Page 37 of Heartsick & Lipsticks
There were seven quick knocks at the door—dun dun-dundun-dun-dun dun—before it opened and Rihanna walked in. We’d come up with that “secret knock” in kindergarten, and twenty years later, she still used it.
As soon as she heard it, Callie cheered, “Auntie Ri is back!”
A second later, my sister from another mister waltzed in looking like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Vogue, which she had graced the cover of. It was Teen Vogue, but still. Her thick, brown, wavy hair fell down to her waist. She wore a simple white tank top, and dark blue high-waisted straight-legged jeans, and nude ballet flats. The gold chain, Chanel handbag, and Gucci watch took the casual outfit to the next level.
“Hello, my two favorite humans, how are you?” she exclaimed as she pulled my daughter into her arms and kissed her on the top of her head. “I missed you, beautiful!”
Rihanna was everything I wasn’t. She was wild, carefree, adventurous, and outgoing. She wore designer clothes and tried her hand at a new profession every year or so. She traveled to places like Bali, Hong Kong, and Athens regularly. She had a new boyfriend every few weeks and lived aSex in the Citylife that was part Samantha and part Carrie.
If we’d met as adults, I doubt that we would even be friends. But the bond we’d created in preschool was closer than friendship. She and her parents were the only semblance of family I had growing up. Her mom used to pack an extra lunch for me because my mom would either forget or be too hungover to make one. Her dad taught me how to drive stick. Her parents always bought me Christmas and birthday presents.
Sadly, both her parents were killed in a car accident a month after I had Callie. I still missed them, and it broke my heart that they hadn’t seen my daughter grow up.
“Did you hear who mom’s working for?” Callie clapped her hands excitedly.
“Callie,” I warned.
“What? I’m only telling Auntie Ri; she’s family.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that.
“Is that the night job that fucked your vacation?” Ri questioned.
“Rihanna.” I’d warned her so many times not to curse in front of Callie, but she was just as bad as my mom.
She continued despite my use of her full name. “Are you working for someone famous, and youweren’tgoing to tell me?” Ri responded as if it would be the ultimate betrayal.
“I had to sign an NDA.” The truth of why I didn’t want to tell her had nothing to do with the legal ramifications and everything to do with my visceral reaction to Nick Locke. Ri knew me too well. The mention of his name in her presence, and she’d know.
“An NDA!? Okay, now I have to know. Is it an athlete? An actor? Oh, a musician.”
“I’ll give you a hint” Callie grabbed her phone and started playing the podcast.
“That’s more than a hint.” I pointed out.
“Selena Grace!” Ri guessed.
Callie shook her head.
Ri’s eyes widened, and she took two steps backward. She was also very dramatic, something I was not. “Not… no, you’re not… no… Are you working for Nicholas Locke?”
“Yes! She is!” Callie revealed excitedly.
Ri’s jaw dropped, but then it closed again as she made a realization. “Wait, but you…is he…ill?”
“No. He’s not,” I replied. “It’s a family member.”
“Not his daughter.” Ri gasped. “Not Bella!”
“No,” I quickly assured her.
“It’s his mom,” Callie explained.
“His mom?” Ri’s forehead creased. “I thought his mom and dad were both dead.”
“She’s not; she’s been inprison,” Callie whispered the last word, as if that made her saying it any better.
“Callie, go finish your homework.” I knew that she still had some because she’d been signing me up for a dating app when she was supposed to be doing her homework.
