Chapter Text
If someone had told Natalie a year ago that one day, she’d be sitting in a karaoke bar next to Misty Quigley, with Shauna Shipman and Taissa Turner across the table, she’d have asked them to share whatever weird ass acid they’d dropped. But somehow, this is her reality. Somehow, her friendship circle - which formerly extended to mostly herself and occasionally Travis when they were speaking - has expanded by a total of four.
Well, that might be generous. She and Taissa are cool now, for the most part. And every now and then, she’ll text Van to heckle her about whatever her movie recommendation of the week had been. Natalie tolerates Shauna. Mostly because Taissa is always bringing her along and Nat has no room to complain because Misty is usually right behind her everywhere she goes. Not by choice but she’s pretty sure Misty injected her with some kind of tracker the last time Nat fell asleep in her presence.
Internally, Natalie winces. That was probably kind of harsh.
Hell, she’d been the one to tell Misty they were all meeting up tonight. She’d wanted her to come. In fact, she probably would have ditched on the whole thing if Misty hadn’t tagged along. Otherwise, she’d have been forced to deal with Taissa and Shauna alone. And somehow, Misty Quigley has become the person Natalie feels most comfortable with.
They’re even sitting on the same side of the booth they’d commandeered at the back of the bar. Misty is close enough that their thighs are touching and their arms keep brushing every time they move. Natalie thinks about shifting away but decides it isn’t worth the effort. Misty would probably just scoot closer anyway. She does that - drifts toward Natalie like there’s some kind of magnetic pull keeping her from straying.
Things between them have settled into something that’s almost enjoyable ever since they all made it back from Lottie’s little wellness retreat. In fact, everything seems to have settled. No more dead bodies to hide, no more blackmailers or mysterious summons. It feels… normal.
At least, as close to normal as they’re ever going to get.
Except Natalie is still sober and she hasn’t yet felt the itch to pack a bag and get the hell out of New Jersey. She doesn’t feel as restless as she used to, like she has to keep moving or everything will catch up to her. Besides, the motel owner gave her a good deal on a long-term rate for her room and Misty hasn’t done anything insane enough to drive her away yet.
She’s not in a rush.
Natalie may have ditched the purple the second she left Lottie and her cult in the rearview mirror but the weird Zen she’d found there seems to be sticking around. She doesn’t hate it.
Across the table, Shauna and Taissa are being judgey little bitches, snarking about the quality of the performance on stage - like they’re suddenly experts on America’s Got Talent or some shit. Nat, who would define herself as more of a Rage Against the Machine type of girl, privately admits the sorority sister onstage is butchering what some would consider a Mariah Carey classic.
Shauna is less private about her disdain, visibly wincing when the girl hits a high note. Or at least, attempts to hit it. She’s off-key and probably about three tequila shooters too deep to care. Massaging her temple, Shauna mutters, “I told you we should have gone to the piano bar across the street.”
Natalie snorts, fanning herself with the plastic drinks menu. She’s close enough that it unsettles Misty’s curls, making them bounce whenever she whips the menu in that direction. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never done drunken karaoke. Isn’t that like, Bored Suburban Mom 101 or something?”
Taissa tilts her head and agrees, “A rite of passage.”
Lips pursed, Shauna shrugs. “Nope. Never.”
“Well maybe tonight’s the night then. You could pop your karaoke cherry with a Britney Spears ballad.” Natalie leans back in the booth, legs crossed at the knee and shoulder brushing Misty’s. Occasionally needling Shauna is as passive-aggressive as she allows herself to get these days. Probably immature but without a steady cocaine habit to keep her busy, she’ll have her fun where she can get it. “Or hey, do you think they’ve got anything by Fine Young Cannibals?”
Misty giggles.
Shauna’s jaw drops.
Taissa instantly hisses, “ Natalie .”
She blinks, unfazed by the metaphorical pearl-clutching. Tip-toeing around what they did out there has gotten old. They all want to forget it ever happened but Natalie has spent her whole life trying to forget. It doesn’t work.
And maybe that’s part of the reason she finds Misty’s company preferable these days. Misty has never tried to pretend they didn’t do what they did out in the wilderness. Misty doesn’t shy away from ugly, complicated things. Maybe that’s why she’s never looked at Natalie like she’s something broken. Something to be fixed.
Recovering before Taissa, Shauna snaps her mouth closed and fixes Natalie with a glare. “Don’t be an asshole.”
Natalie mouths a mocking sorry , reaching for her drink.
Still eyeing Natalie with annoyance, Taissa clears her throat. “Speaking of love ballads,” she begins, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a charging elephant. “Misty, how’re things going with that guy you met online? What was his name again?”
Swirling the ice in her glass, Natalie glances up when Misty straightens beside her. She notices instantly that Misty’s face looks a little brighter, her smile softer. “Walter.”
“Yeah, you still seeing him?”
When Misty nods almost shyly, Natalie frowns and feels something in her chest tighten with unease. Misty hadn’t told her she was still seeing that guy. And Misty tells her everything - even things Natalie would prefer she didn’t. “Wait, you are?”
Misty looks a little guilty, like she knows what Natalie is thinking. “He’s been out of the country for the last couple of weeks. But he’ll be back tomorrow.” She presses at her glasses and shrugs lightly as she admits, “I’m picking him up at the airport.”
The knot in Natalie’s chest seems to pulse. She presses her fingers against her sternum and tries to massage it away.
“Seems serious,” Tai comments. “You like him then?”
Nodding again, Misty smiles. “It’s still early but we’ve been texting and-”
Natalie stares blankly at the smudged tabletop and tunes Misty out. She’s gotten good at it over the years, letting the constant hum of her voice fade into the background like white noise. Sometimes, she calls Misty at night when she can’t sleep and just sets the phone on her pillow. Misty will provide commentary on whatever twisted true crime documentary she’s watching and put Natalie out better than a fucking Ambien ever did.
