Nowhere But Here
Page 11
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“You know Meg will make her leave. Meg thought I was dead. This was a pity offering. Let’s take her up on it. Get Emily a drink, give her a second to collect herself then bring her out to meet her family.” She motions to us. “Don’t you want to meet Emily?”
The girl’s my kind of gorgeous, no question: sexy, beautiful dark hair and eyes like a doe’s. Gotta admit, her curves turned me on and that dress she wore sealed the deal. It clung to her in all the right ways, but what was smoking was the way she wore it. Mysterious. Classy. Never seen anyone from Emily’s world walk up to the Reign of Terror as if they didn’t have a single fear.
But Emily is bad news. She’s been a nonstop thorn in this family’s side and has continually caused the people I love to bleed. Her being here will rupture already vulnerable arteries.
“No.” Chevy, as always, preaches the truth. “I don’t want to meet her.”
Olivia points at Chevy. “For that answer, you’re tilling my garden and spreading compost to get ready for tomato planting.”
“Hell,” Chevy mutters.
“Hi, Olivia,” Stone says quietly. “I’m really enjoying your wake.”
Olivia touches her fingers to her lips. Twenty bucks she didn’t notice him, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have spoken so openly. She reaches out and pushes Stone’s overgrown hair away from his eyes. “There’s something different about you. What is it?”
Stone peeks at Eli, who stands behind Olivia beaming like a proud papa.
“Contacts, ma’am.”
“Well, I love them, and don’t ma’am me. You know better than that. Why don’t you go find Cyrus for me? I need to talk to him after I get done grilling Eli. And Stone, remember, what’s said in my house, stays in my house.”
He beelines it out of the kitchen into the thick crowd in the hallway. Once Stone’s gone on the hunt for Olivia’s husband, she returns to hammering her son. There’s no question of kicking us out—Olivia has always talked openly in front of me and Chevy because she considers us her flesh and blood, too. “She’s my granddaughter. I want the chance to meet her. Talk with her. Get to know her. Meg will never allow that if she knows I’m alive.”
“As I said, once she calms down, I’ll bring her to the house. I don’t like the idea of her being here.” He drops his voice. “It’s too wide-open. Too many eyes.”
“A few minutes here won’t hurt,” pleads Olivia. “A half hour tops. If you leave, you’ll have to tell her father. He’ll tell Meg I’m alive and then I’ll lose my chance.”
“You’re telling me what you want and I’m telling you what I can give you.” Eli rummages through the two-liters, continually picking up the Sprites only to come up empty each time. “Damn leeches drank everything dry.”
He goes to pull his wallet out of his back pocket and his face turns an unusual shade of crimson. “Chevy.”
My best friend tosses Eli’s wallet back.
“Do it again and I’ll nail you to the wall, got it?” threatens Eli.
“It’s compulsive.” Never met a guy that can pick any pocket clean like Chevy. “Besides, I always give it back.”
Eli checks his wallet and when he’s certain everything’s inside he yanks out a couple dollars. “Oz, there’s a vending machine across the street. Go get Emily a Sprite. After that, help Cyrus keep this place contained. If they aren’t associated with the Reign of Terror, throw their asses out. With Emily here and the shit going on with the Riot, I want this placed locked down.”
“Dammit, Eli!” This gains everyone’s attention. A lull falls over the once boisterous conversations in the hallway. Olivia hasn’t raised her voice like that in months.
She continues in a whisper. “She’s my granddaughter. My granddaughter.”
Olivia thumps her fist against her chest each time she says granddaughter. Both Chevy and I shoot to our feet, but it’s Eli that catches her before she sways too far.
My heart beats wildly and my throat constricts. I don’t understand what the hell is happening inside me, but I know what’s happening inside Olivia. She’s dying and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.
Eli hugs his mother. “We’ll go in after we get you something to eat.”
I move because it hurts too bad to stay still. “I’ll get her the Sprite.” Though I don’t know why. It’s Emily’s fault that Olivia is upset. I wish Emily had remained the illegitimate daughter that disappeared and never returned.
Emily
THE OFFICE OF a funeral director resembles those of normal people: file cabinets, a desk, a rolly chair, paperwork, a computer, pictures of kids and families. No jars of blood, no dead people or dead people parts. Small consolation.
I’m ticked. Extremely ticked. Like a-tick-interrupted-from-a-meal ticked.
She’s alive. My freaking non-grandmother is still alive, and she scared the hell out of me.
Completely spent, I sit in the chair, hold my phone and wait impatiently for it to vibrate. I left Mom a message, and someone went to find Dad. I want to go home.
