I tossed up my hands. “Fine. Drive two-hundred miles round trip just to play with your shiny toy.”
“I think we shall,” Neil said with an infuriating grin.
We unloaded our luggage ourselves and dragged it inside, and Neil promised Tony he’d be ready in fifteen minutes.
I didn’t laugh when Neil said that, but I could have. The man took at least twenty minutes to pick out his shoes in the morning. Going to a fancy restaurant—
Crap.
While Neil was changing, I quickly texted Mom, tell tony fancy place jacket required.
Then, I called up Holli.
“This is so weird,” she said in lieu of “hello”. “This is my best friend’s number, but my best friend hasn’t called or texted in like a week, so I know she’s dead…”
“Very funny.”
“Oh my god, are you her murderer?” Holli faked a gasp then laughed. “What’s up, you bitch? Why the radio silence?”
“I was back home. You knew that.” I was sure Deja had done plenty of complaining about my absence. Not that she wasn’t entitled to; I really didn’t show up to work as often as I should.
“Oh, I forgot there’s absolutely no cell reception in Michigan.”
“Listen, do you want to bitch at me, or do you want to bring your wife out here and hang with me and my mom in her amazing hot tub?” I hoped it was the latter. I missed my BFF like macaroni missed cheese.
“Deja’s having dinner with some clients. Why aren’t you?” Holli asked.
Yeah, why aren’t I? “They must have set that meeting up while I was gone. But you’re still invited!”
“Ugh. You’re all the way out there,” she complained. “And I’m not a very good driver…”
I rolled my eyes, even though she wouldn’t see it. “Can you be at the helipad in an hour?”
“I’m getting my suit and my keys, and I’m already at the door,” she promised.
I hung up with her and texted Mom, Holli’s coming. She replied with a row of heart-eyed smiley faces. Her enthusiasm was likely influenced by the prospect of showing off her ring. Then, I called our helicopter service. Being as far from the city as we were, it made sense to constantly have a crew on standby. At least, that was what Neil said. I’d gotten used to our wealth, but “necessary standby helicopter” was still something of a foreign concept to me. And our neighbors certainly did not appreciate the noise.
But it came in handy when I wanted to see my bestie on short notice.
Neil came into the kitchen, holding two pairs of nearly identical black loafers. “Which ones? The Mantellassi or the Santoni?”
“The left,” I decided after a quick perusal. They were a cool black that complemented his navy blue windowpane-print sports coat. “You’re looking very previously-on-Hannibal this evening. When did you buy that?”
“Rudy picked it out for me. Do you think I pull it off?” He frowned and tugged at the cuff. “I can’t tell if he’s taking the piss or if he really thinks it suits me.”
I went to his side and rose on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You look very handsome. And hip.”
“I think I’m too old to be hip, but thank you for flattering me.”
“You’re fifty-four. Sting is sixty-five, and he’s still cool,” I pointed out.
Neil made a noncommittal noise. “I’m going to just pop in and give Olivia a kiss goodnight. Don’t wait up for me if you’re too tired.”
“Okay, Mr. I’m-too-old-to-exist,” I teased. “But you’re not the only one who’s going to be out partying.”
He smiled to himself as he checked his cufflinks. “Does your mother’s hot tub really count as ‘out partying’? It seems a bit more like staying in and getting drunk off your ass.”
“If it’s not my house, it’s going out,” I insisted. Besides, I never drank in our house. Not a drop of alcohol passed our threshold, anymore. Neil had been sober for over a year, but that sobriety was still tenuous. When I came back to the house tonight, I would brush my teeth and use mouthwash to get the scent off my breath.
“Be safe,” he warned, leaning down to kiss my forehead
“I’ll have parental supervision,” I reminded him, and reached up to boop his nose. “All you’ll have is Rudy.”
Neil’s face resisted his smart-ass smile. “That’s not true. My father-in-law will be there.”
****
My mom dresses for the hot tub like she’s Mariah Carey conducting a poolside interview. Hair curled, makeup touched up, giant sunglasses on top of her head, despite the fact the pool area was shaded, she came out of the house with a sixer of Mike’s in each hand, her long, sheer caftan billowing behind her as she walked.
“Are those jelly heels?” Holli gasped, reaching up for the hard lemonade Mom offered her.
I took one and pressed it to my forehead. We’d gone into the water ahead of Mom, and I’d just hit the sweating stage. Of course, I looked wilted while Holli sat there gorgeous and waif-thin in her Day-Glo pink bikini.