Page 11 of Craving Consequences

EVERLY

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ONE WEEK EARLIER...

“Which level of murder is accidental?”

I drag the phone higher between my ear and shoulder, balancing it in place while rifling through my bag for my blasted keys. It wouldn’t be so bad if the sun wasn’t baking the top of my head.

“Manslaughter, I think. Why?” I mumble, dragging out my unsanctioned novel and setting it on the hood. My wallet follows. “Who are you threatening to kill now?”

I hear their faint jingle somewhere at the very bottom and dive after it.

Lauren groans in my ear. “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

My fingers close around the bits of metal. My dad’s old fishing keychain digs into my palm as I scoop them out.

“Promising to kill someone isn’t an accident.” I drop my book and wallet back into my bag. “That’s just plain murder and usually frowned upon.”

The soles of my flats stick to the scorching asphalt as I struggle to get into my car. Despite the early hour, the day is already proving to be insufferable. Waves of heat lift off the pavement, giving everything a faint mirage effect that I’m not appreciating while I throw open the car door.

Ten thousand degrees of heat slaps my face. The cabin is a sealed tomb of rancid heat baked with the stench of overheated leather, stale sweat, and sunbaked dust. My thighs stick to the seat where my sundress doesn’t cover my skin.

A hiss escapes through my teeth as I collapse inside against my will, choking on the heat, lungs clawing for air that feels boiled. Sweat beads at my temples, sliding in rivulets down my back. I scramble for the window button and watch with dismay as it whirs down at a snail’s pace.

I’m panting by the time I get the key into the ignition. The metal slips between my sticky fingers but I give it a twist.

“Why is it so difficult?” Lauren is saying as I’m mounting the phone to the dash.

“If you use the last of something, put it on the list to get ordered. I made a spreadsheet. A very detailed inventory rundown to go through every day and calculate what needs to get ordered and when. But no one uses it. Like they just want to live in chaos.”

I say nothing as she continues running through a list of grievances I can recite from memory. I take the time to unearth an elastic from my bag and scrunch my hair up into a messy knot at the top of my head; anything to get the strands off my back .

Mayor Ferguson isn’t a stickler on dress code, thankfully. As long as we’re dressed moderately decent and professional, he’s willing to overlook little things like a messy bun. I honestly should have pinned my hair up from the start, but I can fix it once I get to City Hall.

“Everly?”

I stop fussing with my hair and focus on the call.

“I’m listening. I just think you need to talk to Mary-Anne. Explain to her—”

“You think I haven’t? She’s supposed to encourage the others to follow the steps and stay on top of things, but I’m just doing it on my own.”

“Maybe stop then if they don’t—”

I’m silenced by the scream of an industrial hairdryer. The muffled hum of chatter from the women getting their hair done at the Cut Mayor Ferguson has a policy that no one should arrive before him.

And since he arrives before the sun is even up, it’s a rule no one’s broken.

Not even Peggy Sue, who is Mayor Ferguson’s personal assistant and the first person to arrive for every occasion.

I know I’m the least qualified for the position of the mayor’s secretary.

There are definitely people who could do it better, but it’s honestly the only job I like even if it was only offered because Mayor Ferguson and my father were friends .

.. and because my father brought up the state of Ole Miller’s Bridge two months before my parent’s car went over it.

Obligatory friendship and guilt are the foundations on which I earned my place in Jefferson, and I think that’s fine. My existence in my parent’s town is strictly necessity based. Pegged down by a handful of people I can’t leave.

Lauren. She’s my world. The very center of every day. I can’t even imagine a life without her in it. She is everything I wish I could be with a confidence I can only dream of possessing.

Van and Lachlan.

I blow out a breath.