, I’m going to break my promise.”
“Fine. Then and only then are you allowed to put this place on blast.”
With my belly full and in the company of my obnoxious brother, I’m feeling tons better than this morning. Both the weirdo and creep who tried to ruin my day can go to hell.
I’m done being bothered by either one of them.