Page 26 of Mind

“And there’s not a moment to spare!” She nods happily, her pretty blonde hair bobbing right along with her. She’s dressed in a fierce black suit with a jewel toned satin blouse. The gold of her hair lies in perfect curls around her shoulders. I cringe and look down at my bare feet. The edges of my toenails have chipped paint and have seen better days. I need a pedicure, but can’t bring myself to worry about trivial things when my best friend is laid up in the hospital. “Now, I’ve got tons of things to run by you,” she starts by pulling open the first section and opening it to one of the tabs. I pad around the kitchen and pull out a coffee cup.

“Do you want coffee?” I ask.

“No, I’ve already had some.” She has? It’s seven thirty in the morning. How the hell can she be so damned chipper? “Now Gigi, look at these tablecloths and tell me which one you like best.”

Tablecloths. Is she fucking insane? Who cares about tablecloths? “You pick one.” I say and pull out my favorite mug. It’s one of the only things I’ve unpacked. It’s a fairy with giant expanded wings that Bree bought me for Christmas a few years ago. It’s been my staple mug ever since.

Her eyebrows rise and then she pinches her lips together. “Okay. What type of font do you want on the invitations? We should have sent them out two weeks ago but under the circumstances…” she means, because my best friend exploded, but has the good sense to not bring it up further.

“Don’t care about that either, Dana,” I warn. Tingles of irritation start to curl and slither along my spine. I can feel my inner temperature heating up.

She flips to the next section completely unfettered. “How about the ceremony? Let’s talk flowers. I know you like daisies, because Chase had me ensure the florist put them in the vases in the foyer and around his office, but what other flowers…” she starts speaking, but I tune her out. There have been perfect bundles of daisies in our foyer each week. It’s the first thing I see when I open the elevator and it’s so welcoming. Something I’ve come to look forward to. I also noticed that my office on the fiftieth floor has had a new batch of them each week and several more placed around our home. I can’t believe I’ve taken for granted something Chase did to make me happy and comfortable in this new environment.

The man owns my soul.

“…so do you want all daisies at the wedding or would something more traditional like roses be better?” she asks. A shiver runs through me.

“No roses. I hate roses!” My voice comes out scathing and downright mean.

Dana’s eyes widen, but she continues anyway. Wow. She could get work done in the middle of an earthquake and look perfect doing it. “Let’s talk food. Chase’s favorite is seafood, and I’m sure Cancun will have the freshest fish possible.”

“No seafood.”

“Sorry?” Her eyes narrow. “I really think you need to take advantage of the location, and the seafood will be so…”

I roll my eyes. “Look Dana, I know you’re trying to be nice, and you are…nice that is. I don’t care for seafood, and I don’t want to smell stinky fish on the best day of my life. We’re going to Mexico, why not have Mexican food?” I hold out my hands and realize I’ve been swinging them around like a deranged crazy person. Gripping the cool slab of marble at the counter top centers me, momentarily.

“Uh, I had no idea about the food. Chase didn’t mention that…” she scribbles something in the binder, circles it and then puts a giant slash through it.

Something she said spikes my interest. I grab my cup and calm my tone. “Have you been talking to Chase about the wedding?”

Dana shrugs and flips to another section of the book. “He likes to be informed of the decisions we’ve made. He’s not happy with how little we’ve gotten done. We’re really behind.”

I laugh and shake my head. Who can think about a wedding when so much in my life is up in the air? The iPhone I put in the back pocket of my jeans rings loudly. I hold up a pointed finger at Dana. “Just a moment.”

“Hello,” I turn around and lean my back against the counter on a sigh. What now?

“Gigi, he left a fucking note…here! I cannot believe this shit!” Bree is screaming and crying at the same time.

Gripping the phone tightly to my ear, “Whoa whoa, what are you talking about, Bree? Calm down.”

“I’m not going to fucking calm down! Your goddamned stalker did this to Phillip!” she roars, her tone so high-pitched I hold the phone back several inches so I don’t lose an eardrum.

“Bree, I don’t understand. What do you mean?” Fear locks its evil grip around my heart and squeezes as Bree explains.

I can hear shuffling and a door closing then the noises from the hospital. “I swear to God, Gillian, if he dies…” she lets her words fall off as she sucks in a breath. Her tone was something I’ve never heard from her. It’s gut-wrenching, filled with fire and ice and dipped in poison. Hatred. It’s what hatred sounds like. “I came into the room. I was late today and just got in. Right on the foot of the bed was a note. For you,” she seethes.

“What does it say?” I ask, tears clouding my vision. It’s my worst nightmare come to life.

Her voice cracks as she clears her throat. “It says…

Gillian,

Phillip was a blast. Too bad he made it.

Perhaps next time he won’t. Who’s next?

You’re mine…Bitch!

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