Chapter 26
Melody
Black and gold “BCB” buttons with little fleur de lis are all over the French Quarter and in the specialty shops and at the cash registers in liquor stores.
People are walking around the streets with BCB painted on their cheeks in black and gold.
You can’t throw a plastic doubloon without hitting someone supporting my man.
I also see several “F-U, Chet-n-Sue” shirts, and while they look sort of homemade, I’m tempted to ask where they got them. I’d like to invest in a whole box for me and all my friends—and possibly Knox’s cousins as well. From what I’ve heard, I’m sure they’d wear them.
The Carnival Cruise ship docked yesterday morning, and I’ve been pacing in front of my laptop, waiting to hear from Stacia ever since.
One of the sports pod influencers picked up my plea for help and amplified it on her channel. After that, things really went viral.
Stacia’s been out to sea, but I’m crossing every finger and toe and praying she’s seeing all this. I’m praying the obviously flustered receptionist gives her my message.
Another day passes, and I’ve just about given up hope when my phone screen lights with a text.
Maybe Stacia
Is this Melody Dunne? The Quarterback Princess? I’m Stacia Smith. I got a message you were looking for me?
Melody
Yes! OMG, thank you so much for texting me! Knox Bradford is a good friend of mine, and he could really use your help right now if you’re up for it. It’s kind of a long story, but if you don’t mind meeting with me, I’d be happy to explain it all to you. I could buy you a cafe au lait?
I wait, chewing the side of my nail, saving her contact info, and praying she’ll say yes.
Stacia
Sure—I’m glad to help Knox! Come by my apartment this afternoon, and let’s chat!
I huff a laugh and almost cry at her reply. I quickly reply I’ll be there.
Three hours later, I’m standing outside the wrought-iron gate guarding the address she sent me, hoping she wasn’t high on cruise life when she sent that text, because I’ve been knocking, and nobody’s answering the door.
Come on, Fireside Ladies…
I can’t believe I’m praying to dead witches to help me get Knox’s baby back.
I stopped believing in “The palm is sacred” years ago, when I lost my eighth-grade boyfriend to that bitch Ruthie Reynolds.
I don’t care if my aunt Sly is determined they brought my parents back together.
They have never showed up when I needed them.
I hit the buzzer one more time, ready to walk away in defeat when the gate unlocks. I jump and run back to the entrance as a voice speaks through the box on the ancient, red-brick wall.
“Sorry!” Stacia’s gravelly voice comes through the intercom. “I’ve been sleeping all day.”
I push the white button. “No worries—coming up!”
Then I run up the red-brick stairs to do my best to convince our star witness to help us. She answers the door dressed in a long-sleeved black “Groove for St. Jude” shirt with hot pink lettering and hot pink terrycloth shorts.
Her long hair is tied up on top of her head in a messy bun, and mascara is smudged around her half-closed eyes when she lets me through the door. “Girl, have you ever been on a three-day cruise?”
“No.” I exhale a nervous laugh.
“It’s like a seventy-two hour party.” She scoops coffee grounds into a cone-shaped plastic cup with a flat bottom, which she sets on top of a mug and pours boiling water through. “I need a B-12 shot.”
“Sounds like some party!” I try to keep my tone optimistic.
She’s got to say yes to driving to Little Rock with us. I’ll find her a B-12 shot. I’ll find her any shots she wants, if only she says yes.
“You have no idea how wild thirty-five cheerleaders get on a boat.” She moves the plastic cone off her mug and takes a big sip of black coffee, then she exhales a grunt, does a shiver, and blinks her eyes wide at me. “Whoot! That’ll do it. Now, talk to me about this Knox situation.”
I take a deep breath, blinking my eyes, and doing my best to infuse my tone with positivity… as I launch into the story.
* * *
“Does this Jada person know we’re coming?” Stacia is dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and slim black pants.
Her pale blonde hair is pulled back in a low, sleek ponytail and dark sunglasses sit on her nose.
We’re thirty thousand feet above the earth, strapped into buttery tan-leather seats flying from New Orleans to Little Rock on Spencer’s private jet.
Our ETA is 10 am, and I’m leaning forward as if I’ll make the small plane get there faster.
I called Knox this morning to tell him what we’re doing. I couldn’t go another day without hearing his voice. He said he’d had a bit of a party last night, not knowing he’s meeting today via Zoom with his aunt Liv and the lawyer representing Jada this afternoon.
He still sounded ready, and I know we’re both operating on a lot of adrenaline right now.
My hope is we’ll appeal to Jada’s sentimentality this morning, and by this afternoon, he won’t even need that meeting. That’s my hope anyway. I’m leaving the rest to Coco and Lindsey and the Fireside Ladies.
