“This is really sweet of you.” I take the roller and have to admit that while I do doubt its magical healing power, it does smell amazing. “But I have a therapist and a Xanax prescription at home for when my anxiety gets totally out of control. I’m okay.”
I can see how my ranting and raving today could make it seem like I’m already out of control, but my therapist has been encouraging me to voice my feelings instead of pushing them away. I want to feel my anger today. It’s the only thing fueling my determination to get back at Nate rather than folding to his demands.
“If you’re sure, then that’s all I need to hear.” She sounds doubtful but doesn’t push it. One more reason for me to like this woman.
Plus, now I feel content knowing that even if she does join MLMs, she’s much too gentle and kind to get totally invested. I’ll just have to distract her with my endless drama and keep her too busy to fall prey to the boss babes and hustle-harder girlies who would, no doubt, eat her alive. It’s my duty as a dedicated friend and civil servant to be as petty as humanly possible.
“So, about Nate . . .” I bring the conversation back to the topic at hand. “You know him better than I do. How do we get him to back down?”
I’ll save my revenge fantasies for Ruby. I don’t want to pervert Ashleigh’s pure mind with the many ways I want to make Nate cry.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m still surprised he’s doing this to you. He was so nice when we worked with him to find this house. I didn’t think he had something like this in him.”
I contemplate filling her in on my serial killer theory, but Ruby warned me against it. Something about libel and defamation if I warned the neighborhood to stay alert.
Blah blah blah.
Whatever.
“Oh, he definitely has it in him.”
I’ve known it since I was sixteen. Nate’s always had this facade of being some laid-back guy who doesn’t care what people think of him, when in reality, he’s consumed by it. And he’s willing to do anything, to use anyone, to get where he wants to go. I just don’t understand how that place is living alone in the suburbs and on the homeowners’ association board.
“Ruby said what he’s doing is illegal. Are you considering taking it to the authorities?” She bites her lip as if even thinking about the ramifications is making her nervous. I almost hand her my miracle roller to help her relax.
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “Nate might be a giant asshole, but not even I’m willing to escalate our feud to that level. I want to embarrass him, not ruin his life.”
He’s gone way too far by bringing my parents’ home into it, but if I’m honest, I still have my doubts that he’ll act on it. All I need to do is push him and force him to admit that he’s full of shit.
“He made it seem like he was so invested in making this community feel like a family. He said it was why he joined the HOA, to make sure everything was open and easily accessible in case anyone had any concerns. I can’t believe I fell for that,” Ashleigh says. “Ugh. What a jerk.”
As the light dawns on Ashleigh about Nate’s true character, an idea starts to form in the back of my mind.
“What did he want to make open and accessible?” I ask. “The HOA?”
“Um . . . yeah.” She nods and her brows furrow together. “Most HOA boards only have a few meetings and nobody ever knows about them. Nate convinced the other members to host monthly meetings. They post the schedule in the Reserve at Horizon Creek Facebook group.”
There really is a Facebook group for everything.
“Can you check and see when the next meeting is?”
“Sure,” she says.
She grabs her phone and starts tapping around on the screen. As I wait, my skin begins to buzz the way it used to when the first embers of a new story idea started to burn. My brain spins and turns, plotting out endless possibilities while I wait for Ashleigh to find any information.
“Oh!” She shoves her phone in my face, pointing to the screen with her pink polished nail. “There’s one coming up soon!”
I take my time reading through the post, scanning over all the comments and rolling my eyes at Nate’s pompous replies. His skill for well-placed snark is truly remarkable.
I hand Ashleigh back her phone when I’m finished. My shoulders, which had been aching from hunching over my laptop, feel fantastic. The stress headache pounding away at my skull for the last four hours magically disappears. Any ailment can be cured by the simple pleasure of a well-formed plan and the potential of publicly humiliating my enemy.
Who needs essential oils when you have bad intentions and vengeful ideations?
“I hope you don’t have plans this Friday,” I say to my new friend, “because we have an HOA board meeting to crash.”
Chapter 7
When I moved to Los Angeles, I did my best to avoid the sun whenever possible. This means I frequently skipped out on beach days and if I did manage to be coerced to hang poolside, I made sure not only to slather my body in sunscreen, but also to wear a hat so large it was mistaken for an umbrella a time or two.
Sure, they may say Black don’t crack, but that doesn’t mean that Black can’t get skin cancer. Plus, my Black has been cut in half and I don’t want to test the strength of my Irish genes.
So it’s safe to assume that if I avoided the stunning waterscapes in California, I for damn sure wasn’t spending my summer days lounging by the pool at the Reserve at Horizon Creek. In fact, aside from the one time my mom forced me to go to a bridal shower for one of her church friend’s daughters, I’ve stepped foot in the clubhouse approximately two, maybe three, times tops.
“Wow.” I take in the space, which is a far cry from the dingy carpet and beige walls of my memories. The hardwood floors gleam beneath modern light fixtures with large area rugs sectioning off the space. A coffee bar with a mini fridge filled with creamers sits along the far wall, and now I know where I’ll be the next time my mom tries to force hazelnut coffee on me. “At least now I know where the HOA fees are going.”
“It’s so nice, isn’t it? You should come with me to the pool,” Ashleigh suggests, oblivious to my disdain for UV rays. “I go on weekday mornings after Grant goes to the office, after swim practice, but before it gets too crowded.”
“As much fun as that sounds—” I start, but I am distracted by the booming laughter I hate to admit I remember so clearly.
I turn toward the sound just in time to see Nate with his head thrown back, a huge smile making him seem years younger spread across his face. I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t look away.
While I might be here on a revenge mission, my heart squeezes with regret and fondness for the boy I once cared for so deeply. I stand frozen, overcome by memories of sitting in my backyard with him and the way my skin would tingle with pleasure when I managed to make him laugh. Even when we were kids, his laughter was elusive, like there was so much hiding beneath his too-cool persona. But before I could figure him out, he upgraded his style . . . and friends.
I turn my attention back to Ashleigh before he can catch me staring.