The Divorcee Murder Club

Diecisiete ~ 17

                Tension digs into my shoulders like Angie is stepping on them with stilettos.

Figuratively, she is. Dropping Alma and Jackson into the mix was a surprise I didn't appreciate. Angie is clearly running the show, but if I'm her partner, if she wants my help, then she needs to include me. Not treat me like some cheap side-piece. I know it's hypocritical, given Richie Ass-Face Reddy is sitting underneath my mother's house. But that's beside the point.

The diner meetup could have gone very sideways, but at least Jackson has some sense and wants a solid plan before moving forward. I'm probably in the dog house because Angie hasn't contacted me in three days, but it's best we have space from each other. Her life is a murky swamp, and right now, I need the brightness of a damn supernova.

So, I'm thankful I still have the mundane normalcy of my day job. Especially when I get to spend it staring at Mindy. It's midweek, and she's here at the gym working out.

And sweaty.

I could lick the moisture off her. However, she seems a little distracted and keeps checking her phone. The Sisters know Richie is missing, which must mean Mindy knows too. Then again, the man is a gaslighting asshole, so he probably ghosts her all the time and then makes her feel like it's her fault.

"Are you working this weekend?" she asks, snapping me out of daydreaming about her spread eagle on my bed.

"Yeah. Friday and Saturday."

"But not Sunday."

"Not Sunday."

"Good." She smiles, and it lights up her hazel eyes like the damn sun bursting through clouds. "I'd like to invite you over for a little party I'm having."

A party? If she knew Richie was missing, I doubt she would be having one. So, I'm hoping this means I still have time to transport him to another location, kill him, and make it look like an accident.

"Just tell me when and where," I say.

"I'll text you the details later." Mindy's gaze lingers, her teeth biting ever so slightly on that bottom lip. "Will I see you in group therapy later?"

"Of course. You know it's my favorite place to be."

"Right," she giggles and spins away with her ponytail whipping behind her.

A smile lingers on my face as I admire her retreating backside, but then it dwindles as I remember I still have important plans to tackle. If I'm going to take control of things, I need to set up a meeting with Alma and Jackson so we can all get on the same page. I reach into my pocket for my phone to text Jackson, but it's already buzzing, and when I look at the screen, I groan. Nothing causes my balls to crawl back inside me like reading messages from Angie.

Angie: Hello, lover. We've got another meeting with the Sisters.

Me: When?

Angie: They haven't said yet, so it looks like we're on standby for confirmation.

Staring at the message, I can't help but rub the back of my neck as it accumulates an anxious sweat. The meeting could be to give us their blessing with Angie's plan, or they figured out I kidnapped Richie and want me dead. Whatever it is, it makes our situation all too real, and something tells me once the Sisters make a decision, there's no going back on it.

Me: Cool.

Except it's not fucking cool, and the gym just became ten times hotter. I wipe my forehead, and my hand comes away, sopping wet. Because let's be honest, how the hell do we plan to commit murder as a group and get away with it? This is why I need to take control instead of having loose-cannon-Angie running the show.