Three played a 'Wicked Game.' Now, it's time for round two.
One will fight. One will meet The Maker. And one will try to keep them all safe.
The world may be black and white but to win this game, they'll have to play in the gray.
Harper was sure of one thing, sleuthing made her hungry. Hell, everything made her hungry. Sleeping. Walking. Breathing. It all had her stomach growling like a caged lion. The tarragon and rosemary called to her like a siren's song as soon as she breezed in her house. She followed the herby air's trail to the kitchen.
She slammed the door behind her, kicked off her converse without untying them—almost tripping in the process. Her head would've clonked the side of the table in the foyer if her hands weren't quick but who could blame her, she smelled steak. Harper applauded Faith's resilience to slash off all meat from her menu but she didn't have that same control. Her mouth was already watering before stepping in the kitchen.
"Oh! Look who decided to show up." Rouge called over her shoulder before reaching into the top cabinet. "Now, that the food's almost done," she latched her hands around the massively round chocolate plates.
"I wasn't avoiding cooking," She sidled next to the island by Keegan, the five-year-old shredded lacinato kale leaves like she was tearing construction paper. "I just had to clear up some things with Isa and couldn't pedal fast enough. I'm not the bionic woman."
"Taste, Harpiee." Keegan pushed the giant leaf of kale in her face."
"Nah," She turned up her nose at the greenery but took the veggie out of the little girl's hand. She no longer cringed at the nickname given to her by her youngest sister. The little one didn't know the connotations of the word but Rouge did and she snickered every time, just like now as she carted the eatery outside.
"We're eating on the patio." Harper peered over at her mama by the stove. "I thought the dining room table was where families reconnect," It was the slogan her mama torted ever since she read a parenting book three years ago. A book Malachi's mom loaned her. At least she wasn't the only one required to be home for dinner during the summer months in Evening.
"I hope that's not sarcasm," Her mom glimpsed back at her, with a face free of the make-up she adorned all day, Kieran was still beautiful. It was astounding to Harper why her beautifully mocha hued mama wore makeup when her face was perfection—dark eyes like onyx, pillowy lips that once gave her a million kisses before bedtime, and eyelashes that made butterfly's jealous. "Noah's grilling and when we grill—"
"We feast outside," Harper finished the saying her stepfather uttered every time he clicked on the grill. She rolled her eyes then feeling Keegan's eyes on her, she fixed her lips into a faux smile.
It wasn't that she had anything against Noah. In all honesty, she didn't really know the man. He just rubbed her the wrong way. How did a boat builder land a billionaire mogul like her mama? Harper didn't understand it. Yeah, he was handsome with his sun-kissed espresso skin, muscled psyche, and Jamaican accent. But he wasn't her dad. Maybe that was the problem? He wasn't her dad and when he came into the picture she was sent off the boarding school.
"What's the matter with you?" Her mama questioned, turning away from the stove with her hand circled around the skillet handle. Harper eyed the sauteed broccoli florets glazed in butter and sprinkled with cayenne pepper and turmeric—the way she liked them. "You love food and not having to cook. You should be dabbing."
Harper frown at her mama's attempt to staying hype. "Nothing." She helped Keegan grab up the kale from the countertop and drop it into the wooden salad bowl.
"Don't lie to me, Harper." Her mom stopped scooping the broccoli in the serving bowl to give her a pensive, peer into your eyes and read your soul stare. "I know when you're lying."
Harper grunted. "It's not a big deal." She glared out the windows to see Noah flipping over a steak at the grill and Rouge sipping a ginger beer with her feet dangling in the pool. "Where's Mason?"
"Getting his hair braided." Keegan offered before dumping the whole container of feta cheese into the bowl. "Opps!"
"It'll be fine," Their mom said, not looking at the bowl. Her eyes were still trained on Harper. "You're up to something. Are you doing things that you shouldn't be doing? Adult things. I know Malachi is a handsome fella."
"La la la..." Harper cupped her hands over her ears trying hard to her the thing her mama was saying. She knew the picture she was illustrating and didn't want to go down the avenue. "I'm not having....you know....with anyone." Once her mama's lips stopped moving she uncovered her ears. "I'm not that lucky."
"Please." Her mama waved her words off with a flick of her wrist. "You're not ready if you can't say the word."
"Because there's a child sitting right here." She gestured to Keegan trying her best to stir the salad. Harper took the big spoons from the girl and finished the task. "I don't want to taint her innocence."
"Not taint yours either." Her mama dropped the bowl in the sink. "Keke, go get your brother. It's time to eat, Dre'll just have to finish after."
Keegan leaped off the chair and dashed out the kitchen yelling the boy's name.
"I don't think Dre will complain," Harper added, drizzling dried cranberries in the salad. "He loves free food."
"Hmm." Her mama sounded pulling a pan from the oven. The smell was familiar to Harper. It was the very aroma that greeted her at the front door and she licked her lips at the sight of the roasted, golden potatoes.
Her mama turned back to the island with the pan, "Sex is something you do with the right person and if he's not—"
"Mama! Stop." Harper held up the palms of her hands. "It's not even about that, I told you. It's about Isabeth and her lies."
"Hmm," Her mama sounded again. "Well, is it a lie that pertains to you."
"What?"
"I mean is she lying about something that deals with your friendship?"
"She's lying to me, period. We're best friends. We're supposed to tell each other everything."
Her mama shook her head, "Sometimes there are issues that don't involve you and doesn't require your involvement."
"Friends don't have secrets," Harper said concretely with narrowed eyes.
"Everyone has secrets, baby girl." Her mama deposited the potatoes in a serving bowl. "And if you dwell on the secrets of everyone, you'll drive yourself crazy. Trust me. I know."
"I got him!" Keegan yelled running back in the kitchen.
"Good." Their mama said grabbing up the serving bowls. "Now, let's eat."
"You coming," Keegan called out as she followed behind their mama.
"Yeah," Harper answered, grabbing the salad bowl. Just as she neared the patio her phone blared.
She dug the device out of her pocket to read the screen.
Breaking News: The eldest son and heir of Fallstone Beverages, Dalton Fallstone, was found dead this afternoon in an apparent suicide, says a close family friend. Police are investigating.
The salad bowl tumbled from Harper's hand to thud against the floor and Harper dropped to her knees in a silent cry.
Did Dalton commit suicide?
How will this impact Harper's sleuthing? Make her stop or fuel her curiosity?
Why do you think Harper isn't fond of Noah?
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