“I need to check on Christine.” Lucy took the coats from Townes, who to his credit looked like he wanted to flee with her. “Raincheck, Murray?”
“In that case, mind if we join you?” Tally slipped into the seat where Lucy had just been. She picked up her glass like it was toxic waste. “We’ll need a clean glass please.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Lucy scurried away, making a beeline to the waitress who she’d shanghaied into covering for her.
“’Bout time,” Christine snapped when she saw Lucy.
“Trust me, I’d rather have kept the cash. Go take care of the VIPs. Tell the kitchen they can spit in whatever that lady orders.”
About thirty minutes later, her relief arrived, and Lucy ventured back to the restrooms. She saw Murray and Tallulah alone at the table, and they seemed stiff and perturbed so she passed with only a tiny nod in their direction. After a quick nose powdering, she exited the restroom and bumped directly into Townes, who was on his way back from the men’s room.
“Townes!” She looked over her shoulder to confirm they were alone. “Thanks for playing along out there.”
Townes nodded, but he didn’t let go of her arm. “Murray doesn’t need to know we’ve met.”
Met? How about dated for three months? The first time she’d seen Townes at a Layhe and Sons funeral, she’d gone to make Townes miss her. But Murray was more than she’d bargained for. “Fine by me.”
“Lucy…about Murray…”
“Let me stop you right there, T. You lost the right to weigh in on my love life when you walked away from me.”
“That’s not fair. I was just—”
“No need for a recap. I was there.” Her cheeks flushed, her heart straining at its patched-together seams. But she’d been naïve then, a silly freshman flailing around in the big bad world. Just when she thought things were getting serious, Townes dumped her because she wasn’t wife material.
“Murray isn’t who you think he is.” His earnest brown eyes infuriated her.
“How do you know who I think he is?”
“If you’re after his money—”
She stepped back from him, looking him up and down like she’d never seen him before. “How dare you—”
Contrite, he released her, hands up in defense. “I’m only saying there isn’t as much as you think.”
“Looks like he’s short in the ‘true friends’ department too.” Lucy spun on her heel and strode away. Murray saw her coming and scrambled out of the booth.
“Lucy—”
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
He gently took her elbow and steered her into a dark vestibule. “No, I’m sorry. My sister is…”
Lucy waited, chin up and arms folded.
Murray took her face in his hands, and the gesture was so sweet and his eyes so sincere, she melted. “…she’s having a hard time right now and it’s about to get a whole lot worse. Text me when you’re off. Pack a bag. Please?”
When Murray arrived at Lucy’s front door, he was greeted by the tallest woman he’d ever met.
“Murray Layhe.” The baritone voice explained everything at once. “The hearse makes so much more sense now.”
Murray squinted, as if he could see past the layers of make-up and false lashes. “Have we met?”
She smiled, allowing him entrance. She had lipstick on her teeth, but Murray elected not to disclose this. “Not when I was dressed like this, though. Michael Beauregard. We were in the same class.”
“Yes. Tony in West Side Story.” Murray remembered the outspoken kid who’d been the leading man in almost every school production. He’d have never guessed Michael to have such proclivities. He’d been a better actor than anyone realized. “How’ve you been?”
“Still putting on a show.” She shimmied and her tassels responded. “Lucy! Your dark prince has arrived!”
Lucy appeared, backpack in hand. She’d changed into jeans and a navy sweater, hair piled in an intentionally messy updo. She looked demure and tiny compared to her housemate.
“Ready?” Murray asked, and she nodded.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” her roommate called.
“I’m glad you texted. I wasn’t sure you would.” Since my sister is such a raging bitch.
I heard that.
Good.
Lucy glanced his way. “I wasn’t sure I would either. I found another note on my windshield at the restaurant.”
She handed him the note. Straight out of a movie, the letters had been clipped from magazines or newspapers.
StAy aAaWy frOm hiM
“I’m taking you to the police station.” Murray slowed the car and whipped the wheel around.
She put a hand on top of his. “No, just drive.”
They’d been in the car for about ten minutes before Lucy spoke again.
“Where are we going?”
“Marion, as promised. We have a family cabin along the way. Since I live with Tallulah and you have a roommate—”
“Did you bring condoms this time?” She seemed resigned that sex was an expectation.
He blew out a breath. “We don’t even have to sleep in the same room. I want to get to know you better, Lucy.”
“What do you want to know that you couldn’t learn from my journal?”
Touché.
Fuck off, Tally.
“Where you come from. What brought you here. What makes you tick.” He felt a headache forming behind his left eye and willed it away. He had brought condoms, and he intended to use them.
“College brought me here, but you knew that. I’m a writer, but you know that too.”
“How’d you get into it? And how’d you get so good at it?”
She looked like he’d pulled the rug out from under her, but she seemed to give his question thorough consideration. “I couldn’t go straight home after school. Granny worked until five, and my uncles…” She trailed off, but the heavy look she gave him explained enough. “…I didn’t want to be there. The public library was free. Those ladies were nice to me. They snuck me graham crackers and steered me to the classics once I’d burned through Hardy Boys and Sweet Valley High.
“I was reading Hemingway and Wolfe in the sixth grade. They transported me…let me escape for a time. I told myself I’d live in Berlin when I grew up.
