Devils night, p.17
Devil's Night, page 17
Penny told her what had happened in the last few hours: that her sister Krista was freaking out over something that Scott, the drunken trespasser, had said. He’d seen “somebody else” in the bank. And then this stuff about Penny’s father and his friend who died.
“The thing is,” Penny said, “Krista didn’t like my reaction to their stories. She went on Twitter to tell everyone not to go to the remaining nights of Devil’s Fest.”
Linden glanced up, meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She was looking paler than usual, a sickly color that meant she hadn’t been eating enough. Her appetite vanished whenever she was stressed or sick. Tripp had noticed as well. Are you getting your period? he’d asked that morning at breakfast, nose wrinkling.
He pissed her off sometimes. But Linden had never been into guys who gave her the warm fuzzies. She wanted to be challenged. Stimulated. Tripp never bored her.
She got up and went to the bathroom, opening her makeup case.
“What do you think I should do?” Penny asked.
“Leave it alone. We already put out a statement about the accidents. People will probably assume Krista’s a plant, and we’re just trying to get more publicity.” Linden set jars of foundation, concealer and bronzer on the counter.
“But she’s my sister.”
“This will blow over. We’re beefing up festival security, so everything will be fine. Just relax. Take the night off. Spend some time with Matthew.” Linden swept a finger over her eyebrows, checking for stray hairs in the mirror. “Give him a blowjob or something, I don’t know. He certainly deserves it.”
Penny was laughing—an excellent sign.
“I’ll leave it to your discretion,” Linden said. “Hand job at the very least. Just have a good night. No more worrying about ghosts.”
“Seriously? You don’t need me at the dinner?”
They’d planned a small dinner at a fancy French place for the SunBev execs. “Tripp and I can handle them.”
Penny agreed, and they ended the call. Linden sent off a text to Tripp, confirming their plans for dinner. He texted back a thumb’s up emoji.
Linden washed her face and started applying her makeup. As she worked, she listened for the door to the next room, which would signal Tripp’s return. Maybe he wanted to meet her in the lobby instead. She checked her messages from him, but there was nothing specific. Then again, Tripp often expected her to anticipate what he was thinking.
They’d met through mutual friends not long after Linden graduated from UCLA. He was a product of the exclusive private schools of Pasadena, and then college at the University of Southern California, his parents’ alma mater. But like Linden, he wanted to be so much more than a legacy. When they met, he already had years under his belt as a journalist. His new PR company, capitalizing on his media contacts, was in high demand. But out of all the people in their orbit, Tripp admired her. He courted her, not as a girlfriend but a business partner. And that, frankly, was the sexiest thing of all. They were equals. Well, she was still a junior partner at Sterling PR, and he was five years older. But virtual equals. And wouldn’t it be a victory if she could domesticate a guy like him? It was like conquering Mount Everest, only with way better sex.
She got up and opened the closet, where she’d neatly hung her clothes after relocating from the travel trailer. The hangers clinked as she shuffled them, debating what to wear. She selected a silky black blouse and slipped into a pair of stonewash skinny jeans. It was the kind of outfit she’d wear to a weekend brunch in LA. Nothing that Tripp hadn’t seen before, so she wasn’t trying too hard. Her fingers ran through her long hair, working free the tiny tangles that had developed through the day.
Now, she just had to track down her boyfriend. If she could call him that. He’d made no promises of exclusivity. They weren't openly together, but Linden wasn’t actively hiding it, either. If Penny ever guessed, then Linden wouldn’t deny it. Sometimes, she did wish that Penny would guess. Linden’s mother had, though Mrs. Hao hadn’t been very positive.
The elevator was taking too long, so Linden took the stairs. Her thick-soled loafers thudded against the carpet as she jogged down to the first floor.
