Page 94 of You're so Bad

He grins at me, and I feel grateful for having such good friends. Him. Delia and Mira. The other artists here at The Waiting Place. Maybe this is the something good that was waiting for me on the other side of Shit Mountain.

But my mind is a traitorous bitch, because it flashes to Leonard.

“Look at us,” I say, sobering. “We’re really rolling with the good ideas tonight, huh?”

“I’ll talk to Sinclair about the Halloween event, but I know she’s going to go for it,” Rafe says. “She has a thing for Halloween.”

“It’s the actress in her,” I say.

His gaze sharpens. “You may have spun a good idea out of this—” He waves at the children of my despair. “—but you haven’t made me forget about what’s behind it. Did the conman do something?”

He cracks his knuckles, and it really is very threatening. Or it would be if I didn’t know he’s ninety percent teddy bear, five percent piss and vinegar, and five percent actually dangerous. That five percent is reserved for the people who piss off or threaten the people he loves, though, and I’m lucky enough to be one of them.

“So you’re back to calling him a conman?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows.

“I’ll call him worse if he hurt you.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, feigning interest in another of my creations—a mug with five eyes, a mouth with two rows of teeth, and a sixth eye sculpted into the bottom of the interior. I don’t think anyone will be drinking from that.

“He did if he hurt you.”

“Where’s this attitude when it comes to Grandpa Frank?” I ask, mostly because I feel like being ornery.

He lifts his hands in the universal sign ofdon’t shoot.

“Okay, fine, that was unfair. I’m going to answer Grandpa. Eventually. I don’t mind making him sweat, though. He was a real jerk.”

“I’m happy to hear you say that,” Rafe says, letting his hands drop. His eyebrows lift. “But don’t think I don’t realize you’re changing the subject.”

That’s what you get for letting people know you too well.

“Leonard really hasn’t done anything wrong,” I insist. “He gave Colt a black eye.”

Rafe looks somewhere between amused and annoyed, probably because he was hoping to claim that pleasure for himself. “Did Bianca shit herself?”

“Yes, but somehow we’re still invited to pictures next weekend and then to the wedding. I don’t know how he did it, but Leonard convinced Colter to lie for him. Colt pretended some psychopath wandered into the woods and punched him in the eye.”

Of course, Bianca wrote a scathing one-star review of the campground, complaining about the “psychotic drifter” and the crickets in our cabin. I spent an hour combing through internet groups, trying to find a society of cricket enthusiasts who might want to meet there and study whether it was a special breeding ground. But cricket the sport is apparently more popular then crickets the bugs, so it was a waste of time. I settled for writing two glowing reviews and sending the owners a box of “happy” danishes from a local bakery.

Rafe pushes his lips out. “So, the guy’s got skills.”

My mind flashes to Leonard, fucking me on that table and in that gazebo. Leonard, on his knees with his mouth between my legs.

“Yeah,” I say through a dry mouth. “He’s got skills.”

“Why’d he hit him?”

I’m about to let it all spill. Colt cheating. Him and Bianca conniving to make sure my monster mugs never made it into the store. But then the curtain ripples and a throat is cleared on the other side. “There’s no good way to knock on a piece of cloth,” a voice says.

It’shisvoice.

ChapterTwenty-Five

Shauna

I’m annoyed by the way my whole body lights up.

“Come on back,” I say, my lips suddenly dry.

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