Page 67 of Fairy Tale Lies
“Sure.”
She said a quick thanks and rushed across the sidewalk. Once inside, she headed straight to the administration desk.
After explaining who she was to an older police officer with receding gray hair, he escorted Greta through a locked steel door, down a barren hallway, and into a plush office. There she found her mother perched in a comfortable visitor’s chair, talking with a city representative Greta recognized.
Her mother’s expression morphed from solicitous to furious when her gaze landed on Greta. The representative shot from his chair, offering them the privacy of his office and bid a hasty retreat. The man clearly didn’t want to be involved in their feud.
When the door clicked shut, her mother stalked toward Greta, pointing a shaky manicured finger. “You break things off with Blake and start dating trash from Detroit? What’s going on? I expect better from you.”
Greta snapped, “You know, Mother, the sad thing is, I didn’t expect better from you. Still, regrettably, you exceeded my expectations.”
Her mother reared back, as if slapped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve been dating Jacob for over a month now, and you want to know why I’ve never mentioned him?” Greta swallowed the anger clawing up her throat. “Because you’d judge and dismiss him, declaring our relationship didn’t meet your standards, but damn, Mother, I never dreamed you’d take it to this extreme.”
“Oh, please, Greta.” Her mother waved a dismissive hand, returning to her seat. She folded her hands in her lap, managing to appear both cool and condescending. “You didn’t tell me because you knew what kind of man you’re dating. Deep down you’re ashamed.”
“No!”
“You should be. He’s a lowlife.”
Greta gasped, gathering her anger and preparing to throw it at her mother.
“Excuse me,” Will growled, causing both women to jump. He stood at the door. Behind him was the rapidly retreating form of the old police officer. “The only thing low around here is you and what you’ve done.” Fury emanated from Will.
Sophia tensed at the insult. “Who are you?”
“I’m Will Grimm. Jacob’s brother.
“Oh, I’ve heard about you.” Sophia sniffed, scrunching her nose like she smelled something bad. “You’re even worse than your brother.” She returned her attention to Greta. “Nice company you keep. A drug addict and his dealer.”
“What?” Greta spluttered, wondering if her mother was losing her mind.
“My brother isn’t a dealer or a thief. Where are you coming up with this shit?” Will snarled.
Sophia took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose, and answered. Condemnation dripped from her every word as she said, “Police reports. He was arrested during a drug raid. Are you telling me he was there for the fantastic company and ambiance?”
“It was a misunderstanding. Jacob wasn’t charged,” Will said through clenched teeth.
“That he was able to have the allegations dropped doesn’t make him any less of a miscreant. It only tells me he had a decent lawyer.” She swung her haughty gaze away from Will and back to Greta. “And don’t pretend to be shocked, young lady. You know exactly what you’re dating.”
Oh no, here comes the rant.
Her mother loved nothing more than feeling like she had the high ground. It put her in lecture mode.
Too bad her standing was as steady as a home on the San Andreas fault line during an earthquake. The arrest she was referring to was probably the one Will mentioned on the drive over, and tonight’s arrest was utter nonsense. Nothing more than Blake’s vicious revenge.
“This Jacob,” her mother snapped, “was wearing Nigel’s Rolex the other day. And the police confiscated it from his house. I, nor Nigel, gave it to him. What other proof do you need?”
That’s her evidence? Seriously?! It’s flimsy as old, moth-eaten chiffon.
Greta wanted to scream. She more or less did. “Jesus, Mother! Jacob was wearing the Rolex because I’d just given the damn thing to him.”
Sophia inhaled sharply. “Why in the world would you do such a thing? You know how important the Rolex is to Nigel?”
“Because, Mother,” Greta shook with exasperation. “I asked Jacob to repair it for Nigel’s birthday.”
Her mother’s blue eyes widened in uncertainty. “Why would a simple mover, a drug dealer, be able to repair anything?”
