Stella rolled her eyes. “Don’t even go there. You make one little complaint and for you he changes the workout, but he makes me do the same hideous and extremely difficult program no matter what. And it’s always easy for you. You never sweat and I look like I dove into a swimming pool. My face is lobster red, even my eyelashes have sweat on them, and Miguel is over there helping you up and staring into your big brown eyes.”
The others burst out laughing. Harlow tossed a piece of popcorn at Zahra. “Stella has a point. I work out all the time and you just lie around complaining about how hard it is to run and then you just go out and run, talking the entire time, never running out of air or things to say while I’m keeling over.”
Zahra raised her dark eyebrows and stared at them all soberly, looking serious and innocent. None of them were buying into it.
“You’re a flirt too,” Vienna accused. “There isn’t a male in town, no matter the age, who isn’t enamored with you. I was juggling three bags of groceries and you had one. One. Two silly teenage boys come up and it’s, ‘Oh, Zahra, can I carry that for you?’” She used a teen voice and rolled her eyes.
Zahra shrugged and examined her fingernails, a little smirk curving her lips. Even that was attractive. “I can’t help it if these boys are polite, Vienna. You glare at them when they try to help. You speak of women’s independence. I only want to be independent when it suits me. Taking out trash doesn’t suit me. Doing Miguel’s torture exercises and swiping my name badge certainly doesn’t suit me. And I despise running unless I have my dog with me, which I no longer do, so running is a chore. I even hated it then, but I did it for her.”
“I swear, I’m getting you another dog,” Harlow groused.
“I’ve been thinking I should be a cat lady like Vienna. She has a white cat and I’ll get a black cat and call her Matilda.”
“You need a dog to run with you,” Raine said firmly. “Eat another chocolate bar.”
Zahra obediently chose one and took a bite, again moaning as if she were in ecstasy. “Who needs a man when we have Shabina’s bars?”
There was another round of laughter. Stella leaned her head back against the sofa, grateful that she had such good friends. Sam was right, she’d needed them— needed the closeness of them. The laughter they shared. Still, they had gathered for a purpose. She could tell there was an underlying tension that ran between them. They wanted her comfortable and mellow, in a soft, trusting, open mood.
She took one of the chocolate bars and regarded her friends. “You may as well get to the main subject, because I know you want to talk to me about something. None of you has a poker face with the exception of Vienna.” She laughed at her own joke. It was a little significant that none of them really laughed with her. They smiled, but they didn’t laugh. If anything, they looked uneasy.
Stella sat up a little straighter. She looked around Shabina’s living room at all of her friends. They looked troubled, and no one seemed to want to bring up what was bothering them. She looked to Zahra. She never understood what it was about Zahra that she’d gravitated to right from the beginning. They had very different personalities, but she knew, even if it sounded weird, they were soul mates. She could count on Zahra.
“What’s going on? We all have our drinks. We’re comfortable, or should be, but you look like someone is about to do in your best friend. Me, I’ve had a lot of blows the last few weeks, so just get it over with. Tell me.”
The women exchanged long looks between them. Stella took a drink of her margarita and wished she had Bailey to comfort her.
It wasn’t Zahra, but Vienna, who was the one to answer her. “I spoke to Amelia Sanderson, the vet, about Bailey and his wounds.”
Immediately, Stella tensed, fearful Amelia might have given Vienna bad news she wouldn’t have given Stella, maybe long-term effects that Bailey would suffer.
“Given the number of stab wounds on his body, his size and power, the fact that he was stabbed while attacking and yet no major damage was done to his internal organs, whoever used that knife on him had to know what they were doing. They knew anatomy.”
Stella frowned, her eyes on Vienna’s, trying to comprehend what her friend was getting at. “You’re saying whoever stabbed Bailey didn’t want to kill him.”
“Amelia says the attacker had a big knife and he could have killed Bailey, but he didn’t. He punched down about two inches and raked, opening lacerations but avoiding any internal organs. Bailey had charged, probably bit him. There was blood on his teeth. He maybe had one arm in his mouth. The man had to be strong and he had to be calm throughout the entire attack. That takes someone incredibly well trained.”