“I thought he was a triggerman.”
If he’s after Marissa then he’d put a bullet through her head. Why’s he going after her business?
“Yeah, weird right.” There’s a long pause and then, “So do you know anything about him?”
“No.” My heart breaks knowing this is the only reason she called me. “I don’t have anything on him. I don’t have anything to tell you.”
“Come on, Russie,” Daisy pleads. “You know Marissa will make my life hell.”
Isn’t she already?
“Even if it’s just tidbits,” she says.
“I don’t have any.”
“So what? No pillow talk.”
It’s not just unease crawling over me. I catch a glimpse of my wrinkled nose in the mirror. Something about how she says it makes me hate her.
“Max doesn’t talk about business.”
“Oh, right. Marissa says you live in a really nice penthouse now.”
I don’t say anything.
“So I guess, it all worked out okay.”
“Why would you say that?” I ask slowly. And why would she say it like that?
“What?” Daisy’s words are increasingly bitter. “I’m just saying, you crapped on me all the time when I did escorting. But I guess spreading your legs for a mafia prince is different. Bet he buys you nice stuff too.”
“You don’t know. . .” I take a deep breath. “It wasn’t just happily ever after. I married a stranger because you asked for my help.”
“And now what? You’re too good to help me anymore?”
Despite my rising frustration at Daisy’s crappy mood, I direct my rage towards the true villain—Marissa. “Is she doing stuff to you?”
She doesn’t respond right away.
“Daisy?” With the phone still to my ear I glance at the door worried someone’s in the hallway.
“No,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s lying.
Maybe it’s because we’re talking on the phone or because it’s been over seven months since I’ve seen her last, but I’m struggling to decipher my best friend.
“Daisy, what if I can help you?” I don’t want to get her hopes up, but this has gone on too long.
I make out a sniffle. “If you want to help, dig up dirt on the Ghost. Please.”
Daisy doesn’t need to get caught up any more than she already has in Marissa’s bullshit.
“Please for me. . . and the baby.”
You could try saving the baby.
Icy claws dig into my chest at the thought.Marissa will take your baby away from you,I want to yell.She’s not protecting you. She wants you fucking punished!
None of these comments make it out of my mouth. I’ve had years of arguing with Daisy to understand how stubborn she is. How can she not see the writing on the wall, though?
