When I made my way out of the bathroom, I headed straight for the dance floor and closed my eyes. My brain worked overtime to shut out the past seven days of my life.
Arrested on suspicion of murder and interrogated for sixty-eight hours straight by professional skeptics. That was bad enough, terrifying and humiliating to be sure, it was not an experience I wanted to repeat. But it was what came after that truly broke my heart.
Being disowned by my parents was more humiliating than the entire Glitz Police Department thinking I was not only capable of killing—but actually killing my own priest. But nothing had wiped out that memory, not even the bass that shook so loud I couldn’t tell if I was breathing or holding my breath. I seemed destined to relive over and over the one moment in my life I couldn’t seem to forget.
Or escape.
“I’ll help you pack a few bags.”
Maisie had been waiting for me outside the police station like the good best friend she was with a hot cup of coffee and a sympathetic smile. She drove me home but only on the condition that I return with her to Ashby Manor for a few days at least.
“Great, thanks, Maze. Just remember I have a few job interviews so don’t just pack club clothes or sexy stuff.”
Maisie smirked and rolled her eyes. “Did you add some sexy things to your wardrobe while I wasn’t watching?” Her laughter helped ease the tension from hours of questioning and accusations. “And if so, I’m insulted that I didn’t get the joy of shopping with you while you bought it.”
Because that was Maisie, happy when others were happy. At least when I was. “Not sexy, no, but not appropriate for an interview either.”
We both stepped out of the car and walked up the familiar path to the over-the-top Tudor style house that was my parents’ pride and joy. The door was locked.
I stamped my foot in a mock tantrum. “The door is never locked.”
Maisie rolled her eyes. “Something I still can’t believe you guys think is all right.”
“It’s Glitz, not Vegas, Maze.”
“Vegas is right next door, and I’ll remind you that no place is free of crime little lady.” Her cowboy accent brought a smile to my face, but it died quickly in the next few seconds.
Faith, our housekeeper, opened the door with a stoic expression on her face. “Ms. Byrne. Your parents have instructed that you are allowed to take some clothes and other essentials, but you are no longer welcome here.” Her stiff tone was the first clue that it wasn’t a joke. A sick cruel joke would be beyond my parents’ capability. But straight up cruelty was right in their wheel house.
“What the fu—,” Maisie started but I stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.
“What do you mean I’m no longer welcome here? This is my house!” And my parents had refused to come home to help me, insisting they were doing God’s work where they were. “Where am I supposed to go?”
Sympathy flashed in her eyes, but Faith quickly blinked it away. “I’m so sorry Miss Bonnie. There are shelters available. Perhaps Ms. Nilsson is happy to provide you with a place to stay.”
Maisie barked out a laugh and pushed inside past Faith with a snort. “Abso-fucking-lutely she can stay with me. Come on Bonnie, let’s get your shit and put this mausoleum in the rear view!”
I knew Maisie was trying to keep the mood light for me, but it didn’t work. My heart sank and bile rose in my throat as the betrayal from my family washed over me. Betrayal. Lies. Hypocrisy. It was all too much, and I did the only thing I could.
I cried.
I cried and cried while Maisie packed up bags for me, more bags that she probably should have as she roared that they were assholes who didn’t deserve me.
“If they’re so worried about what you take then they should’ve been here to watch over you.”
She was right, and even if she wasn’t, I didn’t have the energy to argue the point. So I nodded and watched through tear-filled eyes as she packed. “Maisie, please.”
“Sorry but it’s true. You can stay with me at Ashby Manor as long as you need to, and if you don’t feel comfortable there, Max and Jana will put you up.”
From Catholic princess who did everything right, to a homeless couch surfer who had nothing. This was the fresh hell that had become my life.
I danced with my eyes closed until the lights came on and the late night stragglers, the ones going home alone or too trashed to realize the night was over, were herded out by curiously good looking bouncers.
“Hey sweetheart, let me buy you one last drink.” The voice was deep and smooth like butter so I turned with a wobbly smile, but he didn’t seem to mind.