But right now, her voice isn’t the comforting soundtrack it’s somehow become to Natalie. She can’t focus on anything but the weird feeling in her chest. She’d been fine just a few minutes ago but the second Misty mentioned Walter -
That must be it.
Natalie has only met the guy briefly and hardly knows enough to form an opinion on him other than crazy eyes and people pleaser but something about him had felt off. She’d sensed it the moment she walked up to the gate at Lottie’s compound and saw him standing with Misty, all bundled up in her bright yellow jacket and beaming at Natalie. Walter had been hovering at her elbow like some kind of useless sidekick and Natalie’s first thought had been absolutely fucking not.
She’d been uneasy before he ever said a word.
And her gut is never wrong.
As she tunes back into the conversation around her, straightening in her seat and dropping her hand from her aching chest, she realizes Misty is still waxing poetic about her boyfriend. Natalie bounces her knee beneath the table, glancing around for a waiter.
She needs another drink. Or several.
“And he’s so much fun.” Misty smiles, sipping at her water through a straw. “He even sings in the car with me. He plays a really great Skimbleshanks, which isn’t easy because-”
Suddenly, Natalie cannot listen to one more word. “Are we gonna order or what?”
Misty falls abruptly quiet, blinking like she’s just been woken from a trance. A light flush colors her cheeks pink and she presses her lips together, like she thinks she might have been talking too much and boring them.
Natalie instantly feels like an asshole.
Fuck, even Shauna is looking at her in surprise.
Shifting in her seat, Natalie drops her gaze to the menu clutched in her fist. She shoves it toward Misty without looking at her and says, “They have those stupid chocolate drinks you like.”
It’s as close to an apology as she can manage.
“Oh.” Misty’s smile is audible. Their fingers brush as she takes the menu from Natalie. “Thank you.”
And Nat breathes out, feeling the tension seep from her shoulders.
-
72 hours.
It's the longest Natalie has gone without hearing from Misty since they reconnected. Every day, there’s always something - a text or a call or just dropping by with some invented excuse that’s really just a reason to snoop through Natalie’s fridge and sort the laundry piled on the chair by the bed. It used to annoy Natalie to no end, never having a moment’s peace from Misty and her hovering.
It’s slowly become a non-issue over the last couple of months, so much so that Natalie expects to hear from Misty at least once a day. Sometimes she even looks forward to it. Misty can be funny when she isn’t trying to be.
But for the last three days - nothing. Not even a cat meme.
Natalie hates to admit it but the day just doesn’t feel complete unless Misty calls at some ungodly hour to tell her good morning or texts a picture of Caligula sitting on her shoulder. Jesus Christ, when did she become this dependent on another person? That’s not something she ever really allows to happen.
Damn Lottie and her purple freaks.
By 10AM on the fourth day of radio silence, Natalie gives in. Under the pretense that she's out of food and Misty’s kitchen is always well-stocked, she decides to drop by and make sure the bird didn’t escape and peck her to death. And hopefully, once she finds Misty just knee-deep in some Reddit thread, Nat will get breakfast.
Misty is sort of like that grandmother that always makes sure guests have something to eat. Except she’s not someone’s grandmother - she’s just a forty-year old woman who likes puzzles and murder. Still, she makes a kickass chocolate chip cookie.
On the walk to Misty’s place, Natalie finds herself looking forward to the exchange. She’ll walk in, complain that Misty isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, and help herself to a stack of homemade cookies and a cup of coffee. And Misty will sit across the table from her and explain whatever has kept her so damn busy the last few days.
It’s a nice little daydream.
And it shatters the moment Walter fucking Tattersall answers the door.
Wearing a flowery apron and a tea towel thrown over his shoulder that reads Attempted Murder with two crows pictured beneath it, like some warped June goddamn Cleaver, he smiles at her. “Hello Natalie. What a nice surprise.”
As if Walter is a regular guest and Natalie being on Misty’s doorstep is unexpected. As if he’d know. Nat feels her hands clench into fists at her sides - an instinct to square up to this guy she has to wrestle down with all her might. Instead, she smiles through her teeth and says in a mockingly sweet tone, “Likewise.”
The tone goes right over Walter’s head.
Figures.
“Misty is in the kitchen,” he says, still wearing that affable smile. “Come on in.”
Natalie wants to kick him in the shin. She follows him into the house instead.
Sitting at the table in the kitchen, Misty has her phone in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. She doesn’t look up as Natalie follows Walter into the kitchen, scrolling through a Reddit thread with a concentrated frown on her face. A couple of loose blonde curls brush her cheek but she pays it no mind, reaching up to adjust her glasses.
While Natalie lurks uncertainly in the doorway, Walter saunters up to the table and takes Misty’s empty plate. His hand falls to her shoulder and he squeezes gently as he says, “Sweetie, you have a guest.”
Natalie doesn’t bother containing a sneer at the pet name, her lip curling. Sweetie? Seriously?
Still frowning, Misty glances up. She brightens immediately when she sees Natalie, setting aside her phone and bouncing a little in her chair like a kid being presented with a gift. “Nat,” she says, eyes wide and excited. “Are you here for breakfast?”
Eyes flickering to Walter at the sink, rinsing plates and loading them into the dishwasher, Nat shrugs noncommittally and sinks into a chair at the table. Reaching for a sausage link, she mutters, “Didn’t know there would be a buffet.”
“Walter made it.”
She drops the sausage back onto the serving platter, grimacing. “He stayed over?”
Nose scrunched and a mildly embarrassed grin on her face, Misty admits, “Sort of. We fell asleep watching 48 Hours.”
