“Wow, she really hates her,” Ray observed.
“I will not leave.” Mallory stomped her foot.
She looked to be about the same age as Mel and Angie, but she was definitely the sort of woman who was used to being pampered. Her hair and skin looked like they’d just been polished at a spa, her clothes were haute couture, but there was no air of having a job or responsibilities or of being accountable or work-weary coming off of her.
Elise writing about her unfavorably was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to Mallory, and the most infuriating part of the whole thing was likely the fact that there was nothing she could do about it. The anxiety on her face was almost comical.
“Sweetie, you have two choices. You can kick up a fuss and I’ll have security escort you out of the building or you can sit there and listen to my book talk like a grown-up,” Elise said.
Mallory pushed her way out of her row so that she stood in the middle of the central aisle. She wore a pink micro minidress that hugged her curves and ended about an inch below her bottom. Beige platform sandals added a half foot to each of her legs, making her taller than average. She glared at Elise, tipped up her chin, and planted her hands on her hips in a defiant stance.
“Make me.”
Angie made a gurgling sound in her throat as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Elise waved a hand at the security men, stationed by the main doors. Mel hadn’t noticed them before but now she wondered if they had anticipated some trouble since Elise’s book was known for being a thinly veiled portrayal of all the dish found in the Palms neighborhood, including her ex-husband’s affair with a much younger woman, aka Mallory.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Mallory cried.
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Elise asked. The smile she turned on Mallory was pure malice. “After you ruined my marriage, stole my life, and made me a pariah in my own neighborhood, why wouldn’t I?”
She nodded and the security team surged forward. Mallory let out a squeal and broke into a run headed right for the cupcake towers. The look in her eye was one of pure spite and Mel knew exactly what she was thinking. She was going to destroy the cupcakes to get revenge on Elise.
“Oh, hell no,” Angie cried.
She turned to bolt around the tables while Mel stood paralyzed as she watched hours of work swing in the balance of one woman’s cupcake-icidal rage.
Mallory was three yards out with the security team hot on her high heels when a tackle came from the side and she was sent crashing to the floor by a blur in a black leather jacket.
Mel rose up on her tiptoes to peer over the table. Sure enough, Ray had taken the woman out but had gallantly spun his body so that she landed on top of him.
“Nice one, Bro!” Angie leaned over her brother and lifted up his hand to give it a solid high five.
“Ugh,” Ray grunted.
Mallory used her elbows to his midsection to push her way to her feet. She was disheveled and wobbly and the security guards grabbed her by the arms before she could get away.
Elise had left the platform and was striding down the middle aisle, looking like she was taking a victory lap. It was very clear who was on whose turf now, and she seemed to be relishing it.
She leaned close, putting her heavily made-up face right in Mallory’s fresh one and said, “Escort her from the premises.”
“Mallory! Elise! What the hell is going on?” A man in a suit and tie charged into the room. His thinning gray hair was styled up in spikes as if to hide the pink skin of his balding skull, his middle-aged paunch hung out over his belt, and he was huffing and puffing as if running into the conference room from the front desk was more of a workout than he was used to.
“The ex?” Angie mouthed to Mel from across the table. Mel shrugged, but it seemed likely.
One of the security guards helped Ray to his feet. Ray brushed his clothes off, not that they needed it, and stepped back. He resumed his sentry position with his arms crossed over his chest and a forbidding look on his face.
“Your child bride crashed my book signing,” Elise said. She gave Mallory a scathing glance. “Funny, I didn’t think she was old enough to drive.”
There were a few laughs from the crowd and a corner of Elise’s mouth lifted. She was drawing strength from the people who had come to see her.
“Elise, that is beneath you,” her ex-husband said.
“Really, Todd?” she asked. “The whole reason we’re divorced is because she was beneath you.”
“Do something!” Mallory stomped her foot and glared at her husband.
“That’s right,” Elise goaded the couple. “The new Mrs. Cavendish wants you to contain the former one. Too bad you have absolutely no power over me. None. I’m Elise Penworthy now and I can do and say whatever I want, and I want to tell everyone exactly what a pitiful, middle-aged cliché you are.”
Mallory growled and Todd’s face turned bright red. Todd Cavendish made a valiant effort to wrestle back his dignity by casting a withering glance at Elise, but it was nullified by his thinning hair, potbelly, and the furious glare being directed at him by his new wife, who was easily less than half his age.
“I had no idea you were so classless,” Todd said. He sniffed as if he felt he was above a sordid scene.
“Says the man who married a girl still wearing a school uniform every day,” Elise snapped. “Was it the pigtails, the plaid skirt, or the knee socks that got your . . . um . . . attention? Really, we all want to know.”
“I’m going to slap her so hard,” Mallory howled. She shook off the security guard still holding
