Page 46

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Margot

The few sips of champagne I took have me lightheaded, feeling like a balloon bobbing along as Shelby grips my hand tight and leads me through the crowd.

Her emerald-green dress clings to her curves, shimmering with hundreds of beads and sequins that swing with every step—like a modern-day flapper gone glam, hypnotizing me as she pulls me into a long hallway.

Although they’re dim, at least the lights are a normal color at this end of the clubhouse.

The hellish red was starting to give me a headache.

She turns to the left and some of the noise from the party mercifully fades.

“Phew, that’s better!” Shelby slows her pace. “Sorry it took me so long to get my makeup done. Serena did Hope and Emily first. But if I’d known you were gettin’ propositioned by Stella, I would’ve come an’ grabbed ya sooner.”

“It’s okay.”

She releases my hand and stops in front of a door. I glance up and down the corridor, noting several doors. Some have little plaques tacked to the wall outside. The one we’re standing in front of says Sergeant-at-Arms .

“Knock, knock!” Shelby taps her knuckles against the door twice, then three times, then once. “So she knows it’s me.” She tugs at a fob dangling from a stretchy band around her wrist, presses it to a pad near the door. The lock clicks and Shelby twists the handle.

The door swings open, revealing a spacious bedroom.

The tall blonde I only met briefly the night of the bonfire hurries toward us, motioning for us to come inside.

In her hand, she’s holding an iPad with a video of a cute, chubby baby on the screen.

She’s flawlessly made up—hair in a low, sleek ponytail and full makeup—but still wearing a button-down shirt and loose shorts.

Goodness, it’s not the lighting that makes her so pretty in her makeup videos.

Even in the harsh light of the room, Serena’s stunning in person.

Next to her I feel like a vampire who escaped her tomb.

“Sorry,” she gushes. “I had to check in with Lilly and make sure Lincoln was okay.”

“Hi, girls!” The video swings away from the cute baby and onto Lilly’s smiling face. “Hi, Margot!”

Feeling silly, I wave back. “Hi.”

“Oh, we’ve got a doozy for ya tomorrow, Lilly,” Shelby says.

Lilly snickers into her hand. “I can only imagine.”

Somewhere out of view of the camera, a deep male voice says something to Lilly.

She closes her eyes and shakes with laughter. “Z wants to know if the clubhouse is still standing?”

“Yeah, but it looks like the inside of a devil’s butthole out in the common room,” Shelby says.

Serena and I sputter with laughter.

“Wow.” Lilly’s eyes widen. “All right, then. Thanks for the visual, Shelby.”

“You’re welcome!” She gives us a sheepish shrug. “What? It does.”

“I may have used the words vampire whorehouse before.” I shrug. “But devil’s butthole works too.”

Serena walks over to a long vanity table with two chairs and several ring lights stationed around it and asks for one more peek at her son before disconnecting the call.

“Okay.” Serena sets the iPad down. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Shelby says. “I knew you were worried about Link.”

“Hope said goodnight to Grace earlier,” Serena says. “So I got a peek at him then too.” She turns her pretty blue eyes my way and holds her arms out, inviting me in for a hug. “Hi, Margot. I’m so happy to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I say, giving her a quick, hello squeeze.

“How’s the party?”

“Honestly?” No. I don’t know her well enough to complain too harshly. Her man’s the SAA here. Keeping my opinions to myself, I settle for, “Um, it’s been an eye-opener.”

“I bet.” Serena snorts. Her shrewd gaze lands on me again. “I love that red gloss. It compliments your skin tone well.”

My face heats. “Thanks.” I duck my head. I was too nervous to tell her this the last time we met but now seems like a good time. “I’m actually a big fan of your channel, so that means a lot.”

“No way! Really?” Serena squeals, like she’s shocked to meet a fan out in the wild. “Thank you so much.” She turns and gestures toward the vanity. “Shelby and I were filming a tutorial before.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see it.”

On the way over to the room, I’d been too distracted by nerves and dazzled by Shelby’s dress to notice her makeup.

But now, up close, I can’t stop staring.

Her eyes are framed in a smoky blend of charcoal and deep plum, a razor-sharp cat-eye in metallic gold adding some shimmer.

Warm blush sweeps over her cheekbones in a soft, sculpted arc, highlighting her perfect skin.

And her honey-toned satin lipstick? Perfectly applied. Not a smudge in sight.

“It came out beautiful.” I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m trying too hard. I mean every word.

“Thank you.” Serena beams at Shelby. “She’s a pretty perfect canvas.”

Shelby ducks her head and shimmies her shoulders.

“I’ve always admired your contouring skills,” I add. “I picked up a few tricks from watching your videos.”