Nat snorts. “Sexy.”
Misty looks like she might be contemplating whether it’s beneath her dignity to stick out her tongue.
Hiding a smile, Nat reaches for the coffee. It feels like the safer option.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up.” Walter wipes his hands on a dish towel and leans in to press a quick kiss to Misty’s cheek. “I’m going to clean Caligula’s cage.”
Natalie glances away, staring avidly into her cup of black coffee. Jaw clenched, she waits in silence until she hears Walter’s soft footsteps leaving the kitchen. She listens, fingers curled too tightly around her mug, to the sound of him murmuring quietly to Misty’s bird in the next room. When she feels in control of her face again, she looks up.
Misty, brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully, is already looking back. The grateful smile she’d had on her face for Walter has dimmed and she looks at Natalie with disappointment as she says, “You don’t like him.”
It isn’t a question. Just a statement of fact.
Natalie doesn’t bother with pointless denial. She just shrugs and mutters, “Dorks aren’t really my type, Misty.” She sips at her coffee. “Perfect for you, though.”
The regret is instant and physically nauseating.
It always is when she’s unnecessarily mean to Misty.
Natalie bites down on her tongue before she can offer a weak apology, watching Misty duck her head and frown. “He’s really sweet, Nat. No one’s ever been sweet to me before.”
The admission makes something clench in her chest, painful and breath-stealing.
“And he actually likes being with me,” Misty continues, looking in awe as the words leave her mouth. Like Walter has accomplished some remarkable fucking feat like turning water into wine. “He isn’t always thinking of an excuse to leave.”
Natalie swallows a mouthful of her coffee, feeling it scald all the way down. It feels well-deserved, knowing she cannot count herself in that same category. Not that it matters. It isn’t like she’s trying to date Misty. Still, Misty’s praise makes her feel uneasy. “So you like him because he’s nice and isn’t running away from you screaming?” She scoffs, arching a brow. “You don’t think that’s kind of a low bar?”
“Maybe,” Misty admits, shrugging. “But no one’s ever met it before.”
The ache in Natalie’s chest intensifies, making it difficult to breathe. She has to force the words past her lips, spitting them out like something sour. “I’m… glad you’re happy then.”
Misty smiles at her like Nat just recited a personalized sonnet dedicated to her. And Natalie feels another annoying pang of guilt. It takes so little to make Misty happy but she can count on one hand the number of times she’s even bothered to try. “Thanks, Nat.”
Swallowing another too-hot gulp of coffee, Natalie doesn’t reply. She watches Misty get up from the table and carry her mug to the sink to rinse. For the first time, she notices what Misty is wearing and nearly chokes.
Usually in scrubs or jeans and oversized sweaters, Misty isn’t the type to dress up. She likes being comfortable, unlike Natalie who will gladly sacrifice comfort for the sake of style. But today, Misty looks… different. She’s wearing a black sundress with thin straps that bare her shoulders, showing off ivory skin dotted with beauty marks. The hem rests just above her knees and bounces a little when she walks. It cinches in at the waist, displaying just how tiny and petite she is.
As Misty turns from the sink to face her, Natalie jerks her gaze away before the other woman can realize she’d been staring. She snaps her gaping mouth shut and tries to settle her expression into something more neutral. “Kind of early to be dressed up,” she says, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of her neck. The kitchen feels too warm all of a sudden. “Going somewhere?”
Misty glances down at the dress with a smile. “Oh, yeah. It’s new. You like it?”
Nodding before she can stop herself, Natalie admits haltingly, “You look… hot.”
And god, Misty lights up like a sun. “Walter brought it back from Italy for me.”
Of course he did. Natalie feels the aftertaste of the compliment she’d offered linger in her mouth like something foul.
Misty doesn’t notice. “I thought I’d wear it out today,” she explains, still puttering busily around the kitchen. “We’re going to a matinee. The theater downtown is showing old movies for $1 every weekend this summer.”
“A dollar?” Nat snorts. “This guy is a big spender.”
“Walter is pretty well off, actually.” Misty shrugs, unperturbed. “But it’s not about the money. We just like spending time together.”
Feeling her mood begin to drop, Natalie pushes away her coffee and stands. “I’ll let you get back to it then.” She catches the slightest hint of disappointment on Misty’s face and hesitates, watching her lean against the counter and wrap her arms around her middle. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Misty shakes her head and presses at her glasses. “You didn’t eat.”
Natalie sways on her feet, torn between the urge to leave and the need to make sure Misty doesn’t feel slighted by her abrupt exit. And honestly, fuck her for making Natalie care about her feelings. “Not hungry.”
Sighing, Misty gestures wearily over Nat’s shoulder. “There are still some chocolate chip cookies in that jar by the toaster.”
Trying not to look too eager, Natalie turns on her heel and moves toward her prize. She lifts the lid on the jar and grabs two, taking a big bite out of the first. Her eyes flutter shut. It’s soft and kind of chewy, with the exact right amount of milk chocolate chips. Fuck, how is someone like Misty this good at such a wholesome hobby? She would have been a great asset out there in the wilderness - if she hadn’t been so eager to drug them all.
“Thanks,” Nat says again, around a mouthful. She meets Misty’s gaze hesitantly, taking a step backwards toward the door. “See you later, I guess.”
Misty moves forward like an invisible string is tied around her wrist and Natalie’s, preventing them from being too far apart. “Do you want to come with us?” She looks hopeful, biting her lip. “This week’s show is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”
Smiling closed-lipped around her food, Nat mumbles, “I’d rather eat glass.” She swallows, licking her lips and tasting chocolate. Misty’s eyes follow the movement briefly before flicking back up to meet her gaze. “Besides, how’re you going to spend time together if I’m there?”
