“No.”
“Brooklyn?”
“No. Forget I told you this. It’s not your fault. I doubt Phillip would divorce her, but in all honesty, they haven’t been a couple since her last break.”
My mind filled with memories of Madison.
The first time we met.
Her innocence and wonder.
She wasn’t tainted the way Lena and I were.
She found delight in the simple things.
Reading, painting, and just life.
We’d been young. I was too young to recognize my obsession with her. Opening Madison up to my family had been the mistake. To her, Phillip was me without the pressure, the drive, or the fixation for more, bigger, and better. She saw what she wanted to see. I supposed she always had until reality stole her rose-colored glasses.
I’d accused Phillip of locking her up. He had. That wasn’t on me.
I was guilty, but I didn’t hold the key. He did.
My behavior may correlate to her fall. That didn’t mean it was the lone cause.
No, that was my jealous brother.
All him.
His envy and lust for what I had.
My gut twisted as I applied Phillip’s desire for revenge to his plans for Julia.
Something he’d said on this morning’s call came back to me. ‘You know what happens when you hit bottom? Absolutely nothing to stop me. Nothing.’
“He wants revenge,” I said to Lena.
“It’s more than that. He wants your life.”
A succession of cars, much like on New Year’s Eve, was lined up to enter the McGrath driveway. I spoke to Michael, “Is there a back entrance?”
My attention went back to Lena. “He can’t have it. And he sure as hell can’t have Julia.”
“Do you want me to call Liv?”
Michael pulled the car up to a gate with a small box.
“No,” I replied. “I’ll let her know if I kill him.” I disconnected our call without more explanation as Michael spoke into the box, saying something about catering supplies. My heart pounded in my chest as the gate moved and we drove onto a wide driveway that faced multiple garages with one door up a set of steps.
Not waiting for Michael or Albert, I hurriedly opened the door and rushed up the stairs as the door opened from within.
Julia
Wearing one of my old robes from the closet, I sat before the large dressing table mirror in the bathroom attached to my bedroom. My hand fluttered near the pearl necklace I was now wearing. Vicki had brought it up, saying it was from Van. She promised to convince him to come upstairs.
As Georgette fretted and combed my long hair into silky waves, I told myself I was only acquiescing to give Vicki time downstairs with Van. Once she talked him into coming upstairs, we’d work this out.
“Darling, you need to condition more.” Georgette’s head shook. “These ends are…” She inhaled and exhaled. “Have you forgotten to use the products I gave you?”