Chapter 53: Bad Girls Cut A B!tch

Mac

The click of the door wakes me, and I crack an eye to see Kat's head peeking in. Her shiny dark hair flows down the door frame.

"Hey," I croak.

"Hey." Kat eases in the door. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Adam wanted me to check on you."

I slide to sitting. "Is he awake?"

"Oh yeah. For a couple hours. He seems much better. He's carrying furniture...we're having dinner in the backyard."

"Hours?" I grab my phone. It is almost 5pm. Oh god, I slept all day! "Why did you guys let me sleep so long?"

"Adam said to. Anyway, you're awake for the best part." She looks at me critically. "Do you need...some help getting ready? I don't think you are going to want to go grunge for this dinner." Her eyes go soft. "It's so pretty, Mac. Strings of lights between the trees and all the mismatched chairs and fine china and linens and magnolias and the table just goes on forever, because there are so many people. MJ is really going all out for Adam's birthday dinner. Do you have anything white and flowy to wear? That might be good," Kat's voice is dreamy.

I jump off the bed and shake her. Not hard, just for emphasis. "Snap back to reality from your Pinterest fantasies! This is not a country wedding."

Kat grins wickedly. "No, but you could get engaged..."

I step back from her like she's burned me. "Nooooo, he wouldn't dare ask again! Not in front of his family!" Would he? No. I think we are on the same page about that now. Pretty sure the question of marriage is on the back burner until after Babycakes is born. Even in Adam's mind. One life-changing event at a time.

"I guess you are right," Kat says breezily, "Plenty of time for that." She hooks a thumb toward the door. "You want me to get Tamara?"

I roll my eyes. "I look that bad, huh?"

Kat raises her eyebrows with another evil grin. "I figure you don't need fake friends, so I'll tell you the truth. You look like you rolled out the trailer park."

"I see being an Instagram Star has boosted your confidence," I say wryly. "Just showin' my roots, I guess. I didn't grow up in starched sundresses on a hundred and fifty year old family farm. Or in a million dollar Atlanta McMansion. I did live in a trailer. So watch yourself. I cut a bitch once. She was less bitchy than you." I give her the killer face.

Kat purses her lips playfully and leans into my face. "Liar."

"You tell yourself that, so you can sleep easy tonight," I saunter into the bathroom.

I'm totally lying. About the cutting. Not the trailer.

My dad went through a rough time financially after his third divorce. Stepmom #3 got the house, and my dad had to scrounge a place for us, after Leed was already at UGA. We were only there in that trailer park half a year, but it was long enough for me to make friends—and enemies—with the crew there.

Truth was, I was the bitch in danger of being cut, because I blew in with an attitude about being there. Then I accidentally screwed the Queen Bee's loser boyfriend. That girl was a scrapper, too, and unfortunately she resided in the trailer next door to mine. I called Leed at UGA to jokingly say good-bye--told him my ass was grass come the weekend at the trailer park. Friday afternoon when I got home from school, Leed was there at the trailer for the first time--hair grown out, muscles tightened up, newly tatted, cleaning up the yard around the trailer shirtless and sweaty. Raking his long hair around and showing off his six-pack and giving Queen Bee his undeniable come-over-here-girl chin tip.

The Rock Star had been born, and she was his first fangirl.

He charmed her...right out of her Daisy Dukes, and then told her they couldn't keep messing around if she was going to be mean to his sister. That bitch became my best damn friend. We actually had some good times being bad together.

He changed that girl's life, too—she started reading all those new-agey books he likes and drinking green smoothies and shit. She went from mean girl with a switchblade to counter-culture free spirit with meditation beads. Last I heard, she was bumming around Southeast Asia with her consolation prize—a bar musician that looks suspiciously like Leed. They have a YouTube Channel that documents their adventures and his music. It's funny when he covers Soundcrush. They seem happy in the videos, though.

And like Queen Bee, I can't really convince Kat I'm a badder bitch than her. "I'm going to get Tamara," she yells. "She's gonna wash that bullshit right out of your hair and turn you into Adam's Teenage Dream."

I take a rapid shower so that Kat won't see me naked. I'm definitely on the edge of showing. It's probably good that we are going to announce the baby this weekend, because I don't know how much longer we can keep Babycakes hidden, anyway. By the time she and Tamara get back, I have on a robe and I'm drying my hair with a diffuser. Tamara does my makeup in less than twenty minutes and twines the top of my hair back into a waterfall braid that accentuates my falling stream of strawberry blonde curls.

