Book To Read
Chapter 44
Remington must have hightailed it out of there in the dead of night. In the video, the guy’s trench coat was flapping in the sea breeze as he weaved through the bustling crowd, looking all frosty and serious.
Lizetta let out a sigh. No clue when he’d be back, but it was crystal clear this divorce wasn’t happening today.
Right then, she got a message from Yolanda.
[Don’t come back yet.]
Half an hour later, Lizetta got another message from Yolanda, and she rushed home, bursting through the door with urgent questions.
“What’s gone down?”
“People from the Dashiell Group showed up. Look at this.”
Yolanda nodded toward the coffee table, where a business card and a few printed contracts were laid out. It was all about that gig for Evelina, where Lizetta had used Yolanda’s info online.
Lizetta wasn’t surprised they’d come knocking. “Did they give you a hard time?”
Yolanda shrugged, “Just the usual stick–and–carrot tactics. Pfft, as if I’m buying it. They think they can ruin my future and get me kicked out of school? The Dashiell family ain’t exactly mobsters.”
Lizetta’s expression turned somber. The Dashiell family might not be mobsters, but they sure had their ways.
If they decided to cut off someone’s air supply, squashing little fish like them wouldn’t even cause a ripple.
She was kicking herself for not busting Evelina’s hand yesterday, making it impossible for her to ever play the violin again. That’d show her for stealing tunes.
“Let her play, then,” Lizetta tossed the contract back on the table.
Yolanda blinked, annoyed, “Why should she get to play? Who’s scared of a little showdown?”
Lizetta cracked a smile instead, “Tell them the tune’s not for sale, but Evelina can have a one–time performance license for 200 grand.” NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.
She was itching to see what kind of hot mess Evelina would make of it.
Yolanda’s eyes bulged, “Haha. 200 grand for a one–time gig? That’s a real bargain for Bitch Evelina! I’m on it.”
After shooting off an email, she reached out to Lizetta, “Where’s the divorce paper, c’mon, hand
14:07
it over. Gotta Taunt it on Facebook and find some new prospects white I’m at it
Lizetta plopped down on the sofa. “Didn’t go through: Remington’s left the country.)
Yolanda beld back, but couldn’t help cursing.
“Figures, jerks like him never play it straight! Off on a trip, laving the groundwork for his side chick while dragging his feet on the divorce, You could make a bulletproof vest out of his thick skin and it’d stop a nuke! What a fricking showott!”
Evelina sported when she heard about the 200–grand for a one–time license,
“Poor composer, what a money grab! But at least she’s sensible,”
It wasn’t her money anyway, she just cared about the outcome, and she was in a pretty good mood.
April joked, “Probably got greedy once they saw Mi. Dashiell’s people. These so–called composers act all high and mighty, but throw enough cash and they fold faster than anyone.”
*200 grand for a one–time performance right? Later, we can spin it as Mr. Dashiell’s favoritism toward you. Won’t that just kill people
Evelina’s eyes lit up, “You better get a good putt piece written, and let everyone know just how greedy that composer is.”
April was a pro at this game of stepping on one and touting another. She nodded, “Got it. You practice with the violin; it’s been a while,”
Evelina hadn’t touched the violin since returning home; her mind was no longer on playing.
April handed her the violin, and Evelina reluctantly struck a pose. The violin screeched, and she tossed it aside, her face contorted with pain and irritation.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s all Lizetta, that bitch’s fault; my arm and hand are killing me. I’m done practicing!”
The bruises from the beating hadn’t faded, and Evelina’s face twisted with hatred. She remembered Elara sneaking a peek at Lizetta’s childhood dance competition videos the other night after meeting her, and her jealousy burned even hotter, venom in her eyes,
If only Lizetta’s legs were ruined!
Remington had vanished without a trace, and only after a day did he send Lizella a message,
[Major project accident, left the country, return date uncertain.]
Lizetta, fuming, promptly blocked him.
A week flew by, autumn rains unceasing. The air in Zion City had turned decidedly chilly.
Lizetta left without taking any designer clothes from the wardrobe; they were meant for Mrs. Dashiell, not for her.
So, Yolanda took advantage of the weekend to drag Lizetta out shopping. They entered the mall, and Yolanda, arm in arm with Lizetta, made a beeline for a familiar shoe store.
“You’ve gotta wear soft, flat shoes now, ditch the old ones. We’ll buy a couple of pairs today.”
Lizetta nodded, “Sure, sure, I’ll follow your lead.”
She tried on a pair of ballet flats while Yolanda spotted another unique pair and dashed off.
Lizetta stood up, taking a few steps to see if they pinched, not noticing a wet spot on the floor that had been missed by the mop.
She stepped on it, her feet slipped out from under her, and she crashed backward.
“Liz!”
Yolanda caught it out of the corner of her eye and nearly had a heart attack. Lizetta was pregnant, and this fall could very well mean the end for the baby.