Page 1 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail

INDIA || one-and-a-half weeks ago

“No, Lulu,”I say as the shaggy dog next to me tries to wiggle away. “No—wait—come back!”

Lulu does not listen. She is not interested in my desperate attempt to cuddle. She knows there are treats on the counter of our washroom, and that’s where her attention is directed.

Lulu isn’t actually here for a wash, although we do offer washes at Pampered Pup. I’m giving her a trim, which she badly needs. But I’ve been in a weird funk lately, and I thought a puppy hug might help.

I guess not.

I should get a pet. It’s absurd that I don’t have a dog or a cat or even something tiny and cute, like a fish. A little creature I can love and make kissy faces at when I’m feeling grumpy for no reason at all.

I hate being in a bad mood. Even more than that, though, I hate being in a bad mood without knowing why. I’m not PMSing; everything is fine at work and in my social life. My family is all good.

It’s just me. I’m the problem today, and it makes me feel like a mean little rain cloud, raining on everyone else’s parade.

I need to get it together.

“Let me love you, Lulu,” I say sadly as she goes up on her hind legs, trying to sniff around at the stuff on the counter.

But Lulu isn’t mine to love, and I’m being pathetic. So I give my face a few sharp pats and then do my best to snap out of it.

I go through the rest of my work day normally, despite the feeling that’s been growing inside of me—something restless and discontented. Nothing is wrong in my life. But nothing ishappening, either. And I don’t know why, but that thought makes me…antsy. It’s a weird tangle of emotions growing in my chest, and I don’t know what to do with it, or how to make it go away.

I do, however, have access to a surefire pick-me-up.

So when I get home, I change clothes. Then I head downstairs. “I’m going for a ride,” I call over my shoulder to Juliet, my younger sister.

“Be safe! Make good choices!” she responds from the living room, and I grin.

“Thanks, Mom.” Then I go out to the garage, where my baby lives.

Betsy, my little motorcycle. I get my helmet on and then wheel her down the driveway, swinging my leg over when we get to the street—and we’re off.

If there’s one place I can outrun my bad moods, it’s on Betsy. Normally I’d go for a jog, but today calls for something more. So I head down one of my favorite back roads, losing myself in the rumble of the bike beneath me, the world rushing by—the complete freedom.

But maybe I lose myself too much. Or maybe a road that’s usually blocked off is back in use today—because a car comes from my side, truly out of nowhere. I skid, avoid a crash with every ounce of desperation in me?—

And my life, my precious little life, not big or fancy butminenonetheless—it flashes before my eyes, just the way people always say it will. My home, my family, my little town, the people I love.

Not yet.It’s the last thought I’m aware of before the chaos of collision as I avoid the car but hit the ground instead.

Not yet. I can’t die yet.

INDIA

I never wantto see another cupcake in my life.

The whole car smells like vanilla buttercream frosting, a scent that mingles unpleasantly with the little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. I roll down the window as I come to a stop at the intersection, and then I stick as much of my head out as I can, inhaling deeply.

Fresh mountain air, faintly sweet with the scent of pine sap that’s somehow always stronger on warm days. A dry breeze pulls my hair into my vision, strands of reddish-brown, but I don’t smooth them back. I just continue to fill my lungs with my surroundings, and I only pull my head in when my phone rings, answering right as the light changes color.

“Yeah,” I say, putting the call on speaker and setting it on the center console. Then I shake my long hair out of my face so I don’t crash and die. No one needs that today.

A prickle of fear dances over my skin, and I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

I made it out of the motorcycle accident just fine. I haven’t even told anyone what happened. But I’d be lying if I said I’m totally over it.

But it’s all good. It will be great. I’m working on a plan.

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