Chapter 13 Avery
Avery
“I’ve got the plates ready,” her mom said, as Avery stepped over the threshold with the Malaysian takeout she’d collected on her way over. Though her mom’s auburn bob was glossy and her makeup immaculately done, the eyes behind her pastel glasses were tired.
She wasn’t the only one.
The usual concern piled on top of a general layer of irritation as Avery trailed her mom through to the spotlessly clean kitchen, trying to shake off the fog of too little sleep and a day that had tested her from the very start.
Violet took an open bottle of wine from the fridge and topped up her own glass. “Will you join me?” She tipped it in Avery’s direction.
God, could I use one. “Yeah, but make it small.”
They dished up the food and Avery dug into her purse for the small bottle of hot sauce she’d brought with her.
“I don’t know how you eat that stuff.” Her mom pulled a face, but there was something close to a smile on her lips. “It must overpower the flavor of anything you put it on.”
“I think it’s an addiction,” Avery admitted, giving the bottle a shake. “Nothing tastes as good without it anymore. Bel says I need therapy.”
There was an awkward lull as they sat down at the table and Avery cast around for a suitable conversation starter that wouldn’t involve the jumbled tangle of things she had no desire to discuss.
I had a great time at the lake! Got right up close and personal with the only guy who could tempt me to break my dating ban and then said goodbye with a weird nod from a distance and no actual words after a rowdy breakfast. Plus Gemma threw herself at Leo in a drunken stupor, was sick all night, and is now swearing off men and alcohol.
Oh, and to top it off I’ve had a ton of trolling comments on a livestream I posted on Friday and it’s pissing me off . . .
Who the hell gave someone abuse for deconstructing a footstool?
It made no sense.
But none of this was worth mentioning to her mom.
Asking about her mother’s weekend would also be a bust. Any plans for the week were a similar minefield.
Her parents’ social lives had been seamlessly intertwined until Avery told the lie that made the paths of Joseph Delgado and Ottoline Harris collide.
In the fallout, her mom had retreated from it all, cutting herself off from everyone but Avery.
She rarely went out, and the lack of exercise, fresh air or stimulation meant she slept poorly, too. It was far from healthy.
“Watched any good TV recently?” Avery fell back on a regular query that often saw satisfactory results, but even that was the wrong choice.
Her mom drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I pressed something on the remote by accident and set the subtitles to Spanish.”
“I’ll take a look after dinner,” Avery promised, swallowing a sigh and summoning up a smile instead. “It’ll be an easy fix.”
“Nothing’s easy when you live on your own and you don’t have anyone to ask.” Her mother pushed a forkful of char kway teow around her plate.
“You have me,” Avery said firmly. “I’ll sort it. And I’ll check out the shower, too.”
“Your father used to be so good at all the household maintenance.”
“Dad used to be good at calling other people who knew what to do,” she pointed out. “He wasn’t handy himself.”
“He was a very busy man.” Her mom’s statement was a reprimand. Clandestine affairs and a messy divorce had failed to knock Joseph Delgado from the pedestal Violet had placed him on.
Yeah, he’d been busy. It took time juggling other women alongside a mayoral role. And after he’d left them he’d certainly been too busy to pick up any of the pieces. That had been Avery’s job.
She shook off the weighted memories and tried to step out from under the gray cloud that often seemed to hang over her mom’s orderly house. “Luckily for you, I’m pretty handy around the house, too. There’s not much I can’t do with the help of YouTube.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that she’d also be living alone when Drew finally managed to talk Bel into moving in with him—something Avery was resigned to and dreaded in equal proportions.
Even more terrifying, though, was the very real prospect that her mom would see this as the perfect opportunity to pressure Avery into living with her. And that was never going to happen.
They discussed the food as they ate, debating their favorite dishes, and Avery took it as a win when she got her mother to try the tiniest drop of hot sauce.
“Oh, Avery—that’s burning my lips!” Violet reached for her wine glass and the atmosphere lightened just a little.
Sliding her empty plate to one side, Avery pushed to her feet. “Right. TV first. Then I’ll look at the shower.”
The next few days followed the regular weekday pattern and the online abuse seemed to take hold and grow. Having never had a problem with it before, Avery couldn’t understand why it had started now.
“As fast as I block them, I get a new one,” she complained to Bel as she fixed her a dirty martini—heavy on the dirty—during her next bar shift. “How can there be this many people out there with a passionate hatred of upholstery?”
“Babe, keyboard warriors don’t need a reason to lash out.
They jet poison like a human water cannon and love every minute of it.
” Bel rolled her eyes and took an appreciative sip of her cocktail.
“You just have to ignore the shit out of their pitiful existence and they’ll move onto someone else soon. ”
Avery hoped she was right. The derogatory comments about her hair, her voice, her boobs, and her ass were mortifying. The ones about her professional skills—or lack thereof—were plain infuriating.
“It’s the Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory,” Leo drawled, pushing his empty glass toward her across the bar. He ran a hand over his beard, the blue of his t-shirt a shade darker than his eyes. “Normal Person plus Anonymity plus Audience equals Total Fuckwad. Just keep blocking and deleting, Ave.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She moved to the beer tap. “You having another?”
