chapter TWENTY
As soon as they walked into one of the hotel’s bars, the bartender immediately grabbed a bottle of forty-year-old scotch.
Bernice held up four fingers and beside the bottle on the bar top was placed four glasses. She grabbed the bottle, the glasses, and moved over to a booth in the far corner. She poured a couple of ounces in each glass before sitting down, keeping the bottle very close to her.
Charlie slid in across from Bernice, and Max sat beside their aunt. Stevie sat next to Charlie.
Grabbing one of the glasses, Bernice held it up and toasted with great sarcasm, “To family.”
She was waiting, so Charlie and her sisters each grabbed a glass, repeated, “To family,” and tapped their glasses against their aunt’s.
Bernice drank her scotch in one gulp before slamming it down on the table and filling it up again.
Charlie took only a sip, knowing she shouldn’t do any hardcore drinking due to the meds she was on for her anxiety.
Max sipped, curled her lip in distaste, and asked one of the waitresses for a bowl of honey roasted peanuts.
Stevie, however, took her scotch in one gulp and the rest of them gawked at her.
She dropped the glass on the table and, when she realized they were all staring, explained, “Seriously? You’re surprised I know how to drink after spending more than a decade around scientists and engineers?”
Not having a response to that, Charlie focused on her aunt. “So, how’s that wedding going?”
Bernice’s eyes narrowed on Charlie and she socked back another gulp of scotch.
“I’m just going to put this out there,” Bernice said, studying her now-empty glass. “I’ve raised a horrible child.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” Max replied.
“But this wedding has to go off without a hitch.”
“Don’t you have a wedding planner?” Stevie asked.
“Of course. The best in the business. A She-tiger who is, to say the least, bitchy. And that Irish whore has been working my last Scottish nerve. Yet, she has been doing an amazing job. There’s just one”—she held up her forefinger—“little problem.”
“The bride?” Max asked, her elbow on the table, her chin resting on her raised fist.
Bernice gave a short nod. “The bride.”
Stevie, perhaps emboldened by the one drink she’d had, suddenly perked up and asked, “I’m sorry but . . . why are we here? We’re not even invited to the wedding. So whether your daughter is being a prick or not . . . I don’t see how that’s our problem.”
Keeping her fist raised, Max moved her face around until she could press the back of her fingers against her mouth, hiding her surprised smile.
Bernice polished off another round of scotch before admitting, “To be blunt, I didn’t invite you two. I invited her.” Charlie saw that finger pointing at her and she wanted to head right for the exit. “Everyone in the family knows about you, Charlie.”
Charlie prepared herself to be insulted. “Knows what?” she asked, sounding defensive even to her own ears.
“That you get shit done. That you can shut down bullshit like no one else. I know you may not realize that because of the problems with your father, but trust me. No one could control that idiot of a man. And you have definitely done better than most.”
“Um . . . thank you? But short of locking Carrie in a dungeon and only releasing her for the wedding so that we can drag her down the aisle by her hair, I’m not sure—”
“That’s an option,” Bernice cut in. “See? Already we’re brainstorming.”
Max sat up straight in her seat, eyes wide, her laughter moments from spilling out.
“An option that I’m not sure is, uh, legal,” Charlie felt the need to point out. “I mean . . . does Carrie want to get married?”
“Yes! Definitely.”
“Okay. That’s good. But maybe I should clarify . . . does she want to get married to the guy who’s showing up on Saturday?”
Bernice glanced off. “Ummmmm . . .”
“If that’s a question you can’t answer in the affirmative right away, then perhaps you should call of the wed—”
“No,” Bernice said immediately, not even letting Charlie finish her sentence. “We are going through with this wedding.” She waved her hands around. “Aliens and dragons could suddenly attack our entire planet, and I’d still make sure this fucking wedding happened.”
“Look, Bernice . . .” Charlie cleared her throat. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your sudden willingness to, uh . . . acknowledge that I exist. But Carrie has sisters and you and . . . unless you just didn’t invite us to the funeral, I’m assuming your husband is still alive. So, you know, getting them to help is probably your best option. Especially since I’m not about to do anything illegal.”
She let out an annoyed sigh. “And?”
“So why am I here?”
“So you can do what you do, Charlie MacKilligan. Remove obstacles. We’ve all watched you over the years. Someone gets in the way of Stevie receiving some fancy scholarship or funding . . . you handle it. When that Wisconsin high school wasn’t going to let Max walk during graduation because of what she did to that cheerleader—”
Max’s smile was almost sweet. “Bobby-Jean Hamilton.” She nodded. “Head cheerleader. Voted most likely to succeed. And I beat the holy hell out of her in the cafeteria.” She gave a little shrug. “You know . . . just because.”
Bernice gestured to Max with both hands. “You see? The school had every right not to let her walk for graduation. But you fixed it. She walked. And I want you to do the same for my little girl. Get her to walk down that aisle before I kill her and have her stuffed and mounted in my home as a warning to the rest of her sisters.”
Charlie focused directly on her aunt, knowing better than to look at Max. She could not look at Max or the laughter would never end.
She began, “Again, I appreciate what you’re going through, but I don’t think—”
“How much?” Stevie suddenly asked.