Blinking at her like she’s being ridiculous, Misty says, “You’re my best friend, Natalie. Walter is just going to have to get used to you being around.”
The words and how matter-of-factly they’re spoken go a long way toward soothing the irritation prickling along Natalie’s spine. And she feels stupid for acting like a sulky teenager. This is Misty. Of course she isn’t going to just toss Natalie aside because she’s dating someone now. That invisible string has been tangled and knotted around them since they were seventeen years old. It won’t be undone by someone as insignificant as Walter.
As if summoned by Natalie’s thoughts, he ducks his head into the kitchen. His eyes are for Misty only as he asks, “Ready to go?”
Misty glances at Natalie. “Yes. Just saying goodbye.”
“Oh.” Walter glances between them with a frown. “Natalie isn’t coming?”
Ugh. Fuck him for being nice.
It makes Natalie’s inexplicable distrust of him so inconvenient.
Misty shakes her head, lips pursed. “Nat doesn’t-”
“Want to miss the previews,” Natalie cuts in, attempting to smile. It must come off as more of a snarl because Walter eyes her warily. She stuffs the rest of her cookie in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “So we better get going.”
“Oh my gosh, really?” Beaming, Misty steps away from Walter and reaches for Natalie’s wrist. Her small fingers are warm and just a little too tight as she pulls Nat in the direction of the door. “This is going to be so much fun.”
The genuine excitement in her voice does nothing for the dread Natalie feels at the idea of spending an entire afternoon with Mr. and Mrs. Dahmer but it does seem to settle the ugly, seething monster that writhes in her chest every time Walter looks at Misty with those soft eyes.
He’s just too… agreeable.
And Nat is going to figure out what the fuck his deal is.
It’s only after they’re seated at the theater and the lights begin to dim that Natalie realizes what a stupid idea this was. Misty sits between her and Walter, holding the giant popcorn bucket on her lap. Walter immediately drapes his arm over the back of her chair, his fingers toying casually with the ends of her hair. Like he knows he has permission to touch her.
Every few minutes, he leans in close to whisper something in Misty’s ear. She always turns to look at him when she replies, which brings their faces alarmingly close together. Their noses nearly touch each time. And when Walter reaches for the popcorn, he seems to time it just as Misty is reaching too so that their fingers will brush.
All of it is so excessive and unnecessary.
Too distracted by the display to pay attention to the movie, Natalie sits tense and annoyed. She drains her soda in no time, jumping to her feet and muttering about a refill as she flees back up the aisle and into the lobby. She isn’t really that thirsty but she can’t stomach another second of watching this guy paw at Misty.
How is Misty supposed to watch the movie with him constantly talking to her and touching her? And Natalie knows how much Misty enjoys this one. She has the choreography for Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend memorized.
And fuck’s sake, why does she know that?
As much as Nat tries to ignore Misty’s constant chatter, some of it seeps through occasionally against her will, making itself at home in her brain.
Making it out of the theater and into the quiet of the lobby, Natalie stops and tries to shake the tension from her shoulders. She closes her eyes and breathes out a sigh. And listens to the sound of footsteps behind her.
She doesn’t even have to turn around to recognize the sound of Misty walking up behind her. She’d know those steps anywhere. Opening her eyes, she turns on her heel with a frown fixed firmly in place. “What’re you doing?”
Misty blinks at her. “I need a refill too.” She rattles her cup for emphasis, shifting around the ice inside.
Holding in a sigh, Natalie takes the cup from her. “Fine. I’ll get it.” She starts for the concession counter and Misty follows closely behind, tagging along the way she always does, that familiar little skip in her step.
“Are you having fun?”
“Sure,” Nat answers flatly. She glances over her shoulder, eyeing Misty curiously. “Are you?”
“Of course.” Misty tilts her head and does that confused puppy thing that’s always been a little too endearing for someone as lethal as she is. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Natalie shrugs, slowing to a stop at the back of the concession line. There’s one person ahead of her so she lowers her voice and offers, “I’m just saying if you wanted to ditch, I could call us an Uber. We don’t need him to get home.”
Infuriatingly, Misty looks even more confused. “Natalie, why would we leave Walter here?”
Christ. She genuinely can’t see what a creep this guy is. It’s a little disappointing considering Misty is usually always two steps ahead of everyone else. She’s so annoyingly clever. But maybe she’s too close to this one. Maybe she’s just so eager to have someone that she doesn’t want to see it.
It looks like Natalie will have to figure this one out by herself.
“No reason,” she answers evasively, moving to the counter as the person ahead of them leaves. She orders two cokes and glances at Misty as she pulls a wad of cash out of the back pocket of her jeans. “You want a snack?”
Smiling, Misty nods and presses at her glasses. “Split some M&Ms with me?”
They walk back into the theater together and Natalie feels mildly victorious when Misty stops eating the popcorn in favor of the M&Ms. She holds them out to her by the handful and Misty eats them - her fingers brushing Natalie’s palm as she picks up each candy piece by piece.
-
Nat calls in a favor, reaching out to a contact in New York to task them with finding out more about Walter Tattersall. It takes a few days to hear anything back, during which Misty’s communication is sporadic at best. Natalie spends her time pacing her motel room and trying not to text her dealer.
And then when she finally does hear from her contact, there’s nothing salacious to report. Walter is apparently as boring as he looks.
Though Misty wasn’t kidding when she said he’s “pretty well off”. The guy is a fucking multi-millionaire and has been ever since he settled in court for six million dollars after he suffered a head injury from a construction accident. There’s a metal plate in his head as a result. Which doesn’t exactly scream mentally stable but it’s not damning either. It’s certainly not something she can take to Misty and expect her to take seriously.