As she crossed the lobby, she spotted Tripp. Linden was about to say something when she realized who was next to him—Anvi. She’d thought that Anvi was up at Eden already. Linden hung back, pausing behind a pillar to watch them. There was something about the way they stood that she didn’t like, Tripp going a little too far into Anvi’s space. And Anvi, who normally was so serious, smiled and tilted her head. Was that flirting? She’d never seen Anvi and Tripp interact this way before. Linden wished she could hear what they were saying.
It’s probably nothing, she told herself. They’re just talking shop, like all of us do.
Tripp put his hand on Anvi’s elbow and squeezed. Then he leaned back, saying something more. Anvi nodded, her smile slipping. She didn’t look happy.
Then Tripp headed for the elevator. Anvi went toward the exit, her expression one of shock, tears in her eyes.
Linden waited until Anvi had passed, feeling ridiculous about hiding behind a pillar. It wasn’t her style. She’d never had a problem with confrontation. Her family would have pushed her into submission long ago if it were otherwise.
She walked toward the elevator, intending to catch Tripp on his way up. But then she spotted a phone on the rug. Someone had dropped it. Linden scooped up the device, noticing that the screen was open and unlocked.
She didn’t mean to be nosy. But the text window was right there with Tripp’s name at the top. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. Can we talk more in person? I’m in the lobby.
A flick of Linden’s finger revealed more of the conversation, going back days. Weeks. What happened yesterday in the office, it can’t happen again. But then later, I dreamed about you last night.
A few more clicks, and it was clear that the phone belonged to Anvi.
Linden jumped when she heard Tripp’s voice behind her.
“Ready for dinner? I spoke to Richardson and the others. They’re meeting us at the restaurant.”
She slipped Anvi’s phone into her pocket, turning around. Linden’s face felt numb.
“Of course. Let’s go.”
The SunBev execs hadn’t arrived yet, so Linden and Tripp ordered drinks at the bar. Linden watched the bubbles pop in her glass of champagne. Tripp was more relaxed than he’d been in days. Unlike her or Penny, the accidents last night had barely ruffled him at all. He sipped his Grey Goose martini and smiled. The cuffs and collar of his blue shirt were stiff with starch. He’d worn the Tom Ford cologne Linden had bought for his last birthday.
“What’s going on between you and Anvi?” Linden asked.
He choked on his martini, coughing so much his face turned red. She waited. She asked again, and this time she took Anvi’s phone from her pocket and set it on the bar. She couldn’t unlock it now that the screen had turned off, but he recognized it.
Tripp downed the rest of his martini, then raised a hand at the bartender to order another.
“It’s not what you think.”
“That’s your opening salvo? A cliche?”
“Linden, listen to me. Anvi is a flirtatious girl. She kissed me—once. I should’ve fired her right then, but I thought she could be an asset to Sterling. To us. She’s a natural for this job. You can’t deny that.”
He was right. She couldn’t deny Anvi’s skills. Which were more varied than Linden had imagined. But Tripp was supposed to be the one in charge.
Linden set her glass on the bar, then dug a fifty-dollar bill from her wallet. “Thanks so much,” she said to the bartender, and walked out of the restaurant.
Tripp caught up with her before she’d covered half a block. People were streaming in and out of Ashton’s restaurants. Linden cut down a quieter side street, and Tripp followed.
“Listen,” he said, “I let Anvi go today, just before I met up with you. She’s been calling and texting me way too much. I told her that after Devil’s Fest, she and Sterling PR will have to part ways. It’s time for a change.”
“‘Time for a change,’” Linden parroted. “You know, I think I agree.”
“I would never choose anyone over you. You must know that. With the SunBev account in place and the Dark Energy launch a success, we’re in a much better position. We can cut the dead weight. It’ll be you and me, like at the beginning.”
She stopped, facing him. “Dead weight? Don’t say you’re talking about Penny.”
His shirt had pulled loose from his jeans. Tripp tucked it back. “We don’t need to have this conversation now. I understand how you feel about Penny. I really do. But she’s just not working out. The Devil’s Fest idea was solid, but her performance here hasn’t reassured me. One good idea isn’t enough.”
