She smiles at me with big, white teeth and perfect pink lipstick that matches her leather jacket. She's even wearing cowboy boots with glitter on them. They look strangely out of place in the dewy wet green and blue-gray of the Pac Northwest.
“There are no coincidences, sugar, only opportunities.”
“Is that so?” I ask, lifting the bitter blackness of the coffee to my mouth. “Well then, what opportunity brings you this way?”
“Believe it or not, I live right across the street.” Glinda points over at a single story beach bungalow that I've seen a million times and never thought twice about. Great. Now my favorite coffee place feels tainted. “I saw you sittin' over here, and I decided I'd come down so we could have a little chitchat.” She reaches over and pats my conservative French manicure with her long pink acrylics.
“If it's about having Mia jump me, don't worry, I've already dealt with that.” I smile sweetly at her and continue to sip down the delicious perfection that is caffeine. Glinda goes silent, her pearly pink lips popping into a small O before she shakes it off and runs her fingers through her blond hair.
“I'm afraid I don't know what you're talkin' about,” she says as she slides her palms down the thighs of her jeans. Clearly, I've made her nervous by taking the first strike, but I'm not done yet.
“Oh, you haven't heard about the way she had her three friends hold me down, so she could cut up my face?” I slide a finger along the nearly invisible line of the wound on my right cheek. “Or the way she chopped off my hair?” I point to the new do I'm sporting. “Or maybe about the way she did it in plain sight of my father's security cameras?”
“Listen up, Miss Rentz, I don't think—”
I cut Glinda off with a wave of my right hand, dismissing her words like they were never there. This is my conversation, my time to talk.
“No, you don't think. Because if you did, if your friend did, you'd both realize how close you came to bringing hell down on the club. Mayor's Daughter Assaulted Outside her Father's Office by Alpha Wolves Groupies. How does that headline sound to you, Glinda?” I watch her face as it pales and then turns a funny shade of red. “Did you ever think about why the club might need this agreement with the city? Or does your husband not tell you shit?”
“Welcome to the life, Miss Rentz. Club business is boys' business. The quicker you learn that little fact, the quicker you can make yourself scarce. Sweetheart, this just isn't the right place for you right now. You gotta know that better than anybody else.”
I let my smile smolder, slow and easy, cooking into a simmering boil that I know Glinda is going to hate.
“So your husband approved of the attack? I wonder because, you know, Royal didn't. Good thing I know that girls' business should stay girls' business, right? You tell Mia that last time, I kept my Glock in my purse out of respect. Next time, I'm going to shoot her in the foot to teach her a lesson. And Glinda, I'm a very good shot; I won't miss.”
I set my coffee down and stand, running my hands down the front of my black jumpsuit.
“See you at the barbecue tomorrow,” I tell her as I hitch my purse up my shoulder and watch as Sketch gets to his feet and heads toward his bike. As I'm walking away, Glinda reaches out and grabs me by the arm, her nails digging into my skin.
“When Royal asks you to marry him tomorrow, you gonna say yes, sugar?”
I blink three times at her before I can gather myself together. What. The. FUCK?!
“You probably should, you know, since a wife can't testify against her husband during a criminal trial.” Glinda lets go of me as I stand there stupidly and stare at her. “The boys discussed it during church and decided that was the best way to deal with a loose end like you.” Glinda rises up and stares down at me, making me very suddenly aware of my height. I want to punch her right in the tit. “Guess your old man doesn't tell you everything,” she says, sweeping blond hair over one shoulder as she starts to move away.
“Must be difficult,” I say quietly, but I know she can hear the sweet menace of my words. “To be so insecure in your position that you see everyone and everything as a threat. Get it together, Glinda, or you might not be seeing Mia in the clubhouse anymore.” She pauses, but doesn't glance over her shoulder at me. “I might be the new chick on the block, but I don't take crap—from anyone.”
I turn and open the driver's side door of my car, climbing in before Glinda gets it together enough to keep moving, her pink cowboy boots clomping down the sidewalk.
The engine turns over and I get two full blocks away before what she said really hits me.