The High Tide Club
“Oh-kayyyy,” Brooke said slowly. “But that doesn’t explain the criminal trespass, kidnapping, and aggravated assault charges against you. Do you want to walk us through that?”
“Kelsy posted bail the same night she was arrested!” Brittni exclaimed. “Then she called my cell and left a message saying next time she’d burn down our whole house. So I decided to, like, keep an eye on her. Saturday night, I followed her Camaro, and you know where she went? Right to Wayne’s place! That ho.”
Farrah glanced over at Brooke. “Wayne is Brittni’s boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Whatever,” Farrah said. “Does Wayne still live in those apartments by the school?”
“Uh-uh. He bought an RV, which he parks at his sister’s place. Wayne told me he had to work a late shift Saturday night, but his truck was parked right there in his sister’s driveway. The lying sack of crap. I watched her go in, and five minutes later, I saw the lights in the RV go out, and the next thing you know, that thing was rockin’ back and forth to beat the band.”
“Uh-oh,” Farrah said.
“Right then, I think I might have had, like, an outer body experience,” Brittni said. “I, like, lost control. Next thing you know, I was running over to the cab of the RV. I was just gonna bang on the side to scare them, but the keys were in the ignition, so I fired it up and floored it. Who knew a twelve-year-old Winnebago could do sixty on a dirt road? I could hear Wayne and Kelsy bouncing around back there and hollering at me to stop, but it was like the devil took hold of me. You know how that is, right?”
“Uh, no,” Brooke said.
“Wayne came up front, buck naked, and he was trying to yank the wheel away from me, and then Kelsy was right on top of me too, pulling my hair and screaming at me to stop, and while I was trying to fight her off and defend myself, the RV went off the road and slammed into a pecan tree. The airbags deployed, and I was knocked unconscious. And when I came to, all I saw was blue lights and gold badges.”
“Okay,” Brooke said. “Do you still have Kelsy’s message on your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Forward that to me. That’s called making terroristic threats. Serious stuff. If she came onto your property without permission, that’s trespassing. How much damage did the flaming dog poop do?”
“A lot!” Brittni said. “The fire spread from the porch to the carport, and the whole thing collapsed on top of my stepdad’s 1968 El Camino, which he’s been restoring.”
“All good stuff,” Brooke said. “I’ve got to get back to the office now, but I’m going to call the district attorney and offer to show him the video of Kelsy trying to burn down your house, and I’ll let him know about the threats too, and hopefully he’ll see that this was just a love triangle gone wrong. In the meantime, if they do drop the charges, I’d urge you to stay away from Kelsy.”
“She’d better stay the hell away from me too,” Brittni said, glowering.
* * *
Charla Miles was waiting outside when Farrah and Brooke emerged from the jail.
“How’d it go?” she asked, handing an envelope to Farrah.
“As well as can be expected,” Brooke reported. “I’ll speak to the district attorney and see if we can’t work out something that doesn’t involve jail time. Best-case scenario, Brittni pays for the damage to the RV, does some community service hours, and takes some anger management classes.”
Charla threw her arms around Farrah and hugged her tight. “Thank God!”
“No, Aunt Charla,” Farrah said, “thank Brooke. And don’t forget, if she gets Brittni off without doing any more jail time, you agreed to let her represent you on your next divorce.” She handed the envelope of money to Brooke.
“I won’t forget,” Charla said. “Martin’s so mad about Brittni getting his El Camino burned up, I could be callin’ y’all any day now.”
When they returned to the office, Brooke spotted an envelope lying on the middle of her desktop. The envelope had the official seal of the University of Georgia.
“What’s this?” she asked, turning to Farrah.
“Oh my God, I almost forgot with all of Brittni’s drama!” Farrah exclaimed. “I did it, Brooke. I got in! I got into UGA!”
She grabbed both of Brooke’s hands and the two of them hopped up and down in an impromptu happy dance. “We did it!” Farrah shouted.
“You did it,” Brooke corrected. “Yaaaay!”
They were both out of breath and laughing and crying at the end of the dance.
“I told you so. I knew you’d get in, but I thought you said you weren’t going to apply,” Brooke said with a mock-accusing tone.
“I just told everybody that, so that way, when I got rejected, nobody but me would know,” Farrah said. “I didn’t even tell my mom. Or Jaxson, which I felt kind of guilty about.”
“Jaxson’s not an issue anymore, right?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. He wants us to get back together. He’s been texting me, and I’ve seen him drive by the house a bunch of times at night. I think he’s checking up on me.”
Brooke knew better than to give unsolicited advice, but she couldn’t help herself. “Farrah, please listen to me. You’ve got such an incredible, bright future ahead of you. I hate to see you tether yourself to your hometown honey.”
“I didn’t say I was getting back with him.”
“But you’re thinking about it. And if he’s texting you, he’s going to come around begging you to take him back. And he’ll make you feel guilty about going off to school in Athens and leaving him behind. And the next thing you know, you’ll think about what he wants, instead of what you need.”
Farrah’s phone dinged. She took it out of the pocket of her jeans, read the text, typed something rapidly, and pushed Send.
“Okay, I’m ready to get to work,” she announced, sitting at her desk and powering up her computer.
“Was that Jaxson?”
Farrah nodded but didn’t look up from the document she’d just opened.
“Did you tell him you didn’t want to get back together with him?” Brooke asked.
The girl still didn’t look up. “Brooke?”
“Yes?”
“Not another word.”
Brooke’s own cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID screen. It was Gabe Wynant.
She glanced at Farrah, picked up the phone, and headed for the powder room, which was, for her, the equivalent of a conference room. She closed the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and answered. “Hi, Gabe!”
* * *
“I know it’s last minute, but is there any way you could sit for Henry tonight?” she asked Farrah, trying desperately to sound casual.
“Sure. I could use the extra money. UGA ain’t cheap, ya know.” She flashed a big grin.
“Great. Why don’t you come over around 6:30? I’ll fix something for dinner for you and Henry, and you can give him a bath and get him ready for bed before I leave around 7:00.”
“That’s fine. But you’re going out on a weeknight?”
“Yes.”
“Business meeting?”
“Not exactly. More like an, uh, date.”