Then we have wardrobe issues. We didn't buy anything special for this weekend and now I see—we totally should have. Most of my stage clothes are locked in a truck somewhere. My travel clothes aren't going to work here, where every other woman I've seen looks like they belong in a country music video or sitting with their legs crossed on a church pew. The only thing even close to appropriate was the pink skirt and white tank I wore to LA, but they are crumpled and dirty at the bottom of my bag. We never got around to sorting through that bag for cleaning. It's not easy, keeping track of everything on tour.

"All of this is all wrong!" I shout, slapping down a pair of leggings with see-through cut-outs. "Why are all my clothes either black, glittery, ripped or flannel!?!?" I yell at Tamara, after we have discarded every single option in my bags.

She laughs at me. "Cause you have two modes—stripper and grunge goddess. Ain't my fault you all the sudden want to dress like a Preacher's Wife, and you didn't give me a heads up."

Kat dissolves into giggles. I snatch up my makeup bag and pull out a nail file.

"I have a blade right here, bitch!" I yell, just to relieve my feelings.

Of course that's the exact moment Adam's mom peaks her head in the door. "I heard shouts. Is everything all right?" Her face is unreadable, but she's asking me. She knows exactly who was doing the shouting.

I smile sheepishly. "Just...we're just joking around," I say lamely. I am frustrated, but Tamara and Kat know I'm not mad at them. Still, it seems kind of shameful to admit I'm pitching a fit over my outfit.

Huh. Diva really sneaks up on you.

Joely nods easily. "Just checking. Mostly everyone is back from cleaning up. Just waiting on Eli to wake up from his nap and then Tyler will ride over with him. Take your time."

I nod. The way the Heartley's function actually reminds me of life at Utopia. The Heartley's live on a kind of commune, too. The family owns hundreds of acres, and Adam's sisters were all given land as wedding presents, and they all built houses on the property. They use rugged golf carts called Gators to move between their various houses and the fields of crops, and the lake. They are a tight knit group, sharing chores and kid care and apparently, lots of dinners.

"We'll be right there. I'm sorry I slept all day...I...I wanted to help. With the dinner. For Adam's birthday."

She shakes her head. "It's fine. Adam slept most of the day too. It's an adjustment, from your late-night lifestyle, I'm sure." She withdraws, but not before I see the frown that pulls down just as she turns away. The rest of SCIC didn't sleep all day...just her son that she wanted to spend time with, and his girlfriend, whom she probably figures kept him up all night. I did, just not doing whatever she might be imagining.

Kat slips her arm around me, and side-eyes me. "Trade ya. Heartley's for del Marco's. Matt and company are way out of my comfort zone, sometimes."

I laugh. "Ya know what? I might actually go for that trade...except there's no way I would let Adam go with the deal."

She laughs. "That's right. And you'd be the bitch cut, if you offered to take up Trace in the bargain."

In the end, I borrow a mint-green dress with an artistic floral pattern from Kat. She's dropped a size since being in LA, and I've picked up a size, so now we meet in the middle. It's a halter dress tying behind the neck, with a high stretchy waist band that conceals Babycakes perfectly beneath. The skirt is just above my knees in the front, and flows prettily to floor length in the back. Tam distracts Kat while I slip into it, so there's no chance of her seeing my curving front. Fortunately I do still have those glittery sandals that Adam likes so much.

"You look engagement worthy," Kat whispers as I put on dangling gold earrings.

"Shut-up!" I laugh at her. "Why do you want me to get engaged so bad?"

She shrugs. "Vicarious living, I guess."

"Nope," Tamara says. "You think once one Soundcrush dude is locked down, they will start falling like domino's."

Kat looks away, grinning.

"Bitch, you really do!" I exclaim. I swat at her cornflower yellow mini. "Kat, you are too young to get engaged!" I scold.

She shrugs. "It's not that I want to get engaged. It's more like...I want Trace to make us official. Nobody knows we are dating exclusively, except the SCIC and his family. Every fangirl still wants a bite out of him. More than ever, with the whole del Marco thing. So yeah, it has crossed my mind that once the Soundcrush guys start to settle down, I won't have to worry about fangirls so much. It's not easy..." she sighs.

"The long-distance?" I ask.

"No...trusting him. We spent two and half years apart, without even speaking. And during that time he married my sister and hid it from me. Now, he's hiding me, like he hid Ashlynn. It's not that I don't love him. I do. I always have...but, he's never done this...monogamy. But he has done marriage. The fact that he won't make us official...it makes me wonder if he and I are really...more than he and Ash were. I know we are different...affectionate, sexual, I mean...but I wonder if he still feels...married to her."

