CHAPTER 5
BAD BLOOD
PRESENT
Apparently,Maggie and I are prone to paranoia because a loud, dull droning revs up from across the street, waking me from my liquor-induced coma the next morning…in the backseat of Maggie’s Range Rover. After several shots of tequila, my loose lips recalled one of the local urban legends about an unsavory app driver who attacked passengers in town. There was never any actual proof of such a thing happening. Still, as Mags and I stumbled our way down the McKenzie’s driveway, the thought of getting into a stranger’s car while completely shitfaced suddenly didn’t sound so appealing. Hence, I’m now peeling myself up from a nylon-covered back seat.
For the second morning in a row, it feels like my retinas are being burned clear out of my eye sockets as I find myself staring right into the sun. I roll over, my whole body sore with the effort, but thankfully, I’d taken Maggie’s advice and actually drank some water throughout the night, so my hangover is substantially better than it was yesterday.
Reaching down onto the floor to get my clutch, I blindly pull out my cell phone and steal a look at the time.
9:07 a.m.
“Shit!” I look up to see Maggie still fast asleep in the driver’s seat, her head resting comfortably on the bundled sweater she has pressed against the window.
“Mags.” I sit up and give her a nudge. “Maggie!”
“No, it’s mine,” she groans, swatting my hand away.
“What?”
That’s the thing about Maggie. Once she’s awake, she’s a regular dynamo. Waking her up, however, is the challenge. And the girl has what you could politely call an ‘overactive imagination.’
“You’ve gotta get up,” I say.
She merely whimpers, her eyes still shut. “Panda stole my sandwich.”
I laugh.
Thankfully, the girl can’t live without her cell, and like a beacon to her consciousness, Maggie immediately reaches for her phone in the cup holder the instant it rings. “Hello,” she sighs, still not having to open her eyes to answer.
“Get up, Sleeping Beauty.”
She chuckles, looking over her shoulder as my voice echoes between the back seat and her cell. “Was I talking?”
“Yep.”
“Did I say anything embarrassing?”
“I’m pretty sure a bear stole your turkey club.”
We both laugh, but the sound dissipates into a groan on my end.
“Hangover?” Mags asks.
“No, just thinking about the many ways my folks will contemplate killing me, seeing as how I broke curfew by over nine hours,” I say, handing her a pair of sunglasses.
Maggie waves them off, trying and failing to finger-comb the knots out of her hair. “I’m good. I don’t have any light sensitivity after drinking.”
I reach forward and pull down the visor, showing her the mirror. “It’s forthat.”
“Sweet corn puffs!” Maggie immediately snatches the sunglasses from me and throws them on, hiding the mascara, eyeliner, and dark shadow smudged all around her eyes. “I look like I take makeup tips from the Joker!”
”We’ll get you sorted,” I promise. But first things first. Time for me to get reamed out.
I anticipatethe worst as Maggie pulls into my driveway, and I breathe a sigh of relief to see neither of my parents’ cars is here. Unfortunately, my Camryis, which means Vanessa will most likely be home and aware of my no-show last night. Even if the ‘rents don’t know, she’ll make sure they find out.
Mags and I pat outside with our heels in hand, heading up to the house. She stretches her arms over her head and sighs while I hobble painfully as my left leg wakes up from my awkward sleeping position. I hear some talking out back, so I slink to the front porch.
