Page 26

Shade, Roan, and I started a clothing company nearly two years ago. Wasn’t my idea. It was Ricky’s to expand our brand, but fuck if they didn’t pull me into it. Though I didn’t mind the idea of us having a business to fall back on. You can’t do what we do forever. Nursing injury after injury, we’d be lucky if we weren’t paralyzed with arthritis from all the broken bones by the time we’re thirty.
Rubbing the side of my head, I roll my eyes at Scarlet who pulls on my hair to make me look at her. My neck cranes back against the couch cushion. “I’m not going.”
“Too bad.”
Camden pops up, twisting around to hang over the back of the couch. “Can I come?”
Scarlet ruffles his hair. “Sure.”
His eyes light up. “Can we get In-N-Out?”
I jump up, dropping my bag of chips to the ground. “If we’re getting food, I’ll go.”
Maybe food would make me feel better. Probably not, but it’s worth a try, right?
That. . . was a bad idea, wasn’t it? It certainly didn’t go as planned.
Did I have a plan? No, I don’t think I did.
“I blame you for that one, Ava,” I whisper, adjusting my sunglasses to shield the blaring sun heating my face.
“Are you talking to Mommy?” River asks, staring out the window, bumper to bumper traffic through LA. It’s the first she’s spoken since we left Tiller’s house and I’d bathed her in sanitizer.
“Yes,” I admit, the sudden pang to my chest reminding me that I haven’t talked a lot about Ava with River since she died. In some ways, I’ve been afraid to mention her in fear it might bring back a memory for River and scare her. “Sometimes I talk to her to make me feel better about her being gone.”
Twirling strands of her hair around her finger, she’s quiet for a moment and then asks, “Who’s that boy?” My eyes lift from the road to hers in the backseat. “He was. . . uh. . . .” I pause. Your dad. My heart. Love of my life. An asshole. So much comes to mind, but I settle on. “Just a boy. His name is Tiller.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “I like him hair. Can my hair be green?”
I laugh. She’s so much like me it’s crazy. I once dyed my hair red when I was four with Kool-Aid. My mother made me wash it out immediately and it stained the tile in the shower to the point they had to re-tile it. Maybe that’s why Regina hates me so much? “Well, your Auntie Alexandra and Grandma Regina might have something to say about it, but maybe we can work something out. You should be able to do whatever you want to your hair. It’s yours.”
There’s a soft smile on her face, a realization that she can do what she wants to her body. Within reason. I should probably add that, but I don’t. Maybe later. I don’t see the problem in dyeing your hair, or even piercing your body, but my sister and mother clearly don’t think like me. The first time I came home with hot pink hair at thirteen, my mom freaked the heck out and made me wash it out. She acted like I’d committed a sin, when in reality, it was just the start of me rebelling against them.
When we’re back at the house an hour later, my heart sinks at the sign in the front yard.
Oh, hell, no. Mother, you’re a bitch.
Okay, I know I’ve been kind of out of it these last few days, and I knew the plan was to sell the house, but I don’t ever remember having the conversation that we were putting it up for sale before their bodies were even decaying in the dirt. As harsh as that sounds. I mean, it’s been two days since the funeral, and not even a week since they died.
Do you remember the conversation? Did I miss something?
My mother, she thinks differently, and sometimes, almost always, with herself in mind.
“Who that?” River asks, peeking out the side window of my car at the lady nailing in the sign.
“I’m not sure.”
As I’m getting River out of her car seat, I notice Alexandra’s Mercedes in the driveway, in front of my car. Of course she’s behind this.
Once inside, I find Alexandra inside their bedroom, on her knees in Ava’s closet, sorting through her clothes, two separate piles around her.
In disbelief, I stand there for a moment, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she keeps sorting the clothes, one blouse after another. Anything that’s bold and bright colors is in one pile, another with neutrals. “What the heck are you doing?” I let go of my bag. It hits the deep rich mahogany wood floor with a thud. “And why is a real estate agent putting a sign up in the front yard? I thought we agreed to wait and sell the house so it wasn’t too much for River all at once?”
Holding up a pair of jeans, Alexandra doesn’t look at me as she examines them, and then tosses them aside. She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Well, for one, Mom and I looked at the bank accounts and they can’t afford to keep paying the mortgage for more than a few months with what’s left in there after paying for the funeral. We have to get it on the market now. There’s no telling how long it will take. The mortgage was fine when Cullen was working, but without them, we can’t afford to wait.”
My gaze shifts to River standing next to me. Lost in thought maybe, she’s staring out the window like she’s completely oblivious to anything around her.
“What about the life insurance money? Why can’t we use that for the mortgage?”