Regret slams into me half a second later. Why did I say that? She’s going to think I’m a freaky fangirl—or worse, realize I mean that I used her tips to contour sunken cheeks, flattened noses, and postmortem eye sockets.

“Margot, you’re the cosmetologist at your family’s funeral home, right?” Shelby asks.

More heat sears my cheeks. I nod quickly. “It’s not the same as what you do, Serena, obviously but?—”

“No, but it’s deeply meaningful,” Serena says. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable or weirded out by me. Doesn’t tilt her head in polite pity or awkward confusion. She meets my eyes with soft understanding. “What you do must give people a little peace in the worst moment of their lives.”

“Yes!” I answer a little too enthusiastically.

That’s a topic I could talk about all day.

“Sorry. I just—sometimes people bring reference photos from, like, twenty years ago. Glamour shots or their wedding day photos. And they want their mom, or grandmother, or whoever to look exactly like that. It’s hard. But we always try.”

Serena presses a hand to her chest. “Wow. I never thought about how difficult that must be.”

Why would she?

I shrug, trying to downplay how much it matters to me. I don’t want her to remember me as weird lady who wouldn’t shut up about makeup for dead folks.

“Sometimes all they need is something small to hold onto—a hairstyle, or a favorite lipstick shade,” I say. “It’s those little things that matter more than people think.”

Shelby lets out a low whistle. “Dang. I never thought about how much pressure that must be.”

“Anyway.” I hold up my hands like I’m tapping out of the morbid talk. “I think your channel is fabulous, Serena. I’ve learned a lot.”

“Thank you.” She glances at the vanity, then back at me.

“You know, I’ve actually had morticians reach out and ask me stuff I didn’t have answers to.

Would you maybe want to do a video with me sometime?

” Her voice rises to a pleading lilt. “We could give tips, de-mystify what you do a little. Make it less scary.”

“I’d love that!” Breathe, Margot. “If you think it won’t turn your viewers off.”

She shrugs. “If they don’t like it, they don’t have to watch.” She flicks her gaze to Shelby. “I’m trying to give fewer flocks about what other people think of me these days.”

“Dang right. Other peoples’ opinions about us ain’t our business.” Shelby pumps her fist in the air. “That’s why Rooster and Jigsaw get to monitor all the comments on our socials for us now. I’m settin’ clear boundaries and protecting my peace.”

“Okay.” Serena claps her hands. “Let me squeeze into my party dress and then we’ll do a group selfie.”

“Do you mind if I borrow your mirror with the good lighting?” I ask.

“Nope. Help yourself.”

I sit and pull out my tube of gloss from my pocket, quickly dabbing it over my lips.

“I have testing applicators if there’s anything of mine you want to try, Margot,” Serena calls out. “Actually, I have this electric blue gel liner that would look amazing with your dress.”

Behind me, Shelby chuckles. “You’re in it now, Margot.”

I smile at her in the mirror.

“Okay, what do you think?” Serena asks. “Is this too Cinderella-ish for a biker clubhouse?”

I turn as Serena steps out of the bathroom—and instant jealousy sets in.

What a stunning dress. Tea-length in a soft powdery blue that shimmers with every step she takes.

The fitted bodice hugs her curves like it was molded to her body, the delicate spaghetti straps barely noticeable against her shoulders.

The skirt flares out in a dramatic swirl, catching the light with a thousand tiny sparkles.

She twirls, just once, and the fabric fans out in a perfect circle around her knees—equal parts fairy tale and glamour.

“Wow,” Shelby breathes out. “It’s too nice for this clubhouse tonight, that’s for sure. With those weird-ass lights Stella insisted on, no one will be able to even see that pretty blue color.”

“It’s breathtaking, Serena,” I add.

Serena grins and smooths her hands over the skirt. “So, not too much?”

“It’s perfect. Don’t you dare change,” Shelby warns. Her lips curl into a teasing smile. “Murder Daddy is going to lose it when he sees you.”

Serena bursts into laughter. “Stop it.”

“Oh my God.” The nickname clicks. “Yes!” I squeal. “You said Murder Daddy, and Grinder immediately jumped in my head. Good one.”

“Right?” Shelby grins.

Serena laughs but her cheeks flush. “You have no idea.”

A little murder doesn’t scare Serena. Good to know.

Serena slips on a pair of strappy, silver high heels, then hurries toward the vanity. She clicks on several of the ring lights, then shuffles through the assorted jars, palettes, and tools spread over the table.

“Here!” She thrusts a tiny pot of bright, royal blue gel liner toward me. “Just a thin line above your upper lashes. It’ll make your eyes pop. Can I?”