I push her pretty hair off her shoulders and plant my hands on her head. "Look at me. I spent a lot of time at Trace's house when Ashlynn was sober and staying there, because he and I were song-writing for our upcoming Portland trip. She and I became friends. I saw them together every day. There was nothing "married" about them. It mostly awkward or sad or sometimes tense between them. And even if it wasn't...even if they relaxed when the whole gang was around...the good time wouldn't last. He would bring you up...some memory the three of you shared, and Ashlynn would get sad, because she felt...guilty. She felt really guilty. I know he did too, but he's a dude and they just push through that kind of shit. Ash couldn't. That whole time they were married...I think she felt like the other woman. Like she was doing you wrong. I know that sounds weird, but it's true."

"That actually sounds...like Ash," Kat says softly.

"She's such a Pollyanna." I laugh.

Kat smiles. "She is too pure. She used to drive me crazy with her lectures and warnings about Trace getting us arrested."

I cock my head. "You miss her."

She sighs and pulls her head out of my hands. "I miss the old her...the Big Sister, but I think she died in surgery. I don't know that girl you met in LA—not the sober one, I mean. I know the Strung Out Ash, but I have a hard time picturing the Hippie Chic Ash you all say she is now, when she's sober."

"She's still your sister," I say softly. "I would love Leed, even he got hurt. If he were different."

Kat laughs. "That's because Leed is already different."

"I know that," I agree. "You know what else I know? Trace is one hundred percent committed to you. I see him every day, all day, and you are always on his mind. He is blind to any other women, and if they really push up on him, they get the bad-ass dismissing them. Bluntly. The way he loves you has re-oriented his libido. He is not into anybody but you. He's that much in love."

Kat's smile is too cute. "Yeah?" she asks.

"Fuck yeah." I confirm.

"Can we eat?" Tamara says, fixing her own lip gloss in the mirror. "I'm starving. Leed's baby is voracious," she complains. My head snaps. I haven't heard her say anything like.

"Leed told the guys," she shrugs. "I'm sure Trace told you, right Kat?"

"He did. Sorry," Kat mumbles.

"It's okay. You can't keep good gossip under wraps," she sighs. "It's a good thing. I mean, it will be hard at first, all three of us being parents, but eventually, it will be best for the baby, and that's what's important. I just wish Leed would talk to me about it."

Kat and I nearly head bump, both of us rushing to hug Tamara in the relatively tight space in the bathroom. "Owwww!" Kat complains. "I miss the hot tub sharing. Better than bathroom sharing!"

"Let's get out of here, then. Let's fucking eat, I'm starving, too."

Kat sighs. "I'm always starving."

"You're the one that wanted to be a WITCH," I wink at her. "Now you gotta keep up with genetically superior porn stars. You've traded all your hard earned muscles that Colin gave you to live on Red Bull."

"I'm not fueled by Red Bull," she says defensively. "I just gave up all carbs and traded lifting for Pilates. I still eat. A little. Every day," she grins.

"Well, I'm rebelling," I wink at her, patting my slightly thicker fame. "Eventually the label will invoke my contract clause, and I'll have to tighten up, but this weekend I'm eating Adam's birthday cake."

"You really have an appearance clause in your contract?" Kat whispers.

I nod. "You don't? I heard the WITCHES have pretty strict ones."

She blinks. "I...I don't. My contract is just code of conduct and employment expectations stuff."

I laugh. "Perks of dating in the del Marco family, I suppose."

"Well, let's go enjoy the perks of Mac dating in the Heartley Family...lots of sugar and butter and chocolate!" Tamara yanks open the door and we stride to the kitchen.

"Ladies and Gentleman, The Dixie Chicks are in the house," Bodie jokes as we move past him.

I resist the urge to flip him off, because Janie is just ahead of us, scurrying out of the kitchen and through the massive family room, on her way to the backyard, carrying a monstrous bowl of spinach salad and salt and pepper grinders under her arm.

"Can I help?" I ask.

She glares at me. Actually glares at me...like, with disgust.

"I doubt it." Her voice is ice and she keeps walking.

"What.Was.THAT?" Kat growls, the HellKat rising in her. "You want me to go get that nail file?" Tamara huffs.

"You need a nail file, MacKenna?" Alex's distracted voice rises behind us and we all jump guiltily. She's blowing her overgrown bangs out of her face, looking a little hot as she balances Eli on her hip and a large dish in the other hand. "I think there might be one in the kitchen junk drawer...ask Brett to show you..."

"No, no, I don't need a nail file..."I look down at my chipping black gel nails and Alex's perfect French manicure. Damn, I do need a nail file. I curl my fingers under. "We want to help. I mean...I want to help." Kat and Tamara are already edging out the large French doors onto the deck, looking for their men. I get it. I'm with Adam twenty-four seven and they haven't seen Trace and Ben in weeks.