It’s pretty much a dead end. Natalie seethes about it for all of twenty-four hours before she gathers her resolve and comes up with another plan. If anyone is going to have more information than a private investigator, it’s Misty. She needs to question her about Walter - subtly, of course. No one’s closet is free of skeletons. She just needs something - anything - to give her some insight into where to look next.
Misty answers on the second ring when Natalie calls. Her voice is bright and cheerful as she greets, “Hi, Nat!” Then there’s a weird shuffling noise and her voice sounds muffled, like she’s speaking to someone else and covering the mouthpiece of her phone while she does it.
Scowling, Natalie sucks her teeth and waits.
“Sorry.” Misty’s voice comes back clear again, speaking directly to Natalie now. “What’s up?”
Nat pushes away from the wall and paces the length of her motel room, feeling a little like a caged animal. “I was thinking I might grab a drink.”
“Now?” Misty’s frown is audible. “It’s 10 in the morning, Natalie.”
Grimacing, Natalie glances at the clock. Fuck. Too late to change her story now.
“Yeah,” she says, keeping her tone bored. “Well, I’m thirsty. You in?”
There’s a slight pause on the other end of the line. Whether it’s surprise or something else, Natalie doesn’t know. But Misty’s voice is hesitant when she replies, “I would but Walter and I have plans.”
She sounds reluctant, at least, like she wishes they didn’t. It does little for the sting of rejection Natalie feels, pulling her phone away from her ear and staring at it for a moment. She squints at the screen. Yup. That’s Misty’s number.
Misty just blew her off. To hang out with Walter.
Which, what the fuck. Misty never turns down an opportunity to spend time with Natalie. She used to volunteer to follow Nat on hunts in the wilderness, traipsing through the forest in her footsteps and scaring away all the game because she couldn’t shut the fuck up for two seconds.
Bringing the phone back to her ear, Natalie struggles to keep her voice casual. Unaffected. “Yeah? Going to the sock hop?”
Misty gives her one of those mocking, fake laughs. “Very funny.” Natalie can almost picture her, frowning disapprovingly and fiddling with her glasses. “There’s a Citizen Detective meetup at See You Latte. We’re going to have coffee and watch a live stream of the Kaitlin Armstrong trial.”
Natalie rolls her eyes, already grabbing her keys. “Fine, whatever.”
“But maybe we can grab a drink later?”
She opens her door and steps out into the humid afternoon air. “Maybe.”
Without waiting for a reply, she ends the call and sticks her phone into the back pocket of her shorts. The air almost sizzles as she walks across the parking lot to the car she’d gotten to replace the Porsche. It’s nothing like her sleek, beautiful baby had been but it gets her from place to place, which is about as much as she can ask of it.
Right now, it’s going to get her to this cafe with the dumb name before Misty.
See You Latte is a small, trendy place on Main Street, with a cozy seating area of overstuffed couches and chairs facing a flat screen television on the wall. A few nerds are already there, setting up the live stream. Misty and Walter are nowhere in sight and Nat uses the opportunity to order an iced Americano.
She settles in at a small table near the back for her impromptu stakeout, grabbing a nearby magazine someone had left behind in hopes of concealing her face. While she isn’t entirely sure what she’s doing or even what she’s hoping to discover, she knows it’ll be shot to hell if Misty catches even a single glimpse of her.
Ten minutes later, as she’s pretending to read an article in People about the Kardashians, Misty and Walter stroll through the door. They’re not holding hands or anything, but Walter holds the door open and lets Misty step through first. Eyes narrowed, Nat watches them exchange a few words and separate - Walter heading for the counter and Misty making a beeline for the couches and chairs.
Instead of taking a couch where she and Walter can sit together, Misty sinks into an armchair and tucks her legs beneath her. She takes her phone out and unlocks it, thumbs hovering over the screen like she’s contemplating a text. She bites down on her lip and Natalie finds herself staring at the flush of her cheeks and the fall of her blonde curls. There’s one unruly strand that keeps slipping to the middle of her forehead no matter how many times Misty reaches up to brush it back.
It occurs to Natalie that she’s watching the wrong person and she scowls to herself, dragging her gaze away to Walter standing at the counter. He accepts two cups from the barista, one a weird green color and the other Misty’s usual chocolate cold foam bullshit with extra syrup. Natalie always sneers at it and tells her she might as well drink a glass of chocolate milk.
At the same time Walter turns from the counter to face her direction, Natalie realizes the magazine she’s been clutching is all but in her lap. She raises it back up quickly, gritting her teeth when Walter pauses mid-step.
She doesn’t move or look up, but it feels a little ridiculous. Like a kid playing hide-and-seek, totally oblivious that their feet are sticking out beneath the drapes and giving them away. Fuck’s sake, she used to be better at this kind of thing. She’s gotten rusty.
On the move again, Walter heads straight for Misty. He hands her the chocolate monstrosity she’d ordered and settles on the arm of her chair. Under Nat’s narrowed gaze, he leans in and presses a kiss to Misty’s forehead. It disrupts that little rebellious curl and he tenderly tucks it back into place.
Something weird happens in Natalie’s chest at the sight, an uncomfortable tightness that makes breathing a chore. Feeling her temples begin to ache, Nat unclenches her jaw with considerable effort and forces a breath in and out through her nose.
Misty glances up at Walter with a smile that looks a little strained, locking her phone and putting it away. As she sips at her drink through a straw, she keeps her gaze trained on Walter as he leans in and whispers something to her.
Her head snaps up instantly, wide brown eyes locking onto Natalie over the flimsy shield of her magazine. Fuck.
Growling under her breath, Natalie drops the magazine with a careless flutter of pages. Even a kid playing hide-and-seek knows when to give it up.
