It took all of Lina’s flinty determination to remain focused on painting her fingernails a deep inky blue. Madge was practically dancing around the attic, spouting off ideas to destroy the Gregorys. Lina wasn’t sure what it was about Rose McCaan, but she couldn’t quite trust her. Everyone had an agenda, an angle. So what was Rose’s? She wasn’t friends with Willa. Not the way the rest of them were. Her mother was a Club employee working for the Captain, and her dad was the detective who had let James Gregory walk free. There was no way she would be willing to risk her parents for some girl she barely even knew. There was something she wasn’t telling them. Something she was hiding. Lina was sure of it.
“It’s perfect. We’ll plan something epic, and they’ll lose everything. No more country club, no more inheritance. Nothing.” Madge’s face glowed in the flickering light of the candles. “And after they’ve lost it all, maybe then the truth will come out. Maybe they’ll finally pay.”
“But how …” The words were barely past Rose’s lips before Sloane tactlessly interrupted.
“So … we’re going to steal all their money?”
Lina’s fingers tensed around the bottle of nail polish. Her eyes snapped to Rose, daring her to react. Just try it. Lina had put a lot of time and effort into training herself to ignore the things in her life that she couldn’t control, so she didn’t really see much point in this War. After years of doing everything she could to get her parents’ attention (including but not limited to: chopping off all of her ridiculously long black hair and dying it white-blonde, getting tattoos that snaked up and down her arms, and carefully creating a reputation for being a total slut), she had come to terms with their complete ambivalence about their only daughter’s well-being. She learned to forget that she even had parents.
When they’d pulled Willa’s body out of the lake, Lina knew just as well as everyone else on that yacht that James Gregory had killed one of her best friends. What she also knew was that talking to the police would result in her exile from the Club. And the Club was all Lina had. So she ignored that, too. And, of course, her lips were sealed for reasons she’d never be able to admit to herself—let alone anyone else.
She understood why Madge wanted revenge. She wanted to punish the Gregorys just as much. But Lina made it a point never to fight losing battles, and there was no doubt in her mind that they were going to fail miserably. She’d handed Madge her money and she’d be there for her friends. There was no way she was going to bail after what happened to Willa, but that didn’t mean she had to put up with bullshit from this new girl. To make matters worse, Rose clearly didn’t know what to make of Sloane.
When they were ten, Lina was the only girl not invited to Carlisle McCord’s birthday party. Sloane faked a stomachache, and they’d lounged around Sloane’s house slurping homemade chicken noodle soup at Mrs. Liu’s insistence. When Lina’s parents failed to show before winter holiday at Rennert, her boarding school, the headmistress made arrangements for her to board over break—that is, until Sloane drove all the way up to collect her. It was the best Christmas she could remember, filled with more pie than anyone needed, roaring fires, and presents with Lina hand-written on tags as though she’d been part of the Liu family since birth. Sloane guarded Lina silently. Her rescues were never discussed. They just happened. Protect and be protected. So, yeah, she’d be damned if she was going to let some trashy event planner’s daughter mock Sloane. But as Lina opened her mouth to answer Sloane’s ridiculous question, Madge beat her to it.
“No one’s stealing anything.” Even in her frenzied state Madge was careful to be patient with Sloane. “We’re just going to show the Captain that his grandsons are a couple of assholes undeserving of his precious inheritance. And hopefully reveal the fact that James is a cold-blooded murderer at the same time.”
“Easier said than done,” Lina mumbled under her breath.
Madge must not have heard her. Or she was just ignoring her. Either way she dragged Rose over to a pair of chairs situated near the wall and began whispering plans.
Lina felt a quick stab of jealousy. She had always been the person Madge planned with. The idea girl. But ever since everything with Willa, things had changed. Madge was distant. Distracted. Lina tried not to be hurt. The girl’s stepsister had just died, after all. Madge had every right to retreat within herself, to mourn and hide in private. But as Lina watched Madge and Rose beneath her lowered lashes, she wondered if perhaps she was being replaced. There was something about the way Rose kept touching the key around her neck that made Lina want to scream. Why couldn’t anyone else see that this girl couldn’t be trusted?
“Lina, Lina, ballerina why so quiet?” Sloane plopped down on the couch and knocked the bottle of blue polish over, splattering it across Lina’s legs and the hem of her shift dress.
“Jesus!” The word was out of Lina’s mouth before she could bite it back. She shot up from the couch and started dabbing at the blue streaks of paint with a discarded beach towel. Lina couldn’t have given two shits about the dress. She had dozens more just like it in her closet, but the muddy blue mess at the end of her fingertips burst a delicate bubble of rage inside her. Her nails were always perfect. Well, they were since Willa died, anyway. Lina remembered when she and Willa stayed up all night trying to create the perfect ombre manicure. Willa had found some article online with step-by-step instructions. But they’d kept bumping their nails against the coffee table or accidentally smudging them when reaching into the big white bowl that sat between them for a handful of popcorn. Madge had made fun of them for walking around with salt smudged nails the next day, but they laughed and said it only added to the effect. If Willa were there she would have already convinced Lina that the nail polish splattered across her dress and over the tips of her fingers was a fashion statement.
But Willa was dead.
Tears sprang to Lina’s eyes.
“I’m sorry … I just … I need some air.” She backed out of the room and rushed down the stairway, hurtling into the parlor, not caring if anyone saw—then out the French doors to one of the Club’s massive patios. She bent over as though she’d be sick.
The voice came from a shadowed stoop in front of one of the side doors. Lina squinted through the darkness but could only make out the red tip of a cigarette and a long pair of legs, crossed at the ankles. But then the girl leaned forward, catching the light, and Lina recognized her wavy hair immediately. Mari. The waitress who was supposedly involved with Trip Gregory. Lina hadn’t seen her around the Club since the Fourth. She had heard she’d been fired … which was fine by her.
“I’m fine,” Lina said. “Leave me alone.” She turned to go back inside. It wasn’t the first time this girl had stumbled upon Lina, and there was no way she was up for a repeat performance of what had happened on the Gregorys’ yacht. Not tonight.
“Wait.” Mari exhaled a cloud of smoke and dropped the butt to the ground, grinding out the ash with her sandal. “We need to talk. About that night …”
Lina whirled around. “I have nothing to say to you. Go find Trip. Talk to him. You guys seem to have plenty to discuss.” Her stony mask was firmly back in place and she noted with satisfaction how each word cut into her target like tiny darts. Mari wasn’t worth her time.
Lina pressed her shoulders back as far as she could and turned back toward the entrance of the Club, forcing the bones of her back to jut out like wings as she walked. She was Lina Winthrop. She was tough. She was strong. She took what she wanted and didn’t give a shit about what anyone said or thought.
“You know where to find me when you’re ready to talk,” the girl called after her.
Despite herself, Lina turned one more time. But there was no evidence of Mari, save for the cigarette butt that still smoldered on the concrete.
Find me. The words echoed in her head.
Suddenly she had the perfect idea for their first battle. For the first time that night a small smile played across Lina’s face, and when she climbed the stairs back up to the attic, she felt a surge of adrenaline snake its way through her veins. Lina Winthrop was back in the driver’s seat. It would only be a matter of time before she was looking at the crumpled forms of James and Trip Gregory in her rearview mirror.