Chapter 4 #2
I squint at the design, really seeing lines, the shape, and my heart thumps a rapid beat as the meaning leaps out at me.
The phallic shape of the caterpillar—Maddox.
The hookah that embodies the blessed relief from the torment of watching my dad die.
It’s all so agonizingly clear. But I say none of what’s laid out so blatantly, and instead say, “It’s just a bug. ”
A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. “Indeed.” With a lift of a single brow, he adds, “I look forward to seeing this when it’s finished.” He strolls on to the next easel, muttering, “Just a bug…”
…as if he saw directly into my mind and read my thoughts.
Every October, at the end of the month, Katherine hosts her annual gala—because, God forbid, anyone should call it a party.
Her brain might explode—or her ego. Actually, probably both.
My mother is obscenely over-the-top. It’s embarrassing.
Her gala is always this grand affair—a spectacle—and this year, I have to attend.
The figurative shit will definitely hit the fan if I don’t, and of all the hills I’ve chosen to die on over the years, this one isn’t worth the aggravation.
While in Riverton, I had the perfect excuse for not attending.
The drive was simply too far, I’d tell her.
But I’m home now, and worse, I’m living in her house.
There’s literally no feasible excuse I can think of that will prevent me from having to make, at the very least, an appearance.
This year’s theme is a carnival masquerade, and I can only imagine how extra it’s going to be, so if nothing else, at least Ivory and I will have a blast poking fun at Wonderland’s theatrical aristocracy.
With classes over for the day, I stroll across Brakel Green, squinting against the glare of the early afternoon sun.
I scroll through the photos of gowns Ivory sent me, glancing up and ahead of me as I walk the concrete path toward the parking lot.
Each dress is more stunning than the last, and all various shades of white—of course. But one stands out among the rest.
Me: Fourth one. Def
The gown is slinky, with a hint of silvery shimmer woven into the pale silk.
Ivory: Knew that’s the one youd like most
Ivory: Ur turn
My mother’s party is a month away, and that leaves me plenty of time to buy a dress for the damn thing. And sorry, but I’m not calling it a gala simply because Katherine likes to pretend she’s special. My mother is just an average gold-digger who bagged the golden goose—twice.
Me: Saturday good?
Ivory: Today’s better
Or we can go now.
It’s not as if I’m in a rush to get home. The only thing waiting for me is my artwork, and they won’t complain if I take some time for myself.
Me: Sure. Where?
Ivory: Dapper Dame
Me: Perfect. See ya in a few
Phone still in hand, I slow my pace as I approach my SUV.
My stomach flip-flops, and my hand flies to my mouth to smother a gasp.
Shit, shit, shit. Red flags wave wildly in front of my eyes.
Warning alarms ring in my ears as I zero in on the small, folded rectangular paper tucked neatly under the windshield wiper.
My first instinct is to call… I don’t know.
The police? Ivory? But I call no one, because it could be anything.
A flyer advertising a frat party. An announcement for the new coffee shop that recently opened.
A call for a campus protest. Literally anything.
My brain, however, snaps right into the worst-case scenario and shifts me into full panic mode.
Fight-or-flight instinct activated. I swing around, scanning the parking and Brakel Green.
There’s no threat.
He’s not here.
At least, I don’t see him.
I shrug off my backpack and keep the cell phone in my hand as I dig for my keys. Damn near hyperventilating. I scramble into the SUV and immediately lock the doors, toss the bag on the passenger’s seat, and race the hell out of the lot as if Satan himself is hot on my tail.
Look, it’s never a bad thing to err on the side of caution.
In fact, I take an ungodly long and zigzagged route to Dapper Dame’s while keeping a cautious eye on the rearview mirror.
I even make four consecutive turns to complete a circle to ensure no one is on my tail.
Only when I note that I’m not being followed does my breathing calm and my heart rate slow back to its normal pace.
And when I finally arrive at the dress shop and cautiously slide out from behind the wheel, I check what’s on my windshield.
My fingers tremble as I unfold the paper, and…
…damn you, Maddox Hathorne.
Jesus Christ, this man.
I returned to Wonderland to escape a crazy stalker, not gain a new one.
Life, however, is a brutal bitch that always seems to have a way of destroying an excellent plan, because here’s Maddox, being a creeper who leaves notes on my car.
Eat me.
With Love, M
That’s what the note reads…
…along with a coupon for a free cupcake from the Tea Party, the best bakery in town.
This is Maddox’s way of telling me he remembers that their cupcakes are my favorite.
Well, he can take his coupon and shove it right up his ass.
Or, on second thought, I shouldn’t be rash because I could use a damn cupcake after the scare he gave me.