Misty doesn’t even look annoyed - like she doesn’t realize Natalie had been here to spy on her and her boyfriend. She just smiles excitedly and waves her arm over her head, like she’s trying to catch Natalie’s attention in an airport and not a tiny cafe.
Thoroughly caught, Natalie steels herself. Gripping her coffee like a lifeline, she abandons her seat and slinks across the room in the world’s most pathetic walk of shame.
When she’s close enough, Misty latches onto her sleeve and says, “So this is what you meant when you said you wanted a drink? I thought-” She shakes her head, still smiling. “It doesn’t matter. You should join us.”
Natalie balks, trying to step backward.
Still gripping her sleeve, Misty doesn’t allow her to get far.
“Isn’t this like a… detective thing? I’m not-”
“Oh, it’s a public event.” Misty waves away her feeble excuse. “I would’ve invited you but I didn’t think you’d come.”
Damn right.
Misty releases her sleeve but only to pat the cushion she’s sitting on, scooting over to hug one arm of the chair. “Sit with me. This chair is plenty big enough for two.”
And it is.
So why is Walter sitting all the way across from her?
Her mind already coming up with multiple excuses to slip away before she gets stuck at this nerd convention for serial killers-in-training, Nat opens her mouth to decline. And then her gaze drops to Misty, clutching her disgusting chocolate coffee and blinking up at Natalie with her stupid pleading face and her massive brown doe eyes.
Nat sighs audibly. “Fine.” She sinks into the annoyingly plush armchair, her thigh pressed against Misty’s and their shoulders touching. Arms crossed over her chest, she juts her chin toward the display case of baked goods and insists, “But you’re buying me a muffin.”
-
Running out of booze and cigarettes at the same time should qualify as an emergency. There should be a hotline for this shit. Or like, 24/7 UberEats dedicated to alcohol and nicotine deliveries. UberDrinks, maybe.
Natalie cringes as she puts the car into park outside the nearest grocery store. That sounded like one of those awful jokes Misty likes to make. She pauses with her hand still curled around the steering wheel, taking a moment to wallow in the embarrassment she feels on her own behalf.
This definitely calls for two bottles. She’s entirely too sober.
She’s been dialing it back since she came home from Lottie’s weird ass cult in one piece. She hasn’t stopped drinking entirely but she’s been behaving herself. It’s been… shit, she can’t even remember the last time she allowed herself to get well and truly shit-faced. Tonight, it feels necessary.
Not even twenty-four hours ago she’d been sitting in a cafe with people who made Misty Quigley seem normal. And she’d done it willingly. Because Misty asked her to and Natalie is trying to be a better person. Friend. Whatever.
The point is, she needs a drink.
When she climbs out of the car, the night air is sticky. The air conditioning at the motel is on the fritz so Natalie barely blinks at the humidity. Her short, dark hair hangs limply around her face, little pieces damp with sweat sticking to the back of her neck. Dressed in shorts and a black tank top, she clutches her keys in her fist and moves hurriedly across the parking lot toward the promise of air-conditioned, sweet relief.
The cool blast of air that hits her as she crosses the threshold into the store is damn near a religious experience. Goosebumps prickle along her skin and Nat shivers, reaching for a cart. Maybe she’ll get a couple of six-packs and a box of donuts too. Oh and some of those ready to drink iced coffees. And some poptarts. But the strawberry kind so she can make a case for being healthy.
Making the executive decision to head for the booze first, Natalie turns her cart toward the back of the store. It’s nearing ten-thirty and the store is mostly empty, save for a couple of teenagers and some guy staring at the cold medicine like maybe it’ll solve all his problems.
Not exactly eager to get back to a stuffy motel room, Natalie takes her time perusing the alcohol selection. She runs her fingertip along each bottle as she reads the label, even knowing she’ll probably get her usual Jack Daniels and call it a night. She stands in front of the whisky and contemplates going for the Johnnie Walker instead, tapping her nails against the glass thoughtfully.
And then the humming distracts her.
It’s getting closer and it sounds… familiar.
Not just the song, which she should not know but thanks to spending most of her time with Misty, she recognizes the tune of Defying Gravity. She’ll drink about that later. Right now, she’s trying to figure out why the voice sounds familiar too.
She frowns, glancing over her shoulder and down the aisle just as someone passes by the other end - headed for the personal hygiene department. She catches a flash of dark hair and cargo pants, and her mouth curls into an automatic snarl. What the hell is Walter Tattersall doing at the grocery store in the middle of the night?
This is not the time normal people get their shopping done. This time is for people with no concept of a schedule or sufferers of insomnia. Or people like Natalie, who happens to be both.
She abandons her cart instantly, curling her fingers around the bottle of Jack Daniels and carrying it with her as she stalks off after her target. She finds him a few aisles over, perusing the dental floss like he’s Indiana fuckin’ Jones selecting the right goblet.
Peering around a display of mouthwash, Natalie scans the contents of his cart. Fresh fruit, dark chocolate, bird food, tampons, and those little wine coolers Misty likes that are mostly juice with like, a drop of alcohol. Lightweight . The thought sounds a little too fond even in her own head so Nat scowls and shoves it away.
Everything in his cart is for Misty. She must have sent him out for supplies. And Walter, like the good little boyfriend he’s trying so hard to portray, had left the house in the middle of the night to do her bidding. Nat had been sure the guy couldn’t sink any lower in her estimation of him but here he is - all the way at rock bottom and grabbing a shovel.
“Do you prefer ribbon or wax?” Walter doesn’t look up as he speaks and for a moment, Natalie wonders if he might be on the phone with Misty. But then he looks up and their eyes meet. “Personally, I’m a big fan of wax floss.”
