Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
Warrior (noun): A woman who ain’t out here burning energy on petty jabs.
Steady in her stride no matter the static.
—From Remy’s Badass Bitch Affirmations
Remy
“Well, fuckadoodledo. That’s…a lot. No wonder you pinged us.” Lila settled back on the chair and reached for her wine glass, her empty plate abandoned on the coffee table. “Allow me to offer a CliffsNotes summary, if I may, just so we’re sure our wise counsel is on point.”
The ziti was long gone, and they’d worked their way through two bottles—with Nell nursing her one glass.
Initially, they’d just chatted, sharing little things about their lives and getting to know each other.
Remy, of course, kept her contributions high level and sanitized.
Enough to participate and not seem closed off or standoffish—which was an adjective she’d heard used to describe her many times.
It never really bothered her, because it had never really mattered.
She’d never cared about establishing friendships before.
But this felt different.
Sometime after the second bottle was decanted, Lila told Remy no more dillydallying.
It was time to ‘spill the deets’ behind the SOS text.
So she did, detailing almost everything from the first moment she’d met Sebastian to their Miami trip to their growing bond.
She left out their arrangement, since Gen wasn’t privy to those details, along with her personal history that she’d shared with Sebastian yesterday.
Lila steepled her fingers. “Bash freaking Wheatley charmed his way into your life. Then he whisked you away to Miami for a dream experience. Where he then proceeded to charm his way into your joy garden, pounding you into the mattress, repeatedly bringing you to the Big O finish line. He’s ensconced himself into your home and your life.
He loves Chicane—but what’s not to love?
” Lila looked over at where Chicane was hopping around in his house.
“You both are Star Wars fans and you binged your favorites with People’s reigning Sexiest Man Alive.
And now he’s going away for a few days, the idea of which is making you feel lonely.
And a bit…discombobulated by some new and powerful emotions.
” She took a sip. “Did I get that right?”
Remy briefly closed her eyes and nodded miserably, feeling not much older than the seventeen-year-old version of her gossiping and giggling with Etta about the boys in school.
Across from Lila, Gen’s lips twitched, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Sweetheart, you’ve caught feelings for Bash Wheatley. And it sounds like he caught them too. And fast.”
Lila arched an eyebrow and nodded in Gen’s direction.
Her meaning was clear. She was the only one in the room not aware of the fake relationship and her deal with a wickedly sensual devil who was walking, talking sin and temptation.
And, somehow, their club had smoothly become a foursome.
Meaning, if Gen were really going to be a part, she needed to know the full story.
Remy’s mouth opened and closed. She rubbed a temple with two fingers, processing Lila’s unspoken comment. “I know,” Remy finally affirmed miserably. “And it can’t end well.”
“Why not?” Gen asked, frowning with confusion.
Remy rolled her head against the back cushion to face Gen, who’d sunk into the other overstuffed chair. She filled her lungs with air, wrangling with the impulse to tell Gen the truth. It seemed pointless to keep it from her.
And yet…other than Lila, whom she’d known professionally for more than a decade, she barely knew Nell and Gen—though she’d blurted the real story to Nell early on.
If she revealed the nature of her deal with Sebastian, and one of them wasn’t what they appeared, it would blow up a carefully constructed ruse.
Worse…Walter Pennyrose would yank away Sebastian’s dream role, and he’d become far too important to her to let that happen.
She examined Gen, her mind and heart warring.
Remy had naturally gravitated to Etta, who’d become the truest of friends.
The kind that turns into a sister of the heart.
But considering her heinous choice in life partners—a.k.a.
Doug Greene—she couldn’t call herself a shrewd judge of character, either.
What if Gen, Nell, and Lila weren’t as they appeared?
Her fellow Red Wine Supper Club members sat quietly, giving her space to process. She stared at the picture of Etta and Tasha on the mantle, their happy faces pressed together, beaming with joy and love. Remy’s throat caught with tears.
“It’s ok, Remy.” Nell rubbed soothing circles on her back.
“You don’t need to say anything more.” When a lone tear snaked down Remy’s cheek, Nell reached for an unused napkin and handed it to her.
“The Red Wine Supper Club is a vault. But no one needs to share anything they don’t want to. Or can’t.”
“Exactly,” Gen whispered. “Just know we’re here for you. And we can see you’re struggling, so all you need to do is SOS—”
“And we’ll come running,” Lila finished. “That’s what friends are for.”
Nell’s eyes danced, and in an incredible, chills-inducing contralto, she started singing the refrain in the eighties ear worm by Dionne Warwick. “Keep smiling…”
Lila and Gen joined in, and soon Remy did too, the four of them spontaneously belting out the song and then breaking into tipsy laughter.
“Girl…you’ve got a set of pipes on you!” Lila marveled. “What other secrets are you keeping from us?”
Nell blushed furiously, every bit of her a bright pink. “None,” she squeaked.
Gen side-hugged her lifelong bestie, pressing an affectionate kiss to the side of Nell’s ginger hair that vied with her flushed cheeks for brightness. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Our girl here is crazy talented. She just doesn’t ever sing in public.”
“Gen,” Nell admonished on a pained whisper. “Don’t embellish.”
“I just speak the truth. And I will always be the first to sing your talents from the mountaintops. I mean”—Gen beamed a wicked grin—“‘That’s what friends are for…’”
“I love you guys.” Lila scanned the three other women with emotion. “I mean it. You’re…you’re just…really beautiful people. Thank you for being my friends.”
Gen snickered. “Now I wanna sing the theme to The Golden Girls.”
As semi-buzzed giggles filled the room, Remy pressed a fingertip to the corner of her eye, where a fresh wave of tears—happy ones—threatened to break free.
Deep in her core, a calm and certain part of Remy recognized she could trust them all. She quickly closed the windows—this was not something to be overheard by anyone—and turned to Gen. “Sebastian and I have an arrangement,” she began, and poured out her heart.