“Look, it’s Taneea,” Cooper says.
“Where?” I twist my head to see where he’s pointing.
“Ta who?” Jack asks, craning his neck. “Oh. Dang.” His eyes look as if they’re about to pop from their sockets.
There she is on the sidewalk, in giant black sunglasses, texting on her iPhone. She’s wearing yet another statement piece, a curve-hugging, black mini-tank dress and bright pink platform espadrilles that perfectly match her fuchsia streaks. The diamond stud above her lip glints in the sun.
Where’s Miss Delia? I scan both sides of the street to see if she’s parked her great-grandmother on the sidewalk. But the only things I see are a pair of wrens hopping around the base of a small turkey oak foraging for insects. Out of nowhere, a big, fat crow dives out of the sky, aiming for the tawny little birds, scaring them into flight. The crow squawks in triumph as it flies away, its raspy call so loud it resonates all the way down the block.
“Who is she?” Jack leans over me to get a good look. “And how do you two know her when I don’t?”
“We met yesterday,” Cooper says. “She’s Miss Delia’s great-granddaughter. From Chicago.”
“What’s she doing here?” Jack asks.
“Apparently hard time,” I mumble under my breath because I know it’s not exactly charitable to be so mean. But given the move she tried to make on Cooper yesterday, she totally deserves it.
“Officially she’s here to help Miss Delia for the summer,” Cooper says, ever the optimist and proponent of the bright side.
“Unofficially it’s because her mom kicked her out,” I add.
Jack’s eyes brighten with understanding. “That explains a lot.” His eyes travel the lengthy distance between her eyebrow ring and hot pink toenails.
Just then, a big, old-looking black car with dark tinted windows pulls up to the curb. Taneea smiles and tosses her cell into her oversize black leather bag. Flipping her shaggy bangs, she prances around to the passenger side, opens the door, and disappears inside. The engine revs then speeds down the street.
Cooper scratches his temple. “After all she said yesterday, I didn’t think she knew anyone down here.”
“I guess she made a friend,” I say. Based on that getup of hers, it probably wasn’t hard.
Jack laughs as he shoves the supplies in the trunk. “Wow, I bet she’s a ton of fun.”
I watch as the car disappears from sight. “Or a bucket of crazy. Doesn’t she know not to climb into a car with a stranger?”
“Maybe she’s lonely,” Cooper says. “What do you think, Jack? She’s available. You’re available. Maybe you two should hang out. You’re a little weird, but you’re safer than a random dude with tinted windows.”
Jack’s smile slips. “No thanks.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s not that. Ever since Maggie, you know, left, I’ve sworn off chicks.”
Maggie didn’t leave so much as disappear. Literally. Because she was a ghost, killed nearly three hundred years ago by Bloody Bill and his pirates. And until we broke The Creep, she was his girlfriend.
“Breakups suck, bro,” Cooper says. “Maybe a new girlfriend is what you need to get over her.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get over her.” Jack’s voice is quiet. “At least not yet.”
Chapter Five
Back at the Big House, we haul in Dad’s supplies. Something smashes down the hall.
Tensing, Cooper shoots me a look. Without a word, he gently sets down his can of joint compound. Following his lead, Jack and I place our bags on the ground.
Another crash sounds, followed by a yelp.
Jack rakes his fingers through his thick, black hair. “Aw, man. Now what?”
Together we creep through the foyer, past the library. Another bang, followed by a thunk. Whatever it is, it’s coming from the great room with the picture windows that overlook St. Helena Sound. Picking up our pace, we sprint past Beau’s private study and burst through the double French doors at the end of the hall.
We stop short.
“What the—” Jack’s jaw drops.
Missy is trashing the place. Standing on a stepladder in her spiky heels, she yanks books from the wall-length case in a frenzy, tossing them blindly behind her into the middle of the room. Each leather-bound volume lands with a clunk, crashing into whatever is in its path. A porcelain lamp sails off a side table, smashing to pieces when it hits the planked floor.
But that’s not the only damage. The sofas have been stripped of their cushions, which are scattered around the room, their zippers ripped open and batting yanked out. Window fixtures hang cockeyed as if wrenched from the wall and the drapes lie in heaps on the floor. Every desk and side table drawer has been pulled free, their contents upended.
Cooper rushes to her. “Missy! What are you doing?”
She turns to him, her shiny blue eyes crazed and glossy. “Get out of here!” Her normally silky platinum hair is wild and frayed and looks remarkably like a bird nest. Pink lipstick is smeared across her mouth, the bright color extending beyond her lip line.
“No. This is my house, too.”
“I’m the Mistress of the Plantation, and what I say goes!” Her voice is shrill. With a grunt, she reaches for another volume and flings it. It soars across the room, bounces off a disemboweled throw pillow, and plunks against the sideboard along the wall.
“Please get down before you get hurt.” Cooper’s voice is soft but stern as he reaches up to clasp her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” She glares and jerks away, shifting her weight and wobbling the stepladder. Off balance, she overcorrects and tips forward, then topples to the ground. Jack and I sprint forward. She wails. “See what you made me do?”
Cooper’s eyes stretch wide. “I tried to help you!”
Despite the anger in his gaze, he reaches his hand to lift her up.
And that’s why I love Cooper Beaumont. As wretched as Missy has been to him, and as much as I know he detests her, he still manages to be compassionate.
Swatting him away, she scrambles off the floor, then rubs her butt and elbow. “I don’t need your help. It’s not like y’all can find what I need anyway.” Her lips twist into a sneer as she turns her back and rummages through a cabinet beneath the built-in bookcase.
“Could we try?” Though as I survey the wreckage, I’m not sure where to start.
“No thanks, Edith,” she says, calling me the wrong name as usual. “I’ll handle it myself. Can’t trust anybody to do anything right around here.” She yanks a stack of folders from the cabinet and tosses them aside.
Jack grinds his teeth as he flashes me a look. We both know who really runs this place and it’s definitely not Missy. He’s somewhere in this house no doubt fixing another of her messes. But pointing that out would cause Dad more trouble than it’s worth.
“Why are you tearing everything apart?” Cooper asks.
Crawling away from the now-empty cabinet, she moves on to the next. “That’s none of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. These are my family’s things. Some of them antiques that stretch back centuries.” He stoops to pick up a jagged piece of an old brown spirits bottle that used to sit on the shelf. “You broke this. And I want to know why.” His words are hard and laced with bitterness.
She wheels around and stands, her hands planted on her hips. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Cooper’s eyes meet mine. I shrug. Jack does the same.
Cooper shakes his head. “No.”