Natalie doesn’t reply, annoyed not only at being caught but also at not even being given the decency of the illusion of surprise. She bites down on her tongue and steps out from behind the display, tucking the bottle of Jack under her arm. Deciding casual indifference is the best course of action, she shrugs. “Uh, neither. I’m a big fan of whatever’s on sale.”
Walter hums, nodding thoughtfully. “Practical.” He drops a package of wax floss into his cart and then crosses his arms over his chest, like a disappointed parent. “So what is this? Why were you peeking around the corner at me like the lead in a bad spy movie?”
“I wasn’t peeking,” she lies, and scoffs for good measure. “I was looking at the mouthwash. You’re not the only one who cares about dental hygiene.” She picks up a travel-sized bottle of Listerine for emphasis. “Typical man, thinking the world revolves around you.”
The amused look on his stupid face is absolutely infuriating. “Do you have a problem with me, Natalie?” He looks thrilled at the very idea, the freak. “If this is about Misty, I must say your overprotectiveness is sweet but unnecessary.”
“Why would I be protective of Misty?” She smirks, eyeing him with cynical amusement. “That psycho can take care of herself just fine.”
He frowns. “While I’d agree with the sentiment that Misty is very capable, the name-calling is unwelcome. Particularly when it’s someone who claims to be her friend.”
Natalie tilts her head, eyes narrowed. “I never claimed that.” At least not out loud. “But I have known her for almost 30 years. You’ve known her, what? A couple of months?” She shakes her head and watches Walter stiffen at the pity in her eyes. “I know exactly who and what she is. Do you?”
“I know enough,” he says simply. Firmly. “And I’d be mindful of speaking about such things in a public setting.”
Glancing around the empty aisle, Nat snorts. “Such a white fucking knight, aren’t you?”
“Well-”
Whatever Walter is about to say - whatever heroic, perfect boyfriend speech he’s about to give - he doesn’t get a chance to finish it. Natalie stalks over the distance between them and reaches out a hand to grip his collar, shoving him against the selection of whitening toothpastes. He yelps in surprise but she ignores him, her voice low and threatening as she says, “Let me tell you something, Waldo. I don’t know what your game is but I’m going to find out.”
He swallows, meeting her gaze plainly. “Don’t you think this is a little much considering what you just said? We both know Misty can take care of herself. There’s no need for-”
“I’m not trying to take care of her,” Natalie snaps, fingers tightening briefly around his collar.
Walter frowns. “Then… what are you doing?”
Honestly? She’s starting to wonder that herself.
She thinks of how thrilled Misty was the other day, standing in her kitchen in a new dress and smiling because Walter genuinely likes her. If this guy turns out to be some creepy fan after some Yellowjackets' intel to sell to the media, it’ll hurt her. A lot. And for some damn reason, Natalie cares about that.
Christ. How annoying.
Gritting her teeth, Natalie shoves Walter against the toothpaste display one more time. A couple of boxes hit the tiled floor. Eyes narrowed, she warns, “Just… don’t fuck with her.”
And then she releases her grip and turns on her heel, making her escape before some long-suffering night-shift employee makes her leave. Luckily, Walter is smart enough not to follow her. Natalie imagines her restraint would be a lot weaker in a dark parking lot without security cameras.
It’s only when she climbs back into the stuffy confines of her car that she realizes two things. One, she’d accidentally shoplifted whisky and Listerine. And two, she forgot cigarettes.
Groaning, Natalie drops her head back against the headrest and fumes.
Fucking Waldo.
-
It’s half past seven and way too early to be conscious, much less interacting with other humans. Not that it stops whoever is knocking incessantly on the door of Natalie’s motel room.
Without opening her eyes, Nat groans into her pillow and mutters, “Fuck off, Misty.”
Because who else?
Another rapid, impatient knock seems to pound directly at her temple. Natalie winces, fighting the urge to cover her head with her pillow and ignore it. She hadn’t finished the entire bottle of Jack last night but she’d been damn close. And this morning, her aching head is the price. That, and Misty Quigley.
She won’t give up and leave like a normal person. Nat is probably about two minutes away from Misty picking the lock and letting herself in just to make sure Natalie is alive and not on drugs. With another groan, this one accompanied by more knocking, Natalie drags herself out of bed.
Barefoot and clad in nothing but a sports bra and boxer shorts, she stumbles to the door and yanks it open mid-knock. At the expected sight of Misty waiting on the other side, she slumps against the doorframe with a glare. “I thought we had an agreement about visits before 9AM?”
There’s a beat of silence as Misty takes her in, eyes trailing from Natalie’s scowling face all the way down to her bare feet and back up again. Probably trying to analyze exactly how hungover Natalie is and whether the binge drinking requires an intervention yet. “We did,” she finally says, sweeping her gaze back to Natalie’s face. “But this was important so-”
Nat straightens instantly, her heart rate picking up pace in anticipated dread. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
She scans Misty for any traces of blood - either her own or more likely, someone else’s - but stops short when she realizes Misty is… wearing denim. And not her usual, relaxed jeans. These jeans are tight enough to leave very little to the imagination, hugging her figure in a way that shows off Misty’s petite curves rather than hiding them. Accompanied by a plain white t-shirt cropped at the waist and casual sneakers, with her curls loose and a swipe of color over her lips, she looks… good. Definitely not in crisis.
Natalie swallows and wishes suddenly for some water. Hangovers always leave her a little dehydrated. She licks her dry lips and turns her attention back to Misty just in time to hear her confirm, “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why-”
“Except you stalking Walter through a grocery store and threatening him in the toothpaste aisle.”
Natalie blinks, still half-asleep and thinking about water. It takes a moment for Misty’s words to register and then her jaw drops. “He told you?” She bites back a growl of annoyance, nostrils flaring. “That fucking snitch.”
