Chapter 3
I turned the key in the lock.
The laughter inside stopped dead.
Isabella was standing in front of the full-length mirror, draped in that vivid red silk dress.
Avery was right behind her, his hand on her waist, clearly fussing with the zipper.
As soon as they spotted me, they sprang apart like they'd been shocked.
"C-Claire? Why are you home already?" Isabella blurted out, her voice trembling.
Avery quickly wiped his face, looking flustered, his eyes darting around the room.
"Isabella just came over... to check out the dress design. She said it looked gorgeous and wanted to use it as a reference," Avery stammered, clearly flustered.
Isabella quickly realized what was happening and rushed to take off the dress.
In her haste, there was a sharp tear as the fabric ripped.
The pricey silk split open along the side of her waist, leaving a gash in the material.
"Oh!" Isabella cried out, clutching her waist as tears immediately started streaming down her face.
"I'm so sorry, Claire. I didn't mean to... I'll take it off right now," Isabella said, her voice choked with tears.
I didn't say a word.
I set my bag down and watched them put on their little show in silence.
Seeing me stay quiet, Avery probably thought I'd let it slide like I always did.
Avery finally relaxed, reaching out to grab my hand.
"Honey, go wash up. I made your favorite chicken tonight. And this dress is the big surprise I told you about!" He gestured at the red dress Isabella had just stripped off and tossed onto the couch.
It was red as blood, lying there like a fresh wound.
"I had it brought in from the city. It cost me half a month's pay. Isabella was just helping you try it on for size," Avery added.
I walked over, calm and collected.
With two fingers, I pinched up the dress.
Inside the collar was a stain, about the size of a fingernail.
It was a smudged yellow mark, a smear of foundation makeup.
"Trying it on for size?" I scoffed.
I lifted the dress to my nose.
The smell was cloying and cheap.
"Did you really need to drown it in perfume to try it on? Smells just like what she was wearing at the office today," I said.
Avery stepped back abruptly.
"What are you talking about? What perfume?" Avery demanded.
His voice went up, tense and loud.
That was the telltale sign of a guilty conscience.
"Claire, why are you getting so paranoid all of a sudden? I went out of my way to buy you a gift, and not only do you not appreciate it, but now you're suspecting me!" Avery snapped.
He snatched the dress from my hands and shoved it back into the bag, not caring at all.
"If you don't like it, toss it! Just forget I ever got it for you!" he snapped.
Then he flung the spatula onto the floor.
It clattered loudly.
"You're impossible!" Avery shouted.
Isabella stood in her slip, trembling.
"Claire, please don't blame Avery. It's all my fault..." Isabella pleaded.
"You're right. It is your fault," I replied.
I stared at her.
"You ruin my things and think you can just walk away? Shouldn't you pay up?" I asked.
Isabella froze, stunned.
Avery was left speechless.
"This dress cost 40 dollars," I said, my voice icy.
I held out my hand.
I demanded, "Pay up."
Isabella gave Avery a helpless, pleading look.
Avery's face went dark. He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and slapped it onto the coffee table.
"Here! Take it! Happy now?" he snapped.
I counted the bills.
Right on the dot, 40 dollars.
I slipped the money into my pocket.
"Alright, let's eat. The chicken's getting cold," I said coolly.
I sat down and grabbed a piece of chicken.
I put it in my mouth.
It was so sweet that it almost tasted bitter.
"Avery," I swallowed the meat and said, "why does this chicken taste kind of off?"
"Impossible. It was butchered this morning," Avery shot back.
He immediately grabbed a piece and took a bite.
"Tastes fine to me. Smells good, actually," he said.
I set my fork down.
I stared him straight in the eye.
"Yeah, smells great," I said, my tone flat.
It tasted just like you, Avery.
All polished on the outside, but rotten to the core underneath.
Suddenly, there was an urgent banging at the door.
It wasn't knocking.
It was pounding.
"Mr. Stone! Mr. Stone, are you in there?"
It was Nina from the workshop, her voice shaky and on the verge of tears.
"Mr. Stone! Something's happened in the tech department. It's bad."