Page 97 of Felonies are Forever

She doesn’t let me finish before going on. “Obviously, you’re going to be here for lunch. I think it would be a good idea for you to apologize to Larry.”

“For what?” I seethe.

“For your behavior the other night. It was totally inappropriate, draping yourself all over Scotch like that and lunging at him. Kisses like that are not for family, young lady.”

“Actually, if you must know—”

“Larry was horrified,” she goes on, as if I care what Larry thinks and I’m pretty sure Larry could give one ripe shit about anything but Larry. “You know that kiss was all the staff were talking about afterwards?”

“Aww. The strippers? I’m surprised they could talk at all with their mouths full of—”

“Scotch was just being polite. You need to apologize. This isn’t how I wanted to start my marriage, embarrassed by mydaughter throwing herself at her new stepbrother. I’m trying to make something here, for me and for you, Lula Belle.”

I put a hand to my forehead, trying to massage away the hurricane of a headache that’s swirling. I could tell her exactly how polite Scotch was, but the thought of her horror over what we did is too much for even me. I need to get back inside. I need to pull Mick away from my dad and see if he can get the scale working before tomorrow morning, at least within a degree of accuracy I might be able to persuade the inspector we didn’t know was a fault. I need to figure out how we’re going to pay off the loan. And damn it I don’t want to miss lunch with Scotch.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Fine. You’re right, Mom. I’ll apologize to Larry.”

“Good,” she says, and I can almost hear the satisfied grin cracking her perfect makeup. “You know I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Mom,” I say through gritted teeth. I love her, but sometimes… “I’ve gotta go…”

I let out a deep sigh, just hoping this day doesn’t get any worse.

EIGHT

Scotch

“Yeah. Good lunch,”I remark dryly, looking around the dark paneling covered with oil paintings of old white guys, wondering if maybe my father is on the down low after all.

He bought this monster of an old Tudor when I was still living with Mom. He basically stole it from a business partner who wasn’t good at reading fine print. He put this house in the contract as collateral but what Dad put in was a clause that in essence, ruined the business and the house went to pay off the debts. The house was worth more than the business or the assets.

Who was one of the biggest investors? Yeah, one of my dad’s other companies who then, surprise, took the house.

He’s shrewd and a sociopath.

The whole meal has been a disaster with Lula’s mom making her take the brunt of responsibility for us kissing on the dance floor the other night.

I came to her defense, but Deidre was cotton candy sweet to me.

Who the fuck cares? When she basically strong armed her into apologizing to Larry who could give a shit, I nearly came out of my chair.

The latest cook he hired comes in to clear our plates and I can’t sit here another second. Lula’s been sitting across from me trying to be polite, wearing this sexy as fuck sky blue dress that matches her eyes. It’s snug on top, showing off her hard nipples through the fabric and loose enough on the bottom I’m going to have no problem getting under there where I better find no panties.

After she finally clicked off the call last night in her sleep, I texted her about a hundred times. One of them was telling her no panties at lunch.

Glancing my way now and then making out like what happened at the club was just an act we put on.

Fucking act is right. An act I’m going to follow up every day for the rest of my fucking life. I just need to get things settled with Larry, separate out our business entanglements and find my own way. A new way. A way that doesn’t include a trail of destruction behind me.

“It’s so nice to have you here.” Deidre smiles at me. “I want us to be a family.”

Family. Does she even know the man that she married?

“Yeah, well, then I want to show Lula what the family home is like. Dad…” He shoots me an odd look because I’ve not called him Dad for years. “Lula’s never seen a house quite like this. I want to give her the grand tour. Show her what hard work can do.”

“Good idea,” he says, smug and arrogant. “Show her the Rembrandt.”

“Sure will.” I nod toward Lula, who thanks Larry and nods at her mother as she follows me out of the dining room and intothe hallway where I grab her hand and press her against the wall, crushing my lips to hers.

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