Linden couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all Penny had done, all the work she’d put in to make Devil’s Fest happen, Tripp was just going to cut her loose?
“Let’s talk about this later,” Tripp said. “After our dinner.”
She looked over. They were being watched. Through a restaurant window, a man stared at her and Tripp, his cheeseburger motionless in his hands. She didn’t know the guy. But suddenly she had an overwhelming sense of clarity, as if she were inside that restaurant, looking out at herself. I’m better than this.
“You can handle the dinner. If they ask, tell the SunBev execs I’m in Eden. Managing their festival.”
She started back toward the inn, chin held high. Tripp let her go.
He obviously didn’t love her. She wondered if her mother had seen this coming—the way she’d never invited Tripp to family gatherings, smiled patronizingly when Linden mentioned him.
No one can know about this, she thought. Maybe she’d lost Tripp, but damned if she’d lose her pride.
Penny was in trouble, though. Linden was still the junior partner. If Tripp really wanted Penny out, then Linden couldn’t do a thing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After her phone call with Linden, Penny went looking for Matthew. She found him in his hotel room. He said, “Come in!” when she knocked.
Matthew lay in his bed with the covers kicked aside. He had his eyes closed when she opened the door. His eyebrows raised when he saw her.
“Oh, hey. I thought you’d be your mom.”
Penny stopped in the doorway. “My mom? That seems a little weird.”
He sat up, rubbing his face. “She’s been checking on me.”
Penny went in, closing the door behind her. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine. But also tired of people asking me that. I was looking for you earlier, but I couldn’t find you.”
“I’ve just been dealing with festival stuff.”
She decided not to tell Matthew about what Krista or her dad had said. Linden was right—more security guards would patrol the festival tonight, and even if ill-intentioned ghosts waited inside those buildings, nothing could happen if the festival-goers kept to authorized areas. Her sister could air her concerns on Twitter, for whatever that was worth, and then she’d calm down enough to see the holes in Scott’s story.
Part of Penny wished she’d been able to do exactly what they wanted, and more—help Scott Mackey get his job back, right all the wrongs done in Eden. She couldn’t, and that was a hard truth to accept.
But maybe she could do something for Matthew.
Penny was about to sit down next to him. But then, Matthew's room phone rang.
“Maybe that’s your mom,” he said.
She glanced at the caller ID. The area code was from out of state. “Only one way to solve this mystery.”
He closed his eyes again. “You answer it. Tell them I’m asleep. Or in Siberia.”
She picked up the handset. “Hello, Matthew’s room. He’s left the country.”
It was someone named Kelsey Richardson. Penny was confused—and just a touch jealous that some woman was calling Matthew—but then Kelsey explained.
She was June’s friend from Phoenix. She’d just gotten to town early that morning, already on her way last night when June fell from the balcony at the Paradise.
“I wanted to surprise her.” Kelsey sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “And then I heard she was hurt. She told me about what Matthew did—how he tried to catch her. June’s going to head back to Arizona as soon as they release her from the hospital. But I just wanted to say thank you. Since June doesn’t feel up to it.”
“Of course.” Penny looked over at Matthew. He was already sitting up, reaching for the phone.
Penny sat on the bed and listened in while he spoke to Kelsey. June didn’t want to talk to anyone. No wonder the nurses hadn’t let Penny see her. Even Kelsey couldn’t get an explanation for what happened last night—why June had been on the second floor of the hotel—but clearly, June was mortified about disrupting the festival. Matthew passed on his cell number in case June changed her mind and wanted to talk.
Penny stopped him before he hung up. “Could I say one more thing?”
She took the phone and said to Kelsey, “Hey, this is Penny Wright again. We’re having that closing-night party tomorrow. If June doesn’t feel well enough, I get it, but just tell her she’s welcome. I hope she’ll still come.”
Kelsey sighed. “I really don’t know. But I’ll tell her.”
