Page 41 of I Think He Knows
“We think it was the waitress.”
“You think it was the waitress,” I repeat as I flick on my blinker and pull off the highway. That tells me absolutely nothing. “And so, was it in the living room with the candlestick, or the parlor with the revolver?”
“Ooh, your sarcasm—which is the lowest form of wit, you know—reminds me that they’re thinking of doing anotherClue-type movie, something in the vein ofKnives Out. I think you’d be perfect for—”
“Elena, for the love of every single deity in the heavenly realms, what the frick happened with the engagement story and what fricking waitress are you talking about?!”
“Fine,” Elena huffs. “But don’t blame me if you miss out on the most iconic whodunnit role of the century. I’m talking about the waitress from our lunch with Freya yesterday. We think that she eavesdropped on our conversation, misunderstood what she heard, and thought you were proposing to your best friend imminently… then went straight to the gossip-powers-that-be with that information. Who, by the way, happened to already have pictures of you and Lana Mae at a dress store, plus a picture of you with her brother at a jewelry store, no less.”
Fricksake.
“You know who visits dress and jewelry stores?” Elena continues triumphantly. “People gettingmarried.”
Of all the things to be misconstrued, it had to bethis. I’d rather the media go back to their stupidCarter Callahan Headed For Rehabheadlines that barely grazed the surface of the truth than drag Lana Mae into any of my messes.
I sigh. “Lana’s brother was the one getting married, for goodness sakes. He was picking out a ring to propose tohisfiancée and I just happened to run into him in the neighborhood. And Lana and I were at a dress store to get a dress for a date that she was going on.”
“A date.”
“Yes,” I say, exasperated.
“With who?”
“With—”Oh, frick.My tangled web is back to tangle with me.“A date with me… of course.”
“Liar! I knew you were lying about having a girlfriend!” Elena practically yells. I can hear the glee in her tone, because if there’s anything this woman likes being, it’s right. “Nothing gets past me, you fool.”
I sigh again. Heavily, this time. Because I am a fool. Clearly. “I—”
“Didn’t want to cooperate with my tireless attempts to give you positive PR and get your reputation polished up. I know.”
“I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that,” I grouch. Around me, the scenery is changing from city concrete to suburban shrubbery. Almost there. And still with no clue what to say.
“I phrased it perfectly,” Elena says with a rare laugh. “But you’d better buckle up, buttercup. Believe it or not, your story-spinning has earned you a huge sack of brownie points with just about every official and unofficial media outlet in the country.”
I push my hair back off my forehead and grimace. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that thousands of pop culture enthusiasts took to the internet this afternoon to express their love for you and Lana Mae—that’s her name, right?”
“Right.”
“And you didn’t even tell me she was a single mom! It’s all going downbrilliantly. Such a wholesome angle: Carter Callahan, future stepdad to cute little girl.”
“Allegra stays out of this,” I growl.
“Sure, sure, we can play that angle down.” Elena waves off my fierceness, totally undeterred. “Either way, people arelovingthis. They’re tweeting. TikToking. Instagramming. The works. To the point where Nova Khatri, the casting director forIf Only, called me a few minutes ago…”
I’m not sure where Elena’s going with this, so I just say, “Okay.”
“She loves Larter!!”
“Larter?!”
“I’m experimenting with couple names for you guys.”
“Please don’t.” I pull into Lana Mae’s cul-de-sac, and then into her driveway. Kill the engine. “So what does this all mean?”
“It means that you bought yourself a shovel and dug your own hole with it.”