Page 102 of Savage Daddies

“Sounds and smells like a public stunt to me. How much money does this family need?”—Angela, Indiana

“It makes me laugh that the writer left out the best part. Didn’t Zoe say that Felix was going to kill her younger sister, Fiona? I was there this afternoon when it happened”—Sara, Nevada.

In response to Sara:“Yes, girl, so was I, and it’s clearly bullshit. Felix wouldn’t say that. He’s in the process of setting up Nevada’s first school for orphans, FFS. It’s all cap, and Zoe only said it because she knew the cameras were present. Clearly, she’s been fucking these other men, and is trying to sway attention away from herself. Quit trying to get likes on your comment, and take your conspiracies elsewhere. It’s embarrassing”—Robina, Nevada.

That starts a message thread.

“Embarrassing? Says the one who’s just come back with an entire paragraph. Felix is a prime example of patriarchy. Can’t you see that Zoe is oppressed?”—Sara, Nevada.

I scroll some more.

“There’s bigger fish to fry.”—Ruban, Kentucky.

“This is so mediocre. Another rich girl upset about the world shechoseto enter.”—Harper, Nevada.

I toss away the phone and stare at the white walls in front of me instead.

Bullwhip and Poet observe two other photographs that collect dust on the windowsill, so I decide to be nosy myself. Zoe is in these, and she stands beside Felix, hair all done up, pouting at the camera with red lips to match the strip of carpet beneath them.

“I have another one on Friday,” she says. “Some wine tasting networking event, I don’t know. They just dress me up nice and escort me into a car.”

I turn around and see she’s had a wardrobe change. She wears jeans—Levi’s—and a plain white tank top hugs her hourglass figure, cinching her waist. She looks natural. Much better like this, especially without all of that goddamn makeup that failed to hide how devastated she’s looked this entire day.

“Fiona’s not here,” she says.

I walk over to her and bring her into a hug, and her tears soak my shirt.

“We’ll find her.”

That’s rich coming from Bully. A mute has spoken more words than him today.

Wrangler and I turn around.

“How?” Wrangler asks.

“I’m not sure yet, but we never fail.” Hesitantly, Bullwhip takes a seat and looks at us. “There’s something you should know.”

Wrangler and I share a look.

Bullwhip continues, “He wants to monetize the casino scene in Vegas.”

“Take over?” Zoe pauses her crying for a moment.

I don’t know why she’s shocked, to be honest. He’s always been a power-hungry hound—looks like one too.

“You mean, own every single casino in Vegas?” she asks.

Bullwhip nods stiffly. “There’s something else,” he adds. “He also….asked me to join him.”

“What?” Poet sticks his hands on his hips. “Why would he ask that?”

“To trick you, maybe?” I ask.

Bullwhip stares long and hard at me, like he’s finding the answer to his own question in my eyes. “Probably, yeah.”

“And you said no?” Poet pushes.

“I asked him for bathroom directions.”

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