“I reached out to Miss Allen as a representative of a friend of Christine’s mother,” Spencer says.
I squint one eye shut, replaying what he just said. “You’re representing Stacia?”
“Yes, that’s the plan, and she agreed to meet with us.” He’s wearing a crisp tan suit, and he falls somewhere between the stern businessman he is at work and the serious fellow who meets the public at antiques shows.
Although, Mom has often commented that he could be more approachable at those events. A notion he instantly dismisses.
“Then I’ll just tell her what Bonnie told me?” Stacia slides her large, dark sunglasses higher up her nose, and I hope she’s feeling better this morning.
“Yes.” Spencer’s tone is all business.
“You think that will do it?” Stacia looks from him to me.
“Lord, I hope so.” My voice is quiet, and I smile.
“Either way, I’m prepared to handle her on whatever terms she requires.”
My lips tighten, and I glance at Spencer then at Stacia. Her brows rise, and she puckers her lips, but she nods like she’s onboard.
I look down at my hands clasped in my lap. I know Spencer means he’s ready to hand over a wad of cash if it’ll get Cricket back in our arms, but I still want to believe Jada isn’t after a payout. I want to believe she cares about her family.
Lake Conway is a half-hour drive from Little Rock. We’re surrounded by tall trees. Stacia is on her phone in the backseat, and mine lights up.
K-Brad
Getting ready for the hearing. Glad I switched to water last night and downed a bunch of chicken wings… But tbh, I wish I had a shot right now.
Melody
You’ll do great! Your feelings about Cricket are so clear, just be yourself.
K-Brad
I’m fucking nervous as shit.
Melody
Don’t say any of that to the lawyer
K-Brad
Don’t worry. Getting it all out now.
Melody
You got this, K-Brad. Take the checkdown.
K-Brad
I have passed the ball to Aunt Liv.
Melody
Good work. Sending good vibes.
“We’re here.” Spencer’s voice is low, and I look up to see we’re stopped in front of a small, wood-sided house.
It’s narrow and painted a bright green with brick-red accents. “It’s a skinny house.”
“Looks like a rental.” Spencer glances over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.” Stacia trades her ultra-dark shades for a pair of cat-eye glasses. “Let’s get that baby!”
“Should I stay in the car?” I look nervously across the car to my uncle. “What if she sees me and gets spooked.”
Spencer hesitates, thinking. “Perhaps stand on my other side. I don’t want her to feel surprised at all.”
My hands tremble, and my lungs don’t want to work properly. I try to control my breathing as we approach the small house, climbing the short flight of wooden steps to the front door.
“Calm, professional, friendly,” Spencer says under his breath as he knocks firmly on the door.
Stacia and I nod, and she presses her lips into a smile. I can see immediately why she makes a good cheerleader. I think I’d believe whatever she said with that face.
“Who is it?” Jada’s voice is sharp on the other side of the door.
“Miss Allen? It’s Spencer Carrollton. I’m here with a friend of your late cousin. May we speak with you?”
Everything falls quiet for a beat, then I hear the sound of a baby crying, and my throat clogs. My wide eyes fly to Spencer’s, and he holds up a hand for me to stay calm. I rub my fingers over my throat, trying to ease the pain there.
Finally, the door opens slowly, and when I see Jada, I’m struck by how much she reminds me of Knox that very first night I showed up at his apartment. The night I went over to demand he talk to me, only to find him covered in baby poop and melting down.
“What do you want?” Her hair sticks out on one side like something dried in it, and her clothes are disheveled. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a few nights.
“Jada?” Stacia steps forward, extending her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I was one of Jules’s closest friends. I knew her as Bonnie.”
Jada’s brow furrows, and her eyes scan Stacia up and down before seeming to relax. “She thought that sounded more like a cheerleader’s name.”
“Right!” Stacia smiles bigger. “She was such a fun person. We went to cheer camp together every summer, and she was with me when I made the New Orleans Saints’ Cheer Krewe.”
Stacia looks over at Spencer, then her eyes land on mine.
“You…” She takes a step back. “You’re one of those fake journalists.”
“I’m so sorry, Jada,” I say quickly, holding up my hand. “I had no idea Chet and Susan were going to do that. I was as surprised by the whole thing as you were.”
“You’re bad people, and my baby cousin shouldn’t be in that kind of environment. Jules wouldn’t want it.” She steps to the side as if she’ll close the door in our faces.
But Stacia steps forward before she can. “I know what your cousin wanted for Cricket.”
Jada’s eyes narrow. “How? You’re with them, which means this is probably another trick.”
A cry sounds in the room behind her, and my heart hurts. It’s Cricket. I recognize her voice.