Page 89 of King

"Where’s your mom anyway?" I can't help but giggle and I'm relieved there's laughter in me. Thank you, Mary Jane.

He rummages through a metal case, his robe falling off his shoulders. "My real one? Or the millionaire diva who adopted me?"

Giggling again, I’m happy I’m laughing after the shit storm that has been the last few days. The last few weeks. Hell, my life has been a shit storm since the day my parents died, but Eden Gardens is on a whole other level.

"Quinfrey,” I clarify.

"Who knows." He opens up a gold container, taking a brush from the clear jar on the stone counter. "I'll see her at dinner like twice a month. Or if she has an event. She provides everything except her time, but I know my luck." Nate dusts some glitter along my cheeks and I take another puff. "I can't believe you’re working with the Kings."

“Was,” I clarify again. “And I can’t believe I almost fell for Damien.”

“You say that as if it’s the past,” Nate smirks, rummaging through his container for something else.

I snort, “Right? I’m so fucked up.” I let a smile sit on my face, even if the question makes me nervous. “Does Allie know?”

“I’m sure she does now.” Nate pushes my chin to the ceiling, stroking some purple dust on my lids. “You should talk to her. She didn’t mean anything by not telling you.”

I don’t even know why I’m holding a grudge when I’m angry at something else. Yeah, I'm disappointed in the lie, but I should at least hear her out. It's not her fault her brother’s a douche-bucket. Besides, I haven't been completely transparent either.

My phone buzzes next to me and I push the empty bottle of pinot to the side to reach it.

“Noooo,” Nate calls, his voice lazy. “My muse.”

I laugh, “One second.” The text on the screen jumps me out of my haze and my chest tightens.

Willow: Get home ASAP. Something’s going on. I’m scared.

“Fuck I gotta go,” I say, getting up. I tap Henry’s number on my phone.

“Everything okay?” Nate asks. “I’ll drive.”

I can’t help but laugh and the weed helps to quell the shock. “No. You won’t. Unless you don’t want me to get home alive. Willow’s in trouble.”

“Shit, okay." He takes the joint from me, outing it in the sink. "Go. Text me when you’re home.”

Henry’s swift with his pickup and I’m at the door of the Archibalds’ in about ten minutes.

When I open the door, three policemen greet me in the foyer. Nancy and Eric stand behind them in a sort of semi-circle.

“Well.” Nancy flaps her hands before she brings her thumb and index to the bridge of her nose. “Here she is.”

“Joelle Rowland?” One of the cops turns to look at me and I gulp. “We have a few questions we need to ask.”

Twenty-Five

Nancy and Eric’s eyes are on me and while I’m a nervous wreck on the inside, I’m holding my poker face.

“Joelle?” The officer approaches me with his hand out but I don’t take it.

“It’s Jo.”

He drops his arm. “I’m Detective Branson and today we arrested Isaac Johnson for a DUI.” He doesn’t look away from me as he talks but the more he says, the more I want to disappear into the ground. “We found an alarming amount of cocaine in Johnson's glove compartment. When questioned, he pointed me to you. Our records show an arrest for possession. Can I ask you some questions?”

“Are you kidding me?” Eric takes a step forward. “No. Not without a lawyer present.”

The officer looks at Eric then back at me. “Jo, this can be an easy Q and A or we can do it the hard way down at the station.”

“With all due respect officer,” Nancy pipes up. “I will not allow our foster daughter to receive questioning without a lawyer present now please, it’s late.”

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