Page 102 of Bad Luck Club

And since Dottie was right much more often than she was wrong, Blue joined her.

Dottie gave the cab driver instructions to an Upper East Side bar, and then turned to Blue, who was gaping at her.

“I don’t like worrying about my grandchildren,” she said. “I prefer to leave my methods somewhat…mysterious, but I’ve activated the friend-finding feature on all of their phones.”

“Thank God,” Blue gasped out. Then the relief and worry and anger and fear overflowed, and she burst out crying.

It took a while for her to cry it out. The well had felt like it would never be emptied, but finally it was, and Dottie held her and patted her back and offered silent support. Then, when her crying finally eased, she told Dottie everything.

Dottie nodded at all the right places, acting convincingly unsurprised. “You see,” she said, “I knew this job wasn’t right for him. I knew it wasn’t meant to be.”

“What am I going to do?” Blue asked at last, feeling helpless. Feeling like the bottom had caved in.

“You are going to go in there and tell that vile man exactly what you think of him and his little tricks. You are going to make him understand, in no uncertain terms, that he is never to insert himself into your life again. You handle him, my dear, and I will handle our Lee. We’ll want to get him out of there as soon as possible.” Dottie bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically nervous as they passed another block, only three now separating them from the bar. “This won’t be good for his ego.”

A worried silence settled between them, because they both knew Lee’s ego had already been shattered.

“No, it won’t,” she agreed, worry tightening its hold on her. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”

She’d been hoping for one of Dottie’s reassurances, for one of her statements of absolute certainty.

But Dottie’s mouth just pressed into a grim line, and she took a handkerchief from her purse and wiped Blue’s cheeks before grabbing her hand and holding on tightly.

“We’re going into battle for our Lee, Blue. And something tells me this won’t be the only one tonight.”

That wasn’t reassuring. In fact, she wasn’t sure what it meant, but she didn’t have time to press her. They’d reached the bar.

Blue paid for the cab, and they got out. It wasn’t until they reached the door that Blue realized they were still hand in hand, but when she tried to let go, Dottie clung on, and she was grateful for it.

“This is your chance, Blue,” Dottie said. “Don’t let that man in there think that he has any power over you. You let him know this is the end of the line. If he tries anything else, you won’t be the only one to come after him. He’ll have to deal with all of the Buchanans. No one comes after one of us without facing all of us.”

Hearing Dottie say that, hearing her lay claim to her, put a knot in Blue’s throat, partly because she worried she was about to lose everything. That she’d found a man who fit her in all the ways that mattered and his dear, wonderful family, and Remy might still manage to rip them away from her.

But the anger reared back up at that, thicker and stronger and more powerful than ever before, and she opened the door with purpose.

They’d dressed for the show, Blue in a blue silk A-line dress and a pair of boho heels she’d found at a store in Asheville, and Dottie in a black floor-length dress, her pink hair in a loose chignon. It was a fancy bar, the kind that didn’t have price tags on the menu, but no one gave them strange looks, except for one man who looked down at their linked hands as if considering whether they were in a May-December romance.

Blue spotted him instantly. Lee was looking at his watch with something like desperation in his eyes. He was at a booth, although he’d been given the chair next to it, a slightly short one, as if he were a child allowed to attend his parents’ dinner party.

All of that, surely, had been calculated.

Even at a glance, Lee’s energy seemed off. She exchanged a look with Dottie, who nodded resolutely, as if she’d seen the same thing.

Someone leaned in a little toward Lee, catching his attention, and she recognized the back of Remy’s head. His hair, salt-and-pepper, perfectly trimmed, his chin tilted a little higher than most people’s, so he could remind everyone, always, of their place.

Oh, she was going to put him in his place, all right.

She recognized one of the men across from Remy as the manager of his New York office. The other was a stranger.

She didn’t care.

She wasn’t going to let Lee take a job where he would be under Remy’s control. Not even if it cost her their relationship. Not even if it cost her everything.

She and Dottie marched forward with purpose, and Lee’s gaze shifted to her as they barreled toward him, his eyes first registering pleased surprise—joy at seeing them—and then confusion.

“Blue…Dottie,” he breathed out, “what are you doing here?”

As they reached the table, Remy slid out of the booth, turning toward her.

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