Get Even (Don’t Get Mad)
Get Even: Chapter 42

MARGOT STARED AT OLIVIA, UNSURE WHETHER OR NOT TO believe what she was hearing. “A photo,” she said.

“Yes.”

“In a plain manila envelope.”

“Yes.”

Margot felt her stomach clench. “Left in your locker.”

“In my bag,” Olivia said. “But close enough.”

It had been creepy to receive the envelopes, worse when Margot realized what they contained, but in her mind, she had separated them from her involvement with DGM. Still, 50 percent of DGM receiving similar deliveries could have been a coincidence, albeit a slim one. Seventy-five percent, however . . .

Margot bolted from the room without another word. Seventy-five percent would definitely not be a coincidence. It would mean someone was targeting the members of DGM.

“Where are you going?” Olivia cried, teetering after her.

“We need to replace Bree.”

Bree studied the user manual for the theater’s lighting control console. She’d already spent an hour with the designer, who showed her how to input cues. But the moment he left the control room, his instructions for fades and blinds, channels and dimmers got all jumbled up in her head.

“You’d think they could afford a professional,” she muttered to herself, tossing the manual onto the table.

“Bree!” Margot barreled into the lighting booth, Olivia close behind.

Bree leaned back in her chair. “I thought we weren’t supposed to make eye contact at school. Isn’t that your golden rule?”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Bree mused, tapping the side of her face as if contemplating the meaning of life. “You mean like the cute new guy in school asking you to join a theater production?”

Margot narrowed her eyes. “Any different than why you’re here?”

“Touché.” Bree squinted at Margot. She looked weird. “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Powder, highlighter, gloss,” Olivia said with an impatient sigh. “You really should look into it.”

Bree pursed her lips. “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.” She paused. “Did you guys come here to talk cosmetics?”

“Did you get an envelope?” Olivia blurted out.

Bree stiffened. Was this a trick?

“Mail comes to the Deringer estate every day,” Bree said, unwilling to give anything away about John until she knew why they were asking. “Envelopes galore.”

“Cut the jokes,” Margot said sharply. “Olivia means, have you gotten any large envelopes left in your locker or your bag?”

So Margot and Olivia were getting them too? Interesting. She had assumed that a member of DGM had sent her the information about John’s inquiries into the group, but maybe it was an interested third party?

Her mind raced with possibilities, and two of the three most logical ones were staring at her, waiting for an answer. Who else would have wanted to clue her in on John’s hunt for DGM? Who else might have known that she was involved?

She looked from Margot to Olivia, who both stared at her expectantly. If she admitted to being in the manila envelope club, what would come next—the inevitable sharing of what they’d received?

Margot was already hell-bent on pointing a suspicious finger at John. Knowing that he was close to discovering DGM’s secret might push her over the edge. No, she couldn’t trust anyone else. She would be the keeper of John’s secret.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s it?” Olivia said as she traipsed down the stairs behind Margot. “You’re just going to believe her?”

“She said she didn’t get one.” Margot walked quickly, desperate to get away from Olivia and end this conversation. “Did you want me to call her a liar to her face?”

“Kinda.”

“Just drop it, Olivia.”

Olivia scurried in front of her. “Do you want to know what was in mine?”

Margot glanced at the floor. This is what she’d wanted to avoid. She’d let her guard down with Olivia in the dressing room, lulled into a state of complacency by a small token of kindness. But Bree’s caginess reminded her of how much was at stake, and how little she could trust DGM with her secrets.

“No,” she said, turning her cold stare on Olivia. “No, I don’t.”

Without another word she quickly sidestepped Olivia and hurried back to the dressing room.

Olivia wandered to a darkened corner of the house and collapsed into a seat.

She’d thought she’d had a moment with Margot, the sort of friendly kindness she’d been hoping for ever since they both joined DGM. Margot was always so closed off, so cold and professional at DGM meetings, it had been impossible to break through. But today in the dressing room, she thought they’d taken a step toward friendship.

Apparently not so much. Whatever trust she’d elicited from Margot by doing her hair and makeup vanished the moment Bree lied to them.

Way to go, Bree.

Whatever. She didn’t need them. Ed the Head was working on the mystery. He’d dig up something.

Olivia slouched lower in her seat. Somehow, that didn’t brighten her mood.

Voices drifted in from the lobby.

“Dude,” Shane White said. “Your shit is tight.”

A laugh Olivia recognized. “Thanks, man,” Donté said with his usual modesty.

“Where did you learn how to act?”

“Dunno,” Donté said. “I guess I just picked it up along the way. You know how it is.”

The voices grew louder, and Olivia shrunk down as Shane and Donté entered the theater.

“Cool, cool,” Shane said. “So we gonna see you at the Ledge Sunday? Should be epic.” He held up his hand for a bro grab.

Donté gripped Shane’s hand and shoulder-bumped him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Sweet! You won’t be disappointed. Bangers and Mosh has a reputation for bringing out the honies, if you know what I mean.”

Donté laughed sheepishly. “No need, my man. No need. Got my eye on the one and only.”

Olivia’s heart leaped to her throat. The one and only. Again, he was talking about their song.

“I dig it,” Shane said. They passed Olivia without noticing her presence and sauntered down the aisle to the stage. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

“You definitely will,” Donté said. “Sunday should be a special night.”

Olivia huddled in the theater seat, heart racing. The one and only. Sunday should be a special night. Was Donté planning to make a move on her at the concert?

She pushed all thoughts of DGM and anonymous envelopes from her mind. None of it mattered. Sunday night. She needed a mani-pedi, lip and eyebrow wax, and bikini too. Her mind raced to her closet. The hand-me-down little black dress Amber had only worn once and the brand-new Jimmy Choo stilettos, also an Amber cast-off, still in the box. She had to look perfect. The night had to be perfect.

She and Donté were getting back together.