Page 67 of How Dare You

“Like almost five years,” Allie breathes out, irritated. “Her stuff has a way of staying popular.” Well, that’s lovely. Of course, it was the reason I agreed to the interview in the first place. A good recommendation from her would have gone a long way to helping us. Allie realizes what she said and tries to backtrack. “Oh my god. I’m sure that article was an anomaly though. I doubt anyone will read this after a couple days.”

“How did this end up happening, anyway?” Sadie asks, peeling back the paper on a cupcake. “What did she tell you she was interviewing you for?”

“It was supposed to be a highlight of women entrepreneurs in Palm Springs,” I explain. “I should have done a better job researching her.”

Before I can spiral into self-deprecation over getting myself into this mess, Bea says, “That’s actually a really good idea for a blog. Does anyone know of any other local writers?”

“Not yet,” Allie says, sitting up straighter from her place on the ground where she has been leaning against Luke’s legs. “But I’ll ask every person who comes through Turbine until I find one.” I doubt her declaration is hyperbole. Bea adds it to the list.

Rhett, who’s been quietly allowing the conversation to carry on without him, speaks up, “What was the interview with Nathalie like?”

The memory flashes back to me, and the pieces start to fall together. “Do you remember that day I ran into you after you were meeting with Trina?” I ask.

“I remember. You were all flustered and adorable,” he says, then seems to remember we aren’t the only ones here. “But I wasn’t meeting with her. She was actually wrapping up a meeting with someone else, and we both happened to be at the same coffee shop. We were just talking on the way to the parking lot when you ran into us.”

“What were you doing at a coffee shop other than Turbine?” Allie asks, spinning on him.

Bea tilts her head toward Allie. “Is that really the most pressing thing?” But I appreciate her pulling the focus away from me, even if it is just for a moment.

“I was on the other side of town,” Rhett explains placatingly. “I’d much rather have Turbine coffee. It’s the best in town.”

“Coffee travels,” Allie points a finger at Rhett. “We have these things called to-go cups, and mine are biodegradable.”

Rhett apologizes, promising never to get coffee anywhere else in town again with far more seriousness than the accusation deserves.

“Whatever, I can’t stay mad at you,” she smiles brightly at him, then turns to me. “Okay, so tell your story.”

“Thanks for the permission.” I smile, then ask Rhett, “Was the person Trina met with a dark-haired woman, fair skin, a few inches shorter than me, wearing a robin’s egg blue dress?”

Rhett looks up, trying to recall the memory. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That was Nathalie,” I say. “I met with her after I saw you and Trina.”

A little chorus of ooh’s echoes around the room.

“I wonder if the whole thing was Trina’s idea.” Bea says, “Or if Nathalie decided to put it together after meeting with you both.”

“She did ask a lot of questions about my years working for Trina, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. It may sound a little unhinged, but I’ve believed for a while that Trina’s purposely trying to take down Friday West. She did not take it well when I left.” I share the details of each partial piece of evidence I have that brought me to the conclusion, the transparency with my friends coming more naturally as the night wears on.

The plan we put together is surprisingly solid, and it is much more thorough than what I would have been able to come up with on my own. I’m not looking forward to facing it, or having to talk to my mother about it, but I’m trying to believe in the spark of hope my friends have lit for me.

Chapter 27

Rhett

Devon let us help her.

-From Rhett’s Most Important Things notebook, September 3rd

“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask Devon, as she sits up in bed.

“I have to face the day at some point.” She smiles over her shoulder at me, the bare skin of it peeking out through the wide neck of my Banjo’s BBQ t-shirt. I packed it when she wasn’t looking, and she hugged it to her chest when she found it last night thanking me for letting her borrow it. But it’s hers now, whether she realizes it or not.

“The sun isn’t even facing the day yet.” I hook my arm around her waist and pull her back into my chest. She smiles, but it’s strained.

“I won’t feel better until I have done something about this.” She exhales a weighted breath.

I grab her watch from its place on the nightstand. “Devon. It’s three thirty in the morning.”