Page 49 of Going Deep
Ginger shook her head. “I’m not really up for going out. Would it be totally boring to just do a girl’s night in? Make snacks, watch TV?”
“Works for me,” Lola said.
“I’ll make the popcorn,” Anna offered and pushed to her feet.
“I don’t have any,” Ginger told her.
“There’s some at my place.” Lola got up. “Be right back.”
“Bring back wine, too,” Anna called after her, then plopped back down on the sofa. “So, have you talked to Michael since he left town?”
Ginger shook her head. “No. He said he’d call when he got back, but I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“Why’d he have to leave, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I think it was a work thing.” Ginger frowned. “What does he do for work?”
“Besides the club?” Anna looked baffled. “I honestly have no idea. I thought the club was his job.”
“Well, he owns it.” Ginger stretched out to lie on the floor, wiggling her pretty toes. “Doesn’t he?”
“Yes. I mean, I think so.” Anna picked up her pop. “He lives above it, so he must, right?”
“Don’t ask me.”
“You’re the one sleeping with him,” Anna pointed out.
Ginger snorted. “That doesn’t mean I know anything about him.”
Lola walked into the apartment, a jar of popcorn kernels in one hand and a half-full bottle of white wine in the other. “I didn’t have any microwave popcorn, but I found this in the back of my pantry. I don't know how long it’s been there.”
Anna heaved herself off the couch. “I can work with that. Do you know what Michael’s job is?”
Lola handed off the popcorn and the wine. “He works for the foundation.”
Anna took her bounty into the kitchen. “What foundation?”
“The Killingsworth Foundation.”
“What the hell is the Killingsworth Foundation?”
“Wait a minute.” Ginger sat up. “I’ve heard of them. Aren’t they the ones trying to fix the water problem up in Flint?”
“Trying,” Lola confirmed. “There’s a lot of red tape to hack through, and the city hasn’t exactly been welcoming.”
“I don’t know why.” Anna dug a pot out of a cabinet. “It’s not like they’re doing anything to get their own damn people clean water.”
“Politics,” Lola said drily.
“Michael works for them?” Ginger asked.
Lola resumed her spot on the sofa. “Sure. The whole family does.”
“The whole family?” Ginger echoed.
“Killingsworth was his grandmother’s maiden name,” Lola explained. “It’s their foundation.”
There was a crash from the kitchen. “Shit. Sorry.” Anna bent to pick up the pot. “Michael’s a Killingsworth?”