My legs have the strength of mashed potatoes. I’m cold and clammy, and my stomach churns like I vomited. That’s because I did, in the viewing room, and I discovered that yellow bile does not blend well with red velvet industrial carpeting. My crowning achievement in overreaction.
The girl’s my kind of gorgeous, no question: sexy, beautiful dark hair and eyes like a doe’s. Gotta admit, her curves turned me on and that dress she wore sealed the deal. It clung to her in all the right ways, but what was smoking was the way she wore it. Mysterious. Classy. Never seen anyone from Emily’s world walk up to the Reign of Terror as if they didn’t have a single fear.
But Emily is bad news. She’s been a nonstop thorn in this family’s side and has continually caused the people I love to bleed. Her being here will rupture already vulnerable arteries.
“No.” Chevy, as always, preaches the truth. “I don’t want to meet her.”
Olivia points at Chevy. “For that answer, you’re tilling my garden and spreading compost to get ready for tomato planting.”
“Hell,” Chevy mutters.
“Hi, Olivia,” Stone says quietly. “I’m really enjoying your wake.”
Olivia touches her fingers to her lips. Twenty bucks she didn’t notice him, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have spoken so openly. She reaches out and pushes Stone’s overgrown hair away from his eyes. “There’s something different about you. What is it?”
Stone peeks at Eli, who stands behind Olivia beaming like a proud papa.
“Contacts, ma’am.”
“Well, I love them, and don’t ma’am me. You know better than that. Why don’t you go find Cyrus for me? I need to talk to him after I get done grilling Eli. And Stone, remember, what’s said in my house, stays in my house.”
He beelines it out of the kitchen into the thick crowd in the hallway. Once Stone’s gone on the hunt for Olivia’s husband, she returns to hammering her son. There’s no question of kicking us out—Olivia has always talked openly in front of me and Chevy because she considers us her flesh and blood, too. “She’s my granddaughter. I want the chance to meet her. Talk with her. Get to know her. Meg will never allow that if she knows I’m alive.”
“As I said, once she calms down, I’ll bring her to the house. I don’t like the idea of her being here.” He drops his voice. “It’s too wide-open. Too many eyes.”
“A few minutes here won’t hurt,” pleads Olivia. “A half hour tops. If you leave, you’ll have to tell her father. He’ll tell Meg I’m alive and then I’ll lose my chance.”
“You’re telling me what you want and I’m telling you what I can give you.” Eli rummages through the two-liters, continually picking up the Sprites only to come up empty each time. “Damn leeches drank everything dry.”
He goes to pull his wallet out of his back pocket and his face turns an unusual shade of crimson. “Chevy.”
My best friend tosses Eli’s wallet back.
“Do it again and I’ll nail you to the wall, got it?” threatens Eli.
“It’s compulsive.” Never met a guy that can pick any pocket clean like Chevy. “Besides, I always give it back.”
Eli checks his wallet and when he’s certain everything’s inside he yanks out a couple dollars. “Oz, there’s a vending machine across the street. Go get Emily a Sprite. After that, help Cyrus keep this place contained. If they aren’t associated with the Reign of Terror, throw their asses out. With Emily here and the shit going on with the Riot, I want this placed locked down.”
“Dammit, Eli!” This gains everyone’s attention. A lull falls over the once boisterous conversations in the hallway. Olivia hasn’t raised her voice like that in months.
She continues in a whisper. “She’s my granddaughter. My granddaughter.”
Olivia thumps her fist against her chest each time she says granddaughter. Both Chevy and I shoot to our feet, but it’s Eli that catches her before she sways too far.
My heart beats wildly and my throat constricts. I don’t understand what the hell is happening inside me, but I know what’s happening inside Olivia. She’s dying and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.
Eli hugs his mother. “We’ll go in after we get you something to eat.”
I move because it hurts too bad to stay still. “I’ll get her the Sprite.” Though I don’t know why. It’s Emily’s fault that Olivia is upset. I wish Emily had remained the illegitimate daughter that disappeared and never returned.
Emily
THE OFFICE OF a funeral director resembles those of normal people: file cabinets, a desk, a rolly chair, paperwork, a computer, pictures of kids and families. No jars of blood, no dead people or dead people parts. Small consolation.
I’m ticked. Extremely ticked. Like a-tick-interrupted-from-a-meal ticked.
She’s alive. My freaking non-grandmother is still alive, and she scared the hell out of me.
Completely spent, I sit in the chair, hold my phone and wait impatiently for it to vibrate. I left Mom a message, and someone went to find Dad. I want to go home.
My legs have the strength of mashed potatoes. I’m cold and clammy, and my stomach churns like I vomited. That’s because I did, in the viewing room, and I discovered that yellow bile does not blend well with red velvet industrial carpeting. My crowning achievement in overreaction.
