Feels Like Falling - Kristy Woodson Harvey Page 0,96
pretty much sums it up.”
I couldn’t believe it. A couple of months ago, I was homeless, single, jobless, and utterly alone in the world. And now, I was engaged, pregnant, and had family coming out my ears. It was such a huge reminder that, even when the chips are down, life can change in an instant.
CHAPTER 18
gray: the kool-aid
“So is your sister in jail often?” Price asked as we stepped into his car.
“Used to be,” I said under my breath.
“What?”
“She used to get in trouble kind of a lot, and then she found this man who I swear is a cult leader, drank the Kool-Aid, and runs around tossing pamphlets in everyone’s faces.”
“Pamphlets, huh?”
I pulled the visor down and checked my lip gloss in the mirror, though I’m not sure why. Maybe in case I needed to sweet-talk someone to get my sister out of the slammer. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Yeah, you know, like on abstinence before marriage, even though she slept with everyone on the Eastern Seaboard before this transformation. Pamphlets about how I’m going to hell because I’m getting divorced. You know, light reading like that.”
I was trying to be cool and a little snarky, but inside I was reeling. What in the hell had my sister done? Was she okay? Was this Elijah-related? Did I need a lawyer for her? Yeah, she’d done me wrong, but Diana was right. It didn’t matter what she did. I was her big sister, and it was my job to pick up the pieces, whatever they might be.
I laughed in spite of my nerves, and Price joined me. “So, this is impressive, right? I mean, I’m sure you’re just dying to take me out now.”
“Actually,” he said, “this is the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
“That is sad,” I said, checking my phone again. “Let’s talk about something else. Let’s pretend that we are driving to, say, a movie, not to pick my sister up from jail.”
“Great,” he said. “So, do you prefer Charmin or Angel Soft?”
“What?”
He glanced over at me and grinned. “These are the important questions. I lived with a woman for fifteen years who liked Angel Soft. So every day for fifteen years I had to wipe my ass with a toilet paper I hated. It’s just toilet paper, but, damn. I’m not going back to that.”
I laughed. “Who the hell likes Angel Soft? Charmin all day, baby. But I do switch it up between ultra soft and ultra strong, you know, just to keep things interesting.”
Price stopped at a red light and looked at me, wide-eyed in amazement. “Me too. I mean, sometimes you need softness and sometimes you need strength.”
“Paper towels?” I asked.
“Ninety percent Bounty, ten percent Viva.”
“Oh my gosh,” I said. “Me too.”
“Christmas or Fourth of July?” he asked.
We looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Christmas.”
“Cats or dogs?” I asked.
“Neither,” he said definitively. “I’ve spent years cleaning up after kids; I don’t need one more thing in the mix.”
“Preach.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the Charleston Police Department. My stomach gripped as I noticed rows of police cars all in a straight line. Price put the car in park. “Let’s go get that sister of yours.”
“Is it bad that I can’t wait to rub this in her face?”
“Sounds to me like she has it coming.”
“Hello,” I said sunnily as soon as we entered, walking up to the desk. “I’m here to pick up my sister, Quinn Taylor.”
The woman nodded, nonplussed.
“What’s she in for anyway?”
The woman smirked. “Stabbing someone.”
“What?” Now my heart was racing. I hadn’t imagined she was in for something serious. I looked at Price. “I swear, it’s normally stuff like public drunkenness or skinny-dipping or possession or something. She’s not like a criminal criminal.”
“Oh yeah,” Price said. “Doesn’t sound like it.” He looked at me skeptically.
A few minutes later, Quinn appeared, looking contrite. I didn’t even know what to say to her, but she spoke first. “Thank you so much, Gray. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
She looked at Price and then back at me, and I could tell she was about to say something, but she refrained. I squeezed the top of her arm and pulled her into the corner. “Stabbing, Quinn? Seriously? What in the hell is wrong with you? Where did Sister Mary Quinn go?”
“It was self-defense,” she said. “Turns out Elijah wasn’t exactly who I thought he was.”
“They never are, honey,” Price chimed in. “They never are.”