The Rusty Barrel hadn’t gotten busy yet, and Bel and Leo, both dropping in for an early drink on their way home from work, were taking advantage of the lull before the storm.
“Please.” Leo nodded. He could walk to his place in ten minutes at an easy stroll and pick up his car in the morning.
“Don’t look now, but it wouldn’t be the biggest shocker if my top troll suspect has just walked through the door.” Avery murmured the words without moving her lips, only to have Bel and Leo both immediately swing their heads in the most obvious, choreographed arc. “Great, guys. Well done.”
“Urgh, Paige ‘the human lightning rod for grudges’ Harris.” Bel wrinkled her nose. “You could be right there.”
Of course Paige spotted them in the nearly empty bar. Of course Kai, the only other bartender, was in the middle of serving the only other group in the place. Of course that meant Paige and Mandy Roberts headed their way.
“Hey.” Avery greeted Ottoline Harris’s daughter—her stepsister, her ex-friend—with a neutral expression.
Mandy, the niece of the town’s old chief of police, and another school friend to position herself in Paige’s camp during the aftermath of the wreckage created by Avery’s father and Principal Harris, gave her a frosty nod. “What can I get for you both?”
The two girls placed their order without acknowledging either Bel or Leo.
“Still pulling the bar shifts, then.” Paige’s smile stalked Avery as she reached for clean glasses.
“I love how you state the obvious with such a sense of discovery,” Bel said with a delicate sip of her drink.
Paige didn’t spare her so much as a glance. “I wasn’t talking to your attack dog, Ave, so you can call it off.”
“Yes, I’m still here. At your service and loving life.” Spooning ice from the bucket, Avery chose to ignore the comment, the way she’d trained herself to ignore ninety percent of what came out of Paige’s mouth. “How are things with you?”
“Very busy. The hours are long, but helping people is so rewarding.” Paige swept her bangs off her face.
“I know what you mean. I feel the same,” said Avery, placing the two gin and lemonades in front of the girls. “Enjoy. That’ll be twelve dollars, please.”
There was a pitying smile on Paige’s lips when she ran her eyes around the bar. “I don’t think our careers are comparable. I literally save lives on a daily basis.”
“You work in pharmaceutical dispensing, Paige. Not humanitarian aid.” Avery’s reply was droll as Mandy pushed her card into the chip slot.
“And yet your father is so invested in everything I do. I’m not sure you can say the same.” Saccharine dripped from the carefully delivered jab as Paige picked up her drink, already turning away from the bar. “Have a lovely evening. Don’t work too hard.”
“Off to save the world, one corn cushion at a time,” said Leo, just loud enough for her to hear, and Bel snickered as Paige’s shoulders visibly tightened.
Avery tried not to let her barb take root. Though they’d been close at school, there was too much murky water under the bridge now to expect any kindness from Paige. The collateral damage was so much worse when friendships went bad and newfound enemies knew all your weakest spots.
That reminded her. “Have you managed to smooth things over with Gem?” she asked Leo.
Faceplanting into his hands, he gave a prolonged groan. “I’ve done my best but she’s just not getting it. Tell me, am I the asshole here? I don’t know how to make it any plainer without being cruel. I just don’t like Gemma the way she wants me to.”
Avery passed him his beer. “It’s not your fault and you’re not an asshole. I’ve met enough to know.”
“She’ll get over it,” Bel said baldly. “She’ll have to. You can’t force these things—you either feel it or you don’t.”
“I wish I did,” Leo grunted. “It’d be so much simpler.”
It already seemed as if the Bach Bash had happened ages ago.
“Did you end up giving Tanner your number?” Bel asked, her dark eyes sharp and searching.
“No point.” Avery shrugged. “And he didn’t ask for it.”
“Would you have if he had?” Leo raised an eyebrow.
Propping both elbows on the bar, she rested her chin on the heel of one hand. “He didn’t,” she said again.
Avery had been telling herself that it was better for Tanner Stone to slide out of her life as easily as he had slid back into it. By Savannah’s wedding, he’d probably be dating someone new and any temptation would be tempered by his unavailability.
The thought curdled in Avery’s stomach even as she forced herself to acknowledge the truth of it.
Tanner was far too hot a commodity to stay single for long.
Over the years, she’d caught glimpses of his dates in the tabloids or on social media; they’d all been as gorgeous as him, most of them in the public eye.
He wouldn’t struggle to find the next candidate, another eager admirer.
“What if he had?” prompted Bel, and Avery had sympathy for the clients who found themselves on the other end of her friend’s unwavering persistence.
“He’s a celebrity, wealthy, popular, busy, in demand.” Avery ticked each point off on her fingers. “He’s sex-on-legs, with endless opportunity to screw around, and I am so not up for that.”
“But you don’t want a relationship,” Bel pointed out with uncompromising accuracy. “So what does any of that matter? If you wanted a short-term fling with anyone, he sounds like the perfect person to do it with.”
And Avery, desperate to refute that, found herself scrabbling for a response.