Kelsey ended the call, and Penny replaced the handset. She and Matthew were quiet a moment. Penny thought about June, and how she wished she could understand what happened last night. But if June didn’t want to open up, there was little else that Penny could do.
“Are you heading back up to Eden soon?” Matthew asked.
She folded her legs beneath her. “I have the night off. Actually, I had an idea. I want to do something for you, if you’ll let me.”
“For me?”
It wasn’t Linden’s suggestion that had convinced her. He’d been so supportive and helped her pull off this event, despite his personal feelings about it. Not to mention saving June, and therefore the rest of Devil’s Fest. Though she would not show her appreciation through sexual favors, as much as Linden would enjoy getting those details tomorrow. And as much as it might be enjoyable for all parties involved.
Penny struggled to keep a straight face as these thoughts passed through her head.
“I know you don’t like being called a hero,” she said. “But at least let me try to even things out between us.”
His expression told her she’d chosen the wrong words. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Okay, then forget I said that. I want to do something for you because…” She glanced at the rug. “I care about you, and I want to spend time with you. But only if you feel up to it.”
He seemed to mull this over. But then, a small smile betrayed him. “As long as you’re gentle with me.”
So his mind had gone there, too. She felt her cheeks color. “I was thinking about what you said earlier. Your mom? Seeing her in the house?”
He groaned, easing back against his pillow.
“I was hoping you might forget I said that. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
“But I’m already dragged, so you might as well let me help.”
“Penny…”
“Please. I need this, too.”
He looked up, meeting her eyes.
“You told me a few days ago, here in this room, that I could help people with my ability. I could do something good.”
There had to be some reason that the universe made her this way. Something more than being a witness to suffering. If Matthew believed it was possible, then maybe she could believe it too.
“Besides,” Penny added, “if you can move back into your house, then you’ll be free of my mother.”
“I really don’t mind your mom. I get to eat Dora’s cooking.”
“Just come with me. Let me look around your house and see what I can see.” Once they were there, he’d probably get over his hesitation.
He looked at her for several long seconds. Heat stirred inside of her. She was very aware they were sitting together on his bed. And now, after what Linden had said, she had all sorts of images playing out in her mind.
“I’ll drive.” She needed to get out of this room before she did something foolish.
He kicked his legs off the bed. “Okay, I’ll come with you. But I’m not going in, so don’t get your hopes up.”
They pulled into Matthew’s driveway. The sun was sinking; the second night of Devil’s Fest would begin in just a few hours. Penny tried to put it out of her mind.
She put his truck in park and turned off the engine. Matthew made no move to leave.
“We’ll have to get out of this car at some point,” she said.
“You do. Or we can go back to the inn.”
“At least walk me to the door.”
She got out. His house was much as she remembered it. Ranch style, single story, built in the mid-century. The grass was neatly mowed, and petunias grew in the flower beds beneath the porch. Matthew’s mom had planted them every year when spring came.
The car door slammed, and Matthew approached behind her.
“You have landscapers plant flowers?” she asked. “Even though you don’t live here anymore?”
“I plant them. I don’t go inside, but that doesn’t mean I don’t come here. I mow the lawn, keep the sprinklers going in the summer. I do what I can. I wouldn’t want her to look out here and see…well, I want it to look the same.”
“It does.”
Matthew and his mom had lived here since he moved to Ashton in middle school. Penny had always enjoyed the contrast of Matthew’s home with her own. The inn was a grand, sprawling place full of rich woods and dark brick. But Matthew’s house was light and airy, full of windows. It had a stacked-stone front wall and a slanted roofline.
She took his left hand and together they walked up the steps. He was just standing there, so Penny took the keys and unlocked the door. She stepped inside. No lights were on, but the home still had the airiness she’d loved. It didn’t smell the way she remembered—Mrs. Larsen’s curried chicken, the snickerdoodles that she always seemed to have on hand. This house smelled of cleaning fluid and emptiness.
