Page 139 of Finding Our Reality

Lulu stops dancing and straightens her shoulders. “Yes.”

“We haven’t officially met. I’m Marissa, Dr. Bussman’s new receptionist. I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s a little situation in the restroom.” She nods at a darkened hallway. “The servers’ restroom.”

“What situation?” I ask, not caring that she wasn’t speaking to me.

The girl steps closer, whispering. “It’s Kristie Vann. She’s asking for you.”

Lulu blinks. “What’s wrong? Is she injured?”

Marissa thins her lips and nervously rings her hands in front of her.

I growl in anger. “Is she drunk? High?”

Marissa looks down at the floor. “I… I really can’t say, sir.”

Well, that answers that.

Lulu does that singular nod. “Thank you for coming to me. We’ll promptly handle the issue. Perhaps it will be best if we keep this between us.” She awards Marissa with a fake smile.

Marissa nods, relief washing across her face. She’s clearly happy to pass the baton to someone else.

Placing my hand on Lulu’s back, we walk across the elaborate ballroom, making our way to the bathroom nestled in the back, next to the kitchen. At least Kristie isn’t making an ass of herself in the main restrooms where all of the guests are coming and going.

Lulu knocks on the closed door. “Kristie? It’s Ella.” She twists the handle, finding the door locked. “Open the door.”

Nothing happens.

I take a step back, fully prepared to shoulder my way through. Lulu gently lays a hand on my chest. “Kristie, I need for you to open the door. Otherwise, we’ll have to break it down. That will create a commotion, and Phillip will know about it. Is that what you want? Do you want your dad to know about whatever is happening here?”

After a few seconds, the handle jiggles and the door cracks open. I don’t give Lulu a chance to sneak in front of me; I walk in first. Who the hell knows what’s happening in this room, and I’ll be damned if I send my woman into harm’s way.

Well, this certainly is a shit storm.

The bathroom is a complete wreck. The paper towel dispenser has been ripped from the wall; pieces of drywall hang like cheese from a cheese grater. Her purse has been overturned, and the vanity is covered with her credit cards, dollar bills,lipsticks, and what looks like small, decorative pill cases. Apparently, she threw a flower vase in the corner of the room. Fresh flowers lay in a crumpled mess, and jagged shards of the blue pottery are scattered across the floor. It looks like Kristie cut her hand. Blood coats her knuckles and some of it is spread across the front of her yellow party dress—the yellow party dress that’s a little too muchpartyfor a function like this. The only thing still intact is the toilet and the martini glass sitting on the back of the toilet tank.

Lulu’s face crumples as she looks around the room. Her hand immediately flies to the back of her neck, rubbing her scar in worry. “Oh, Kristie. What did you do? What happened in here?”

For the first time, Kristie looks up. Her eyes are glassy and half-closed. She wobbles from side to side. “Nothing. I was just looking for something.”

I clench my jaw. “What? Your damn sanity?”

Lulu glares at me.

Kristie sighs and starts scratching the side of her face, smearing blood on her cheek. “I’m fine. I just had one too many martinis. The bartender is making them too strong. He thinks I’m cute, he’s just trying to get in my pants.”

Oh, please. Now it’s time for me to roll my eyes.

Lulu crosses the distance and pulls Kristie’s hands down to her side, trying to save her from looking like she got into a fight with a panther. Turning her hand over, she finds the bleeding cut and pulls her over to the sink, rinsing the blood down the drain. I grab some paper towels and Lulu wraps them tightly around Kristie’s hand, ordering her to hold them in place.

The ring on Lulu’s finger quickly catches Kristie’s attention. She grabs Lulu’s hand and holds it so close to her face it looks like she’s about to poke her own eye out. “Y’all got married?”

“Yes,” I quickly answer. Technically, no, but that’s just semantics.

She sniffles, wiping her runny nose with her free hand. “Good. That’s good.”

“Kristie,” Lulu says softly and sternly, drawing her attention, “why did you tear this room apart? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I told you I was looking for something.”

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