Chapter 9
Nine
Now
Wyatt
I throw open the door to my overpriced hideaway for the night and find my sisters sitting side by side on the couch, Becks chattering and Drea listening with a half smile. They both look up as I sarcastically gesture for CJ to lead the way into the room.
“Elf clown!” Becks cries happily.
“Who?” CJ looks around in confusion. “Me?” Then she catches her reflection in the full-length mirror. “Okay, yeah, I see it.”
She makes a move to walk toward it, but I grab her elbow again. “You. Talk.”
She pointedly looks down at my fingers, and I release her like she’s a fence that’s just become electrified.
Retreating to my favorite perch on the desk, I watch warily as she crosses the room to settle onto the floor next to her bag of tricks.
I refuse to notice what the act of sitting does to her already criminally short skirt.
“So.” She pulls the wig off and ignores my command. “You must be the famous sisters. Becks?” She glances at the blonde, then turns her attention to the brunette. “And Drea, right?”
Becks beams. Drea’s lips twitch fractionally upward.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” CJ says cheerfully. “I adore your brother.”
I must make some kind of noise because three pairs of eyes land on me.
“Ohhh, you mean Holly,” Becks says.
CJ scoffs. “Obviously.”
I definitely make a noise this time, and she flicks a dismissive finger in my direction. “There isn’t an adorable bone in that sad little man’s body.”
This pulls a rare smile from Drea. “That makes way more sense. We all know Wy’s got no game.”
“No game at all,” Becks says solemnly.
I groan and drop my head in my hands as CJ starts pulling an army of pins from her hair.
“Blisssssss,” she croons, unraveling the braid and digging her hands into the dark mass to shake it out. “Jonesy got all the game and left none for his big bro. Such a tragedy.”
“His name is Hollis. And as fun as these comparisons are,” I say to my sisters through clenched teeth, “we need the room. Get out.”
“We need the room,” CJ repeats in a gruff voice as she rummages through her bag. “Get out. And please, everybody in town calls him Jonesy.”
Becks, the traitor, laughs while CJ does some kind of complicated hair flip and starts brushing it while upside down, looking up at me from between the long waves.
“You can’t kick them out, Wyatt. We both bribed our way in here fair and square, and I’m inviting them to stay.
” After a glare to make sure I’m not going to argue, she resumes her long strokes.
“So why don’t you tell me what you’re doing tonight. ”
I hesitate, not sure I should lay everything out until I know what she’s up to too.
“I think,” I begin slowly, “that I’m doing the same thing you are.”
“And what’s that?” She blinks up at me, all sweetness and light, but I’m not fooled for a second.
“Let’s see…” I tick my list off on my fingers as I talk.
“Between the two of us, there’s a polka band out there butchering ‘Santa, Baby,’ you’re in the kitchen tampering with the food, everyone but the VIPs are arriving late thanks to Liv’s invitations, the only thing to drink is Rumple Minze, a bunch of chickens are about to be released into the ballroom, and Howard’s table smells like an old gym bag somebody used to transport swamp water.
That last one has CJ written all over it. ”
“Aww, you recognized my signature scent.” She flips her head upright and slaps a hand to her chest. “So the tuba and gross alcohol and waterfowl are you, right? You’re torturing Howard with the literal twelve days of Christmas?”
I shoot her my smuggest smile. “And there’s so much more to come.”
“Because…” She raises her brows and waits.
I inhale courage and exhale a confession. “Because I’m taking Howard down.”
Okay. It’s out there. And CJ immediately joins me.
“Same,” she says. “Because I want his IPO to fail.”
I’m surprised she offered that much, and now I’m curious if this is simple payback or if she knows more than she’s letting on.
“Any other reason?” I ask, our gazes still locked, as if one of us is waiting for the other to crack and say it first. But she missed so much during that first audit, I doubt she’ll have uncovered what I have.
“You mean the fact that ol’ Howie’s dirty as hell and stealing from your clients?”
Okay then. The air between us thickens with the weight of our history as I say, “Yes. That.”
“Boooommmmmm,” Drea breathes, and to be honest, I forgot the girls were still here.
Apparently CJ did too because she’s slow to pull her gaze away from me. When she does, she sees two teenagers watching our back-and-forth like it’s a Ping-Pong match.
“Can we go back to the food thing for a sec?” Becks asks. “Because I’m allergic to sardines.”
CJ laughs. “No sardines. But Chef Samson has created a hot pepper menu for one.”
A bark of laughter escapes my lips, and I want to claw it back when all three women look at me in surprise.