“ Natalie .” Misty gapes at her. “That is not the point. Why are you assaulting poor Walter?”
With a roll of her eyes, Natalie pushes away from the door and trails back into her motel room. This is not a conversation she wants to have outside - or at all. She hears Misty follow after her with a sigh, shutting the door behind her.
“Nat?”
“It wasn’t assault,” she says, rummaging through her nightstand drawer for cigarettes. She remembers she’d fled the store without them last night and swears under her breath. Clenching her fidgeting hands in her hair, she turns back to face Misty reluctantly. “I just wanted to scare him a little.”
Misty shakes her head, brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because,” Natalie snaps, and then flounders for an explanation that isn’t the truth. Nothing comes immediately to mind. Her head is pounding and sleep is still clinging to the edges of consciousness. “Because he’s shady as shit and I wanted him to know I’m onto him.”
Misty blinks. “You’re… onto him. About what?”
“Whatever it is he’s doing. Which… I don’t know yet but I’m going to find out.” Gaze narrowed, Nat watches Misty’s expression shift into disbelief and sneers. “There is no way someone is that into both musical theater and serial killers while also being mentally stable.” She gestures at Misty and mutters, “Exhibit A.”
Misty crosses her arms over her chest and glares.
Nat scrunches up her nose apologetically but doesn’t actually apologize. “Look, my point is there’s something fishy going on with him and I think you should probably cut contact.”
“What?”
Misty turns to pace away from her in exasperation and Nat’s gaze drops automatically to the way her jeans hug the curve of her ass. It isn’t sexual, just… observant. Kind of hard not to notice in denim that tight. Is that why she’d worn it? Is she trying to get Walter’s attention or something?
“I’m not going to stop seeing Walter because you think something might be wrong with him. Besides, I’m not exactly all that discerning in the company I keep.” She gestures vaguely at Natalie and says, “Exhibit A.”
Ouch . Nat is almost impressed. She glares anyway.
Misty returns her apologetic nose scrunch with one of her own.
With a snort, Nat glances away and rubs the back of her neck. “I have a couple of contacts I've been reaching out to, to see what they can dig up. The first one was a bust but the second is like, a fuckin’ Bond level hacker so he’ll definitely find something -”
Misty crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised. “What makes you so sure there’s something to find?”
“He’s too nice.” Even the thought of the guy makes her want to shudder in revulsion. “And he just so happens to like all the same things you like. He wants to be around you all the time-”
Misty tilts her head, brown eyes narrowed. “So obviously something has to be wrong.”
“Yes.” Natalie recoils, realizing what she’d just agreed to. “I mean, shit.”
There’s a moment of tense silence between them as Natalie struggles to find the words to apologize when she and Misty never really apologize to each other. They’re both kind of shit at it and Misty probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. Before she can figure out what to say that would sound believable, Misty glances away, lips pressed tightly together.
“You know, Walter has been telling me for weeks that my friends aren’t really my friends.” She huffs quietly, shaking her head. There’s a pained expression on her face that Nat doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. A vulnerability Misty usually buries beneath terrifying optimism. “I keep telling him he’s wrong but… if you think I’m so unloveable that no one could possibly want to spend time with me without some kind of ulterior motive-”
“That’s not what I said,” Natalie snaps, stepping forward with her hands balled into fists. “Don’t do that shit. Don’t put words in my mouth, Misty.”
Misty frowns. “I’m not-”
“And clearly, this just proves that I’m right.” Natalie points at out, smiling triumphantly. “He’s talking shit about me because he’s trying to isolate you. He wants you weak and vulnerable and dependent on him-”
“Natalie, stop it,” Misty snaps, brown eyes flashing behind her glasses. “You’re acting crazy.”
“ I’m acting crazy?” She scoffs. “That’s real fuckin’ rich coming from you, of all people.”
Misty flinches.
Swallowing back another nauseating wave of guilt, Natalie sighs quietly. “Fuck’s sake, I’m just… concerned, alright? I don’t want to see you get hurt by this guy.”
Misty glances up warily. Their eyes meet and Natalie feels a brief flicker of hope that she might be getting through to her. “You… don’t?”
“Jesus, Misty. I know we have our issues but I’m not plotting your fucking downfall.” Natalie scowls, crossing her arms over chest. “Waldo-”
“Walter.”
“Whatever.” Nat flicks a hand at her carelessly. “He’s obviously after some Yellowjacket secrets and using you to get them.”
Misty nods once, her eyes huge and filled with that rare vulnerability again as she asks, “Because he couldn’t possibly be genuinely interested in someone like me?”
“What, no-” Natalie falters, shaking her head firmly. The movement intensifies the ache in her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
Misty doesn’t seem to be listening. “Look, I know I’m not beautiful or effortlessly cool and sexy the way you are, Natalie-”
Nat blinks at her, inwardly reeling. Hang on, what ?
“But I do still have feelings.”
“I didn’t say-”
Misty turns away, marching for the door. “I have to go,” she says over her shoulder, refusing to look back. “Walter and I are going antiquing in Keyport.”
Natalie feels a surge of panic at the sight of her retreating back. She can count on one hand the number of times Misty has been the one to storm out in the middle of an argument. That’s usually Natalie’s thing. The sudden role reversal is like a gut-punch. “Misty, come on.” She hurries after her, hand outstretched to grab her wrist. “Don’t-”
Slipping out of Natalie’s reach, Misty slams the door behind her.
Nat stares after her, listening to the sound of the Fiat pulling out of the parking lot. When it fades away, the silence feels heavy. She sinks onto the edge of her bed and stares blankly at the wall. “Fuck.”