Page 12 of Happily Never After

Being around Brianna was like standing next to a ray of pure, comforting sunlight. Everything about her exuded life. Her skin glowed, her blue eyes sparkled, and she was tan despite it being mid-April. Her flip-flops, discarded by the door, were from Target. She flung her no-name purse on the back of a chair. Her chestnut-colored hair was drawn back into a simple ponytail,and she didn’t have a stitch of makeup on. And still she was radiant. That bitch.

Dinner passed without incident, except for Rosie leaping onto an unoccupied chair and running off with a piece of garlic bread.

After finishing his spaghetti, Jack laid his fork down and cleared his throat.

“Claire, there is some family business we need to discuss.”

Crash. All four of them jumped when Claire’s fork fell out of her hand. She surveyed the scene and found red droplets littering the front of her sweater. Great, she had ruined her cashmere sweater.

“Daddy,” Brianna warned.

Tanya, who had deigned to put on one of her iconic flowered muumuus for dinner, reached over and clutched her daughter’s hand.

“Oh god, what is it? Are you sick?” Claire’s hands clenched into tight fists. The blood chilled in her veins.

Jack shook his head. “No one is sick. Brianna, would you like to start?”

Brianna glared at her father and turned to Claire. “You know that new movie I wrapped up in the fall?”

“Private Sarah? With the badass lady soldier who joined the Union Army and dragged a ton of men off the field and saved their lives?”

“Yes. The premiere is scheduled for next month, and it’s getting some attention that we didn’t expect,” Brianna said.

“What do you mean?”

“Attention from ESA,” Jack interjected.

Claire froze. The napkin slid from her lap and puddled on the floor. Rosie scampered over and lay on top of it.

“You’re being targeted?” The words felt like ice chips.

“Targeted might be too strong a word.” Brianna smiled and flicked her ponytail over one shoulder, but the candles on the table quivered from her foot tapping on the floor.

“Threatening notes were sent to her fan mail PO Box,” Jack said quietly.

“Bri.” Tears welled in Claire’s eyes. Was the room tilting? Her clammy hands fisted as she braced for impact.

“I’m not worried about it.” Brianna reached over and grasped Claire’s limp arm. “People send me threatening fan mail all the time. Just last week someone told me I was going to hell because of that scene inDumb Summerwhere I ate a steak with my hands on a boat.”

“I was hoping you could talk some sense into your sister,” Jack interrupted, looking at Claire. “She refuses to get a bodyguard.”

Brianna’s cheeks flamed. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“What did the note say?” Claire interrupted. “Are you sure it was from ESA?”

“Women don’t belong on a battlefield. Kill the movie before you end up like your sister,” Jack quoted apparently from memory.

A shiver racked Claire’s body.

“I’m not killing the movie,” Brianna said, stacking her plate on top of her father’s and taking them to the sink. “It’s a powerful story that deserves to be told. I’m not going to let some dummies intimidate me.”

“It was a Los Angeles postmark, so it’s not any branch of ESA we’ve dealt with so far,” Jack said quietly.

“Can the FBI do anything?” Claire asked. The initial shock had worn off.

“My task force is investigating, but I’m not convinced we’ll find anything.” He rubbed the spot where an ESA brother hadshot him the previous summer. “There are four million people in that city. It would take a miracle to track down the sender.”

Claire pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. “Great. I’m glad our tax dollars are being wisely spent.” Whatever energy she had before she came had been zapped by this conversation.

---