Free Dead is the New Black by Christine DeMaio-Rice Page A

triumphantly.
    “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mom mumbled, ripping into the romaine. There was silence for a second. Their father, a musician so heartbreakingly handsome he could make money playing spoons on a street corner, had left Mom when Laura was six months old. Mom had heard, years later, that he was seen dancing on a float in San Francisco’s Pride parade.
    “Well,” Ruby said, artfully changing the subject while keeping on point, “I’d give the husband a good look. He’s been like hands-off with the fashion business but, to me, that means he might have looked at it one day and found out something he didn’t like.”
    “And he killed her?” Laura was incredulous. “In the office?”
    “I’m just saying.”
    Mom interjected, “What goes on between married people, Laura, I promise you, it’s always complicated.”
    As if she finished just in time to break an unbearable tension, Ruby held up her sketchbook, and they looked.
    “It’s gorgeous,” Laura said, already making the pattern in her mind. “That bustle alone is like, eleven yards.”
    “Maybe we can get some cheap poly from Harry’s?”
    Mom crossed her arms. “I’m not sewing your wedding gown in some garbage.”
    “But, Mom…” Ruby flipped the book around and looked with big doe eyes at her gown. “I can’t afford it in nice fabric.”
    “You can buy a designer one from Centennial.”
    “You can alter it to be totally different,” Laura said.
    Ruby got red-faced. “You know I can’t do any of that stuff.”
    “Well, duh.” Laura pointed to herself. “You know I’m doing it, right?”
    Ruby softened and looked at her sketch. “He’s never going to go for it.” She slid the pad into her bag, along with her vision of the perfect dress. “He’s spending everything on the band.”
    Laura couldn’t look at Ruby for the crime of cheapening everything about herself, every beauty, every gift, every blessing. She wanted to choke her more at that moment than she ever had before. And since she’d wanted to choke her for most of their lives, that was saying a lot.

CHAPTER 9.

    Tinto called at six thirty the next morning to let Laura know she wasn’t going to Rikers. After one visit, it had become a regular date he had to break. He said something about an arraignment or an indictment that she didn’t understand, and something else about a grand jury. He closed with, “I think he’ll be back at the office slave-driving you guys by the end of the week. But be up early tomorrow, wouldja? Because he’s going to start talking about dresses and crap, and I don’t care.”
    Laura contemplated the ceiling for a good long time. Since Jeremy wouldn’t be there at seven thirty with fancy coffee and simple conversation, she had every reason to stay in bed, thinking about the office. There was a fitting at two, and none of the prep was done, so she couldn’t call in sick.
    She was going to have to keep it together for the rest of the week. She wasn’t used to dealing with inter-office politicking, and now she had to be an expert at it, when all she wanted to do was sit and do her work. She had faced challenges from all sides yesterday and felt like she’d flubbed every one.
    She counted her blessings. Yoni had been up front about how she felt. Laura knew what to expect from her and, gratefully, she could expect her to continue managing production without guidance from Jeremy, which meant Laura could go about her business on the other side of the office and not worry about having to tell Jeremy something had fallen through the cracks.
    Carmella and André, on the other hand, had been less forthright. Carmella had buddied up, and André had bullied. Most likely, she’d cut André loose and let him do whatever he wanted, since he ran his department, anyway. Carmella was something different entirely. Jeremy expected Laura to make sure the show came off well, which was Carmella’s responsibility. She could easily go off the rails