Charlie turned her body so she could look directly at her sister. “What are you doing?”
“What? She expects you to do this for free?”
“I don’t care if she wants it for free or not. I’m not doing anything. I’m not involving myself in this craziness. Instead, we’re all going to head back to bear street, as I like to call it, and find me something to wear because I think I have a date tonight with a very handsome man who can shift into a thousand-pound beast.” She looked back at Bernice. “So as much as I—”
“I’ll give you fifty thousand.”
Max blinked. “Dollars? American dollars?”
Charlie raised her forefinger. “I already told you, I’m not doing anything illegal. And I’m not killing anybody for you.”
“If I wanted someone dead, I’d hire Max.”
“Awww,” Max said, gently touching Bernice’s forearm. “That’s sweet.”
“Then what would you be giving me fifty grand for?”
“I need you to do what you do so well. Problem-solve. Find that problem. Deal with that problem. Eliminate that problem.” And before Charlie could say anything, she quickly added, “Legally. I want you, Charlie, to do what you do so brilliantly. Fix the fucking problem. Not the wedding-specific stuff. I’m already paying that She-tiger whore a lot of money to make this wedding perfection. I need you to find out where the real problems are. The problems that are going to fuck my life. Find them and fix them.”
“And if I can’t?”
“You still get paid.” When Charlie’s eyes narrowed, Bernice went on, “I know you, Charlie. You’re like your mother. When you commit to something, you don’t walk away. I know if you promise to do your best on this, you will. If my daughter still manages to fuck it up . . . that’s on me. As her mother. And I’ll deal with that in my own way,” she said in a tone that made Charlie worry for her younger cousin.
“What about expenses?” Stevie asked.
Charlie slapped the glass her sister had only drunk from once, sending it flying across the bar. “No more liquor for you!”
“I’m not letting you get screwed over. We’re getting you the best deal.”
“You want to talk deal, Stevie?” Bernice leaned forward, looking directly at Charlie’s baby sister. “I’ll give her twenty-five K up front. Cover all expenses. And no matter what happens, on the day the wedding should take place, I’ll give her the other twenty-five K.” She held up her finger before Stevie could say anything. “But . . . if the wedding does happen. Meaning Carrie and Ronald P. Farmington the Fourth walk down that aisle, say their vows, and leave on their honeymoon at the end of the night, I’ll give her a bonus of thirty-five thousand dollars on top of the fifty.” She glanced at Max. “American dollars.”
Bernice relaxed back in the seat, tossing her hands up before asking, “What ya gotta say now, bitches?”
Stevie nodded at Charlie. “Take it.”
“What are you doing to me?”
“Getting you a job.”
“Stevie, you know that once I’m in—”
“Yeah. You’re committed. I get that. I also know this wedding is to take place this Saturday. Take the fucking money.”
Charlie looked at Max, but she could already guess her sister’s answer.
“Take the money, dude,” Max said.
“All right. I’ll do it. But you two are helping me,” she said to her sisters.
“Why is this our problem?” Max asked.
“I’m not leaving you two with nothing to do in Bear Town. I’m going to keep you both busy. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
Stevie gave a sad sigh and said to Bernice, “She’s right.”
“By the way,” Charlie added for her aunt, “I consider my sisters expenses.”
“Whatever.” Bernice looked at her watch. “All right. I’ve gotta get back to that demon beast I gave birth to.”
Max slid from the booth, allowing her aunt to get out.
“Another thing,” Bernice said before she walked away, “your father—”
“I’ll work with the wedding planner and security about him. You do have security for this event, don’t you? Real security?” When her aunt just stood there, gazing at her, eyes blinking, she said, “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”
She’d clearly been expecting more of a fight before Charlie would take this job, but what was the point of putting up a fight? For that kind of money, Charlie would deal with her father.
Once her aunt left, Stevie asked, “So what are we doing first?”
“Our first step . . . we find out what our bitchy little cousin is doing behind her mother’s back.”
Charlie’s phone vibrated and she pulled it from her back pocket. “Yeah?”
“Hi. It’s Berg.”
She couldn’t help but smile when she heard his voice, relaxing into the leather booth. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Do you have some free time today?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. The Group wants to meet with you, Katzenhaus, and the BPC. I can pick you up and take you there.”
“Where?”
“BPC offices. And you can say no. I’ll back you all the way.”
“Hold on.”
Charlie lowered her phone, “There’s a meeting with the Group later today. Berg says he’ll pick me up.”
“Want me to come with you?” Max suggested. “I can kill everybody . . . get this all done.”
“I could be wrong,” Charlie replied calmly, “but that seems like it would not get this done as much as it would make everything worse.”
Max shrugged. “You may have a point.”
“Thank you. Now you two stay here, start sniffing around the bride. I’ll deal with everything else. And no fucking fighting!”
“Should I call Dutch?” Max asked.
“The traitor?”
“Wow, you’re really not lettin’ that go.”
“Not lettin’ that go. And do what you want. I already kicked his ass. He knows where I stand.” Charlie returned the phone to her ear. “Berg. Tell me where to meet you.”