Page 95 of Red Hot Harmony

“What did you talk about? What time?”

Jules was the only one standing and she took a step toward her daughter, probably noticing how aggressive Camille’s expression suddenly was.

“Nothing important. Just that you two had a fight and she…” Pauline paused and shot her mother a glance.

Jules nodded.

The girl took a deep breath and went on. “She said she hated you and that you were worse than Hitler.”

That sort of shut everyone up for a good minute.

Jules was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence. “I’m sure Ally was just upset. You know how teenagers are.”

Camille’s gaze dropped to the carpet. I stole a glance and saw a muscle in her jaw move as she remained quiet.

“Did Ally mention anything to you about running away from home?” I took over the questioning.

Pauline shrugged. “I know she said she likes staying at her godfather’s place because he isn’t such a bitch.”

“Language, young lady,” Jules snapped.

Oh, poor mother. She had no idea how much adult vocabulary teens really used. Again, I was the prime example.

“What?” The girl rolled her eyes. “Her words, not mine.”

“Do you know where she could have gone?” I asked.

“Not really.”

“Can you think, Pauline?” Camille finally found her voice. “Does she have any other friends? What about the person who tattooed her?”

At that, Jules almost jumped. “Tattoo?” Her jaw slacked because she didn’t seem to have a good grasp on what was going on anymore.

“Storm?” Her daughter did the eyerolling thingy again. “He’s in Florida right now. He left two days ago.”

“Who the hell is Storm?” Jules fumed. “Why don’t I know anything about him?”

“He’s just a tattoo artist. He’s Trent’s friend. Not mine.”

“Is there anyone else Ally talks to?” I shot another question, trying to stay on topic. “That guy of hers?”

Now Camille was the one whose expression was turning into something between a resting bitch face and someone having a full-on panic attack. She pinned me with her gaze but had enough self-control not to blow up in the middle of someone else’s living room.

Pauline’s features went visibly pale. “There’s no guy.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, darlin’. I know there’s a guy.”

Another furious glance from Camille.

“There’s no guy,” the girl insisted.

“There is. She told me so herself.” I schooled my tone, no longer wanting to tiptoe around this kid on eggshells. “I need you to tell us everything you know.”

Pauline made a huffing sound like it was too much for her to keep all these secrets now. “She’s been talking to Braden.”

“Okay, go on.” My not-so-distant breakfast conversation with Ally resurfaced. Braden was in a band. That much I remembered. I’d hoped my opinion would sway her at least a little bit, but, apparently, telling a teen girl that we were pigs didn't account for much. She still clung to this douchebag. Whoever he was.

“He’s Trent’s friend,” Pauline explained, now looking uncomfortable, as if it physically pained her to spill her friend’s secrets.

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