stared at a pair of high heels near the bathroom that looked like Donna had just kicked them off when she'd walked through the door. It felt strange to be in her room knowing she was gone. I never met her, but even touching her luggage brought back that moment in the spa when Bebe had stood frozen in front of me.
"Weird," I commented. "Is it strange that I feel like I need to ask Donna's permission before I go searching through her stuff?"
"You mean before you go packing up her stuff," Bebe corrected me.
"That's what I meant." But my real agenda was just that – searching through Donna's things in hopes of finding out who killed her and who wanted to kill me too. "Packing her stuff."
I started in her closet. Donna wasn't the tidiest person, but she wasn't messy like Joy. Sometimes Joy left her clothes out for weeks and then freaked out if I put them back in her closet. She claimed that even though her clothes were strung across her room like a tornado had blown through, she could still find what she needed.
Donna had a couple of designer dresses hanging in her closet, and two pairs of jeans folded on a shelf next to a pair of nude pumps. Bebe ran her fingers over the dresses and sighed. She took one off the rack and looked at the label.
"I'm glad Donna and Lila weren't the same size or I might have had to hide these from her," she said quietly. She waited for me to giggle or even smile, but my mind was faraway. I was looking for something in particular. Donna's phone. "Too soon for jokes?"
"Huh?" I focused on Bebe. "Oh, I'm sorry I guess I was lost in thought."
"You do that a lot," she replied. "At first I thought you were just quiet or maybe a little shy, but I don’t think you hold your tongue because you have nothing to say."
"You're right," I admitted. "I always have plenty to say, believe me."
"It's better that you don't when Lila is around."
"How did you two meet?" I asked her.
"I love that girl, don't get me wrong. It’s just sometimes she can get under my skin." She checked the size of Donna's shoes. "We met at a red carpet event. My father is Harris Bridges, the designer. Lila wore a piece from his collection that night."
"And the rest is history," I finished.
"Exactly."
I left Donna's closet and skimmed through the magazines in her nightstand. She had everything from Vogue to Southern Living. Her bed hadn't been made since the incident and her sheets were wrinkled like she'd been lying in bed the last time she was in her room. I touched one of her pillows and noticed something shiny hiding under the sheets. It was Donna's cell phone.
Bebe continued to look through the clothes in Donna's closet before packing them in her suitcases. She zipped and unzipped the luggage to make sure everything fit. I made sure Bebe was completely out of eyeshot, and I swiped the screen on Donna's phone. It was locked. I tried a few of the obvious pass codes.
1234
4321
1111
"Hey, Bebe," I shouted. "When is Donna's birthday?"
"June fifth, I think. Why?" She paused still sorting through the closet.
"Oh, uh." I looked down at one of Donna's magazines. "I'm looking through horoscopes."
"You do that too?" Bebe laughed from inside the closet. "Have you ever done a psychic reading before? I went to this woman in Atlanta once and she told me I was going to meet my husband at a gas station. Can you believe that? My driver fills the gas tank."
"Crazy," I said as I tried Donna's birthday. My stomach leapt when the screen cleared giving me full access to her messages. I immediately opened up her file of texts, my eyes stopping at the very last one she had received. It was from Franco.
Lila wants you to meet her at the spa early. Cold feet.
I read the text a couple of times before I looked through a few others. I stopped again when Bev's name appeared. Bev , the bridesmaid who somehow managed to escape the wedding from Hell. I quickly pulled out my own phone and copied her number. Donna had called her quite a few times the
"Weird," I commented. "Is it strange that I feel like I need to ask Donna's permission before I go searching through her stuff?"
"You mean before you go packing up her stuff," Bebe corrected me.
"That's what I meant." But my real agenda was just that – searching through Donna's things in hopes of finding out who killed her and who wanted to kill me too. "Packing her stuff."
I started in her closet. Donna wasn't the tidiest person, but she wasn't messy like Joy. Sometimes Joy left her clothes out for weeks and then freaked out if I put them back in her closet. She claimed that even though her clothes were strung across her room like a tornado had blown through, she could still find what she needed.
Donna had a couple of designer dresses hanging in her closet, and two pairs of jeans folded on a shelf next to a pair of nude pumps. Bebe ran her fingers over the dresses and sighed. She took one off the rack and looked at the label.
"I'm glad Donna and Lila weren't the same size or I might have had to hide these from her," she said quietly. She waited for me to giggle or even smile, but my mind was faraway. I was looking for something in particular. Donna's phone. "Too soon for jokes?"
"Huh?" I focused on Bebe. "Oh, I'm sorry I guess I was lost in thought."
"You do that a lot," she replied. "At first I thought you were just quiet or maybe a little shy, but I don’t think you hold your tongue because you have nothing to say."
"You're right," I admitted. "I always have plenty to say, believe me."
"It's better that you don't when Lila is around."
"How did you two meet?" I asked her.
"I love that girl, don't get me wrong. It’s just sometimes she can get under my skin." She checked the size of Donna's shoes. "We met at a red carpet event. My father is Harris Bridges, the designer. Lila wore a piece from his collection that night."
"And the rest is history," I finished.
"Exactly."
I left Donna's closet and skimmed through the magazines in her nightstand. She had everything from Vogue to Southern Living. Her bed hadn't been made since the incident and her sheets were wrinkled like she'd been lying in bed the last time she was in her room. I touched one of her pillows and noticed something shiny hiding under the sheets. It was Donna's cell phone.
Bebe continued to look through the clothes in Donna's closet before packing them in her suitcases. She zipped and unzipped the luggage to make sure everything fit. I made sure Bebe was completely out of eyeshot, and I swiped the screen on Donna's phone. It was locked. I tried a few of the obvious pass codes.
1234
4321
1111
"Hey, Bebe," I shouted. "When is Donna's birthday?"
"June fifth, I think. Why?" She paused still sorting through the closet.
"Oh, uh." I looked down at one of Donna's magazines. "I'm looking through horoscopes."
"You do that too?" Bebe laughed from inside the closet. "Have you ever done a psychic reading before? I went to this woman in Atlanta once and she told me I was going to meet my husband at a gas station. Can you believe that? My driver fills the gas tank."
"Crazy," I said as I tried Donna's birthday. My stomach leapt when the screen cleared giving me full access to her messages. I immediately opened up her file of texts, my eyes stopping at the very last one she had received. It was from Franco.
Lila wants you to meet her at the spa early. Cold feet.
I read the text a couple of times before I looked through a few others. I stopped again when Bev's name appeared. Bev , the bridesmaid who somehow managed to escape the wedding from Hell. I quickly pulled out my own phone and copied her number. Donna had called her quite a few times the
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