Chapter 6
The next two hours were a blur.
For Ingrid, it was like surfing, riding the wave that she had unexpectedly caught with Sailor.
She read palms and auras in a heady, fevered rush, never knowing what words would come out of her mouth.
Edie and the Goddess had seen her need, felt her desire, and together they had granted her this beautiful, blessed favor.
Afterward in the anteroom, the other girls chatted away, laughing and passing around what was left of the champagne. Sailor pressed something into Ingrid’s hand.
“Thank you so much.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Ingrid said. Still, her fingers closed around the gratifyingly thick fold of cash.
“You deserve it.” Sailor watched as her bridal party spilled through the door out onto the sidewalk. It was still radiating heat but shadier now because of the position of the afternoon sun and the canopy of trees. Ingrid reached out and grabbed her arm.
No! What was she doing?
She couldn’t … wouldn’t … shouldn’t say that …
“She’s been sending him pictures,” Ingrid said as quickly as she could, before she could chicken out.
Sailor looked like she’d been slapped. She hesitated, her lips parting, then moistened them with the tip of her tongue. She breathed deeply, pressing her lips together again, her eyes following her friends now laughing on the sidewalk.
Oh no. No. You’ve ruined it.
You’ve ruined everything—
Ingrid gulped. “I don’t know why I said … that. I don’t want to cause a problem. Sorry.”
“It’s Finley, right?” Sailor’s eyes burned into her.
Ingrid hesitated.
“I need to know. Please. Go on. She’s not sending pictures to Jude, is she? My fiancé?”
Ingrid shook her head. “I’m pretty sure it’s … someone else … someone close to you. Sorry,” she said again.
Sailor sucked in her cheeks, thinking. After a moment, she shook her head. “Damn it. Shit. I told her to stay away from him. That he was vulnerable. I warned her.”
“I’m really, really sorry.” Ingrid wished she could think of something else to say.
Sailor turned to her. “Don’t be. Honestly, there aren’t that many people that would do that. Tell me the truth. You’re a really brave person, Ingrid.”
Ingrid blinked. “Oh.”
“I could kill her,” Sailor muttered. “She’s definitely out of the wedding. I’m done with her. Finished.”
Ingrid cracked her knuckles nervously. “Maybe you should give it some thought—”
Sailor looked grim. “Oh hell, no. This isn’t her first infraction, believe me. I’ve just got to figure out a time I can get her alone to tell her. Fuck.”
Ingrid waited awkwardly, and then Sailor turned back to her and tilted her head, suddenly regarding Ingrid like she was seeing her for the first time.
“I know it’s last minute, but if you don’t have anything else to do tonight … I’d love if you could come to a party. My engagement party. It’s at my house, my parents’ house. I’d … I’d really love it if you could make it. For moral support.”
Sailor’s eyes held a pleading expression, and Ingrid knew, with full and complete certainty, that asking for favors was not something Sailor Loeffler usually did. But she was doing it now, and Ingrid felt a delicious frisson of anticipation.
“I’d love to come,” she said in a breathy voice.
“Oh.” A surprised, relieved smile broke over Sailor’s pretty face. “Oh gosh, Ingrid, you will? Wow. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Ingrid nodded back at her.
“It’s at seven.”
A head appeared in the open doorway, one of the blondes. “Sailor, come on!” she said. “We need to get back to the hotel to have enough time to prep for the party.” Gales of uproarious drunken laughter erupted beyond her.
“Coming.” Sailor turned back to Ingrid. “It’s the Noble Hardee Mansion on Monterey Square. Southwest corner.”
Of course. Ingrid knew where the Loefflers lived.
The Noble Hardee Mansion presided over the corner of West Gordon and Bull Street on Monterey Square, a palatial huge cream-and-gold Italianate house with grand windows and miles of cast iron balconies and balustrades.
The house was reported to have fifteen fireplaces and had hosted at least one president in its illustrious history.
Ingrid must’ve walked past the place at least twice a day, every day of her life—or at least since she’d come to live with Edie.
In fact, Ingrid had often looked up into the windows of the mansion, trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious people who spent their days and nights in such grandeur and wondering what the rooms looked like behind the curtains.
Wondering, too, how people who lived in a house like that spent their time.
Soon she would know.
“Seven o’clock. I’ll be there.”
Sailor lunged toward her, wrapping her arms around her in a warm, bracing hug. Ingrid was enveloped by a heady mixture of expensive-smelling body and hair products. She froze, unsure of what to do.
“I had no idea today was going to turn out this way,” Sailor said, holding her tightly. “I can’t believe it. I really can’t. I’m going to tell everyone I know to come see you, I hope you’re okay with that. You’re going to have more business than you can handle, I guarantee.”
“SaySay! Come on!” The same girl who’d stuck her head inside the door before saw them hugging and frowned.
Sailor released Ingrid. “I’ve got to go. Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart. You’ll never know what you’ve done. And …” She leaned in again, adding in a whisper, “Wish me luck.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Good luck.”
Sailor hurried to the door and then she was gone. Ingrid heard a waft of conversation as the women made their way down the sidewalk, just a comment one of the bridal party made as they trouped to their next destination.
“Oh my God, that whole thing was so fucking creepy!”
Finley, she thought, of the black lace thong and the texted pictures. She was the soon-to-be ex-bridesmaid. The one about to be dismissed from Sailor’s presence. And Ingrid was going to the party.
Ingrid couldn’t help but smile.