“It’s not that weird to hear me laughing,” I mumble, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“Agree to disagree.” CJ sounds almost sad when she says it, and I wonder if she’s thinking about how much I laughed the night we met. Then she turns back to the girls. “Ignore your grumpy brother so you can revel in my genius.”
They nod eagerly, and CJ launches into an explanation.
“So the thing in peppers that makes your mouth burn is capsaicin. It’s not really a burn, though. It tricks your brain into thinking it is, but it actually causes inflammation in your mouth’s heat receptors.”
Becks sticks out her tongue and looks at it cross-eyed, and CJ laughs. “I don’t think they’re visible to the naked eye, but I do know that Howard’s will be very inflamed by the end of the night.”
She flips her hair over one shoulder and starts to rebraid it.
“So I’m sprinkling dehydrated superhot peppers onto a few hors d’oeuvres and adding hot pepper slices to a few others.
Samson recommended ones with a delayed heat release, so it’ll hit gradually.
Oh, and the slower Howard chews, the more he breaks down the pepper seeds and the more pain he’s in.
” She smirks. “Samson’s serving some extra chewy food tonight. ”
Becks’s mouth drops in delighted shock. “So he’ll just be chewing away and spreading…?”
“Capsaicin,” I say just to make sure they haven’t forgotten I exist.
My beloved sister doesn’t even glance at me, she’s so focused on her new hero. “So he’ll just be spreading that all over his mouth?”
“Yep!” CJ says cheerfully. “We’re keeping the amounts small, frequent, and not in every single dish.”
“Lulling him into a false sense of security,” Drea says. “Nice.”
The three of them cackle like they’re about to stir a cauldron full of chicken broth, death peppers, and the bones of their enemies.
“You are all terrifying,” I inform them.
“Thank you!” CJ says. “And yes, I was prepared to let you eat a crab puff with pepper dust just now, and I’ll do it again.”
To soothe myself, I imagine her being pecked to death by one of my geese, but Becks can’t get enough.
“Oh my god, tell me more.” She kicks her feet like a little kid. “I need detailsssssss.”
“They learn so fast. I couldn’t be prouder.
” CJ pretends to wipe away a tear, ignoring my muttered request to stop encouraging her.
“Here’s a tidbit, my blonde friend: Howard’s stir-fried kabobs will feature Trinidad scorpion peppers.
Super slow release and Samson’s adding them to the oil in the last thirty seconds to keep from diluting the capsaicin in the oil. ”
“Next you’re going to tell me that dessert is just a chocolate-covered Carolina Reaper,” I grumble.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” CJ hops to her feet and brushes off the backs of her thighs, causing the veins in my temple to throb. “It’s a flourless Mexican chocolate cake dusted with more dehydrated superhot peppers. And to top it all off—”
“How is there more?” I ask, but everyone ignores me.
“As Howard’s mouth catches on fire and makes him want to die, he’s going to ask for something to drink.
Alcohol makes the burn worse, so the Rumple Minze isn’t going to help.
” CJ inclines her head at me, finally acknowledging my sabotage efforts.
“But cold water? That’s the magic. It’ll just slosh the capsaicin around his already burning mouth.
So we need to make sure every server has a nice glass of ice water on hand when he asks for it. ”
Drea snorts from her slumped position on the couch.
“Come on, everybody knows to drink milk if you’re doing a hot wing challenge.
” She nudges Becks. “Remember when Holly got his picture on the wall of Bugsy’s Tavern for eating, like, twenty pounds of hot wings?
He basically dunked his head into a full gallon of milk afterward. ”
“God, that was gross.” Becks shudders.
“It was,” I agree. “But I once watched Howard order plain rice at a Thai restaurant because it was the only thing on the menu he was willing to eat, and he still complained that it was too ‘ethnic.’”
I deploy the air quotes Darby was using against me earlier, and CJ rolls her eyes as hard as I do.
“So he has no idea what to do with spicy food,” she says.
“And not only will he want to throw himself into a snowbank tongue first, but it’s the perfect gaslighting situation.
Nobody else’s food will be this hot, so they’re going to think he’s overreacting to a tiny bit of spice.
” She stands and bows to her audience. “And that, my friends, is how you drive away potential investors.”
And after a moment of silence, Becks starts a slow golf clap that Drea briefly joins.
“That’s so evil,” my blonde sister says. “I love it.”
Drea frowns. “Isn’t Howard going to notice when it’s always the clown elf bringing him torture food?”
“Yeah.” CJ fingers the end of her braid. “That’s the flaw in the plan.”
Becks and Drea exchange a glance, then say, “We’ll do it.”