You're Busting My Nuptials (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 2) by Ann Everett Page A

Tizzy, so we can get this over with and get the hell out of here.”
    Rayann returned to her position behind the two women.
    Tizzy read a note attached to the wall. Knock. The doorbell don’t work no more. She lightly tapped, surprised the commotion hadn’t already alerted someone. A woman’s voice came from the other side. “Who is it?”
    “We’re friends of Gwynn’s. May we talk to her a minute?” Tizzy asked.
    The door opened and a small, thin, pasty-faced woman, with wild brown eyes and unruly hair, threw her hands up in surprise. “Omigod, omigod, omigod! You’re wearing pink and pink is my favorite color. This is not a coincidence,” she said, jerking nervously, starting to pace, rattling like an auctioneer.
    “You know Gwynn. How do you know Gwynn? Have you seen Gwynn? Is she with you?” She looked beyond them toward the street.
    Tizzy cut her eyes toward Synola and shrugged. “No, Gwynn’s not with us. We know her from the club. When do you expect her?”
    Rayann peeked around Synola to get a look at the woman.
    “Omigod, omigod, omigod!” The woman shrieked. She ran her hands through her dark hair and picked up her pace. “There are three of you and three is an unlucky number! This is not a coincidence! Omigod, omigod, omigod! Something bad has happened.”
    Tizzy tried to reassure her. “No. Nothing bad has happened. We just need to speak to Gwynn. That’s all.”
    Pasty-face turned in a circle, wringing her hands. “This is bad. This is really bad. There are three of you and three is unlucky. The last time I saw Gwynn was Friday, today is Monday. That’s three days. There are three of you. This is not a coincidence!”
    “Hell, woman, what are you on?” Synola snapped.
    The woman ignored her and continued pacing; now going in a figure eight formation in the doorway.
    “Point me out, Tizzy. You’re losing her.” Jinx said into Tizzy’s ear.
    “Ma’am, settle down. There are not three of us. There are four of us. See,” she said, pointing to the street where Jinx stood. “He’s with us, so that makes four. Is four an unlucky number?”
    The woman stopped, crossed her hands over her chest, and took a deep breath. “Four,” she said with a gasp. “Omigod, omigod, omigod. You’re wearing pink. It’s my favorite color and there are four of you. Four is my lucky number. This is not a coincidence. You’re here to help me find my sister. Aren’t you?”
    “Omigod!” Tizzy said. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. This is not a coincidence. We’re here to help you find Gwynn.” She decided to get on the same wave-length as the woman, which was probably beaming straight from Mars.
    “I knew it, I knew it,” the woman said.
    Tizzy stuck out her hand. “I’m Tizzy, and this is Synola and Rayann. May we come in?”
    “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m not thinking clearly.” She latched on to Tizzy’s hand and pulled her inside. “I’m Ramona. Do y’all perform with Gwynn?”
    “Yes, we do,” Synola said. “She hasn’t been at work, so we got worried about her. You say you haven’t seen her since Friday?”
    Ramona started to pace again, taking Tizzy with her. “That’s right. This is not good. This is not good. She was supposed to perform at a private party and she never came back.”
    Tizzy tried to pull her hand away, but Ramona had it in a death grip. They continued to move around the room, Ramona leading, Tizzy following. “Did Gwynn drive her own car to the party or did someone pick her up?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Where was she working?” Tizzy asked.
    “I don’t remember.”
    “Was the party out of town?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “In Brownsboro, maybe?” Rayann asked.
    Ramona let go of Tizzy’s hand and lifted her eyes toward the ceiling, as if letting the words sink in. “I don’t know.”
    Synola stepped forward and grabbed Ramona by her shoulders. “Stop! Let’s sit down over here and you tell us everything you do