Chapter 39 Roxy
Roxy
Well, if this doesn’t change everything.
I didn’t kill Sunny, Jamie did. Hallelujah.
I mean, sure, it’s still sad and horrible, and sure, she most likely ended up in the pool thanks to the margarita à la Roxy, but I wasn’t the one who stood there and watched as she drowned.
Relief washes over me, and as it does, I feel something else: a glimmer of myself returning.
And that feels fabulous. I need to find Ryan and tell him the news.
It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill Sunny after all.
“Well, this has been such an evening, and we haven’t even had dinner yet,” I say. “Shall I ring the bell and ask for the rest of the meal to be served?”
“You can’t seriously be hungry right now,” Beth says, staring at me accusingly. A tear spills from her eye and works its way down her cheek.
“Maybe not, but Amelia must be famished. You look anorexic, by the way,” I tell her. And she does. It’s been bothering me this entire weekend. I’m supposed to be the thinnest and the richest. Anyway, I digress.
“I’m not anorexic,” Amelia slurs as she manages to return to her seat. “Nice try, though. You’re still in the hot seat, Roxy, even if Jamie killed her.”
“Well, we’ll agree to disagree, as always. But the fact is you also should be relieved, Amelia. You might have lost your cash cow in me, but now you’ve got a new golden goose to extort.” I point to the only doctor in the house. Ironic that she killed someone.
“Why would Jamie pay me?” Amelia says. “Oh, because she didn’t save Sunny, and she doesn’t want anyone outside this room to know it. Gotcha.”
“Fortunately, she makes a fine living as a cardiologist, so she should be able to step into those monthly payments, no problem,” I say. Jamie lets out a small squeak but doesn’t try to protest.
Beth stands, hands on hips. “How can you talk like this, talk about Sunny like this? I never really knew any of you, did I? None of you are what you seem.”
Amelia smiles at Beth and holds up her wineglass. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, Beth? That’s the Theta Gamma Mu way. None of us are what we seem. Could you pour me some wine, dear?”
I smile at both of them. “Well, somehow Beth here comes across as the saint in all this, smelling like a rose as always. She’s always been exactly what she seemed,” I say. “Boring to the bitter end, but at least she isn’t a killer like Jamie.”
Beth’s face is blanched white, and she looks like she’s going to faint. She begins to speak, opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Clearly, she’s still processing the fresh shock of Jamie’s confession.
“Oh, fine,” Amelia says, standing. “I’ll get my own bloody refill.”
The only sound in the room is the gurgling of the wine pouring into the glass. Amelia walks back to the table, studying Jamie as she sits in her chair, head down.
“Here’s what I don’t understand, Jay,” Amelia says.
“Were you so uptight around Brett this weekend because you thought he’d recognize you from our college days?
I mean, that was a long time ago. But I guess you had to be worried he could, if he recognized you, expose your past drug use.
I guess that could be a problem for a doctor. ”
Jamie looks up at Amelia. I watch her face fall again.
“What is it?” I ask her. “What’s wrong now?”
Jamie tilts her head back, stares up at the ceiling, and then returns her gaze to Amelia. “I wasn’t worried about him recognizing me from back in college. I knew he would recognize me. Because he’s still my dealer. Or was.”