Rid momentarily considered her thigh-high boots and her halter dress—more than a few bandages shy of a true bandage dress—and waggled one long red nail. “Now, now. No harlot shaming. Haven’t you heard? There’s a Democrat in the White House, ma’am.”
Mrs. Lincoln gasped.
Ridley smiled. Her mood was improving. It felt good to mix it up with the Mortals. Flex the old chainsaw mouth.
Being good Ridley was so dull that sometimes she was tempted to make new friends just so she could lose them later.
“Lay off, Rid.” Link turned to his mom, taking the poster out of her hand. “Rid’s here to say good-bye. You might cut her some slack, seein’ as she’s not comin’ to Georgia Redeemer with me. Especially seein’ as you wrote all those letters to the Board to make sure.”
Mrs. Lincoln forced a smile onto her face. “No, she certainly is not. She would burst into flames if she set one foot on a good Christian campus, and don’t you forget it.”
“Jesus loves everyone, Mom.”
Mrs. Lincoln scowled at Ridley. “That right there is the one child Jesus forgot.”
Link tried to keep a straight face. Nothing made his mom madder than a smile or a sass during a beatdown. “I don’t know about that. They gotta call it Redeemer for a reason.”
“I promise you, she’s not it. Do not so much as dial her number.” Mrs. Lincoln was almost turning purple.
“That’s not really your business,” Link said sulkily.
“Oh, you can bet your sweet corncakes it is. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the CEO a your business, Wesley Lincoln.”
“I’m just here to see you off,” Ridley said, sweet as pie.
First things first.
Ridley was here to get her boyfriend back, and she intended to get the job done.
Link held out his hand to her. She looked at it. “A handshake? What do you want me to do with that?”
“Sayin’ good-bye, I guess. Like you said.” He reached for her hand with a smile and a wink. “See ya around, Rid. Been nice knowin’ you.”
Ridley took his hand. Mrs. Lincoln’s eyes narrowed. Ridley yanked Link toward her, grabbing his face with both hands. She tilted his head and kissed him so hard that his toes curled and his face turned bright red.
Almost as red as his mother’s.
It was the kind of kiss that had made Sirens famous, the kind of kiss that stung worse than a whole army of wasps—the kind that made you forget your own name and your destiny. The kind that could make a sailor steer his ship straight into the rocks.
Until he would be the one wearing the bandages, Rid thought, with more than a little satisfaction. Or at least, pride in workmanship. She didn’t have a tongue long trained by years of cherry lollipops for nothing.
Then, as quickly as Ridley had caught him, she threw him back, breathless and stammering. When she pulled away, Link looked like he was going to pass out.
“Bye, then,” Rid said sweetly.
Link stumbled toward his car. His mother came after him with two open arms, then let them drop, disgusted.
“Well, Wesley Lincoln, are you happy now? What kind a mother could kiss her own son after a sordid display like that?” Mrs. Lincoln snapped. “You’d better go in the house and wash your mouth out or I’ll never be able to kiss you again.”
“Aww now, wouldn’t that be a shame,” Ridley purred.
Five minutes later, Rid stood on the sidewalk and watched as the Beater drove away. The Who—she thought it was “Teenage Wasteland”—drifted through the air in its wake, almost like the sound track to the end of the movie that had been Link’s crappy life in Gatlin.
Mrs. Lincoln sniffed, blotting her eyes with her handkerchief.
Ridley clapped her on the back. “Well, Mamma. I guess I should be off, too.” She ducked to Mrs. Lincoln’s cheek and kissed it loudly, leaving behind a red smear. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you, Mrs. L? Seein’ as we’re bound to be family, any day now.” She leaned toward the woman who hated her more than all the banned books in the Gatlin County Library combined. “You know he’s saving for a ring, don’t you?”
Mrs. Lincoln could barely speak. “Get off my property, you little hussy.”
Ridley wiggled her fingers, the Binding Ring still on her hand. How about this one? She couldn’t resist flexing a little Siren power on Link’s repulsive mother.
Mrs. Lincoln’s face turned purple, but she couldn’t get out whatever hideous thing it was that she wanted to say.
Ridley smiled. “Love you, too, Mamma. Can’t wait to inherit your good china!” She blew Mrs. Lincoln a kiss and walked straight through her best flower bed, kicking up dirt as she went.
Ridley climbed back into her MINI and laughed to herself all the way down Route 9, her pink scarf flapping happily in the wind behind her.
By the time Ridley caught up to the Beater, Link was parked at the BP gas station on the edge of town and leaning on the hood.
Rid honked and rolled down her window, reaching into her ashtray to hold up the torn corner of his old Star Wars poster. “You forgot something.”
Link grinned, taking the scrap of poster from her. “I think you gave my mother a heart attack.”
“Just wanted to give her a little something to remember me by. She’s really starting to warm up to me.” Ridley smiled, pulling down her sun visor to gloss her red lips in its mirror.
“Think you overshot a little? My mom will probably be having nightmares for the next three months.”
“Only three? You sure know how to hurt a girl, Hot Rod.” She pursed her lips. Link just stared.
Bandage dress, two. Wesley Lincoln, zero.
“Speaking of good-bye, you think your mom bought it?” She looked at Link.
“Yeah, she bought it.” Link grinned. “Hook, line, and Redeemer. I’m a free man.” He had been planning his escape for months. Everything, even the fake acceptance letter from the fake church college, had been gone over a thousand times. Link’s practice at forging notes in high school had finally paid off.
Enough. It’s time. Rid snapped her mirror shut. “And what was that handshake about? Did you really think your mom would believe we were just friends?”
“Why not? Aren’t we?” Link leaned back over the edge of the car.
Ridley turned off the motor. “That all depends.” She pushed open her car door, shoving Link backward as it swung away from her. Then she sauntered around the car and untied her scarf, slowly dropping it on the backseat.
It’s like dancing sometimes. Even if only one of you can hear the music.
“Where are you goin’?” Link watched her, suspicious.
Ridley didn’t answer. She just bent over to pop open the trunk of the car, pausing to make sure Link caught the view. Tight dress. Thigh-high boots. Just the way Heaven intended her to look.
One.
Two.
Three.
Now.
Ridley pulled out three identical Louis Vuitton bags and handed them to Link, one after another. From the look on his face, she could tell he’d caught the view, all right.
She’d closed the deal. Now all that was left was to break the news to the boy.
Rid walked up to the gas station attendant and handed him her keys. “My car goes back in the carriage house at Ravenwood Manor. Park it as far away from my Uncle Macon’s hearse as possible. My cousin drives that thing like a maniac.” She grabbed his hand. “And I was never here.”
Rid didn’t even need a lollipop anymore, not for most folks in Gatlin. She had a reputation, which was even more powerful. The attendant swallowed and nodded. He took the keys and disappeared back into the garage.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” Link stared at Rid. “You’re comin’ to New York with me?”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to Georgia Redeemer with you.”
Link tried not to smile. “You’re serious?”
Surprisingly, Ridley found she had to try just as hard.
“As the grave.”
He took a deep breath. “You and me?”
“You see another Siren standing here?” She took a steadying breath herself. “Or you got a problem with that?”
Ridley knew there were a lot of things Link could have said at that moment. He could’ve asked Rid about her change of heart. He could’ve pointed out how she had given John hell for following Liv to England. He could’ve cited their endless non-fight, their big breakup.
Breakups.
But Link didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he gave her a smile as wide as the Mississippi River.
“Well,” Link said.
“Yep,” Rid said.
“I guess we should—”