I reach my hands out. I really meant to take the dish from her, but Eli, apparently used to be passed from hand to hand, reaches out his little arms to me. Seeing that, Alex's expression goes from slightly distracted to...something indescribable, but negative. She twists her hip, rotating the child away from me, "No, no, baby. Brett, come take Eli before he falls down the steps."

"I got him," his father Tyler swoops him out of her arms, barely breaking his stride. "Pey, we need that baby-fence thing set up out back, a little help!" he yells, tossing Eli slightly in the air as he disappears through the house.

Alex is looking at me, her lips pursed tightly, like she's holding back words. I'm still standing there with my hands out, offering to take the dish. She adjusts it, waving me off. "Are you feeling...all right?"

Oh, she must be wondering if I have the same bug...or the same hangover...as Adam. "Yep. I'm totally fine. Good as new." I say cheerfully.

She nods slowly, looking me up and down. "I can see that. You look, completely recovered from your...ordeal this morning."

"It wasn't that big of a deal. I've had worse mornings," I assure her. Lotvs worse. Lack of sleep is nothing compared to morning sickness. Thank goodness that's starting to ease off.

She just nods and give me another tight smile. "Well, that's...both a sorrow and blessing I suppose." She wanders out the door like she's lost in thought, leaving me standing there, alone in the crowd of purposeful people, pondering what the hell she meant.

I wander to the kitchen to see if there's anything else left to carry out. I pick up a stack of small dishes. "Oh no, no, those are for dessert. We'll take those out when we clear," Brett smiles. "MJ made a huge Strawberry Birthday Cake for Adam." She leans in close. "Personally, I'm going to eat a fuck-ton."

I grimace. "Heard about that, did ya?"

"Hard to keep secrets in this crowd," she says sympathetically. "Tyler was out of town when I found out I was pregnant with Billie. I only told Alex because I had to tell someone, but then she swore Mom to secrecy. Mom swore Dad to secrecy and then then next day...Tyler learned he was going to be a daddy from being accidentally included in a group text." She smiles at the memory.

"That sucks. That must have been disappointing. Not being able to tell him, see his face," I smile wistfully, thinking of Adam and I, sweating and nervous in a dirty backstage bathroom in Virginia. The look on his face when he read that test made it perfect.

Brett jerks suddenly, like she's touched a hot stove. "Oh. Oh god, I'm so sorry. That was...too...personal, with you, right now. I...I'm sometimes like that. I overshare."

"It's okay," I say slowly.

"No, really. I'm sorry." She pats my arm, but her look is...off. I don't get it, but before I can figure out how to respond, she wanders off.

Every one is outside now. I hear laughter rolling in through the open French doors. I should go out there, but I can't make my feet move. It feels like every time I try to reach out to one of these Heartley's, they back away. Is it me? Am I imagining it? I'm not crying...but it won't take much more to push me there. I feel so exposed here, with Adam's family. I'm trying so hard to do what he asks...to shed my tough girl skin and be the gentler me, but it feels foreign to me. His family is not exactly making it easy. All I really want to do is get out of here...just me and Adam.

"There you are," Adam's voice is cheerful behind me. I turn. He's brimming with energy, his eyes happy. All trace of gray is gone, replaced by flush. I guess he's worked up a sweat, setting up the tables outside.

"Feeling better?" I ask.

He nods, "Oh yeah. Fine. Looking at you, I feel just fine," his lips part, and his excited gaze travels from the top of my braided head to the tips of my sandaled toes. "MacKenna Lawson, you keep surprising me. Country girl looks gorgeous on you."

"I'm glad you think so," I say hoarsely and slam into him, wrapping fiercely around his neck.

I need to touch him so badly right now. Touching Adam gives me resolve. When his arms go around me, I feel his power and goodness encircling me. I draw it in. I choke down the tightness in my throat. I choose to be an in-spite-of. I will not get overwhelmed and run away like my mother did. I will not whine and complain that his mother, his sisters don't like me. Of course they don't. I've treated Adam like a yo-yo for years. If they even know half of the times I've reeled him in, pushed him away, made him hope, then disappointed him...they have reason not to like me.

I deserve all their reservations.

It's going to take time, for me to earn their trust. So I will not hang my head like a little girl and run away with my feelings hurt. I'll suck it up, and take whatever shade they throw, without throwing back. Until they get tired of punishing me. I can take it. I'm tough.

Today isn't about me. It's about Adam. His birthday, his family, his happiness, and his health. Searching his eyes, even though they are glowing I just have this feeling...something's off with him. He looks energized but there's a tenseness in his body, still. I can feel it beneath my hands.

"You really feel better?" I ask, searching his face, my hands roaming down his stomach to the place where Sidney poked him last night.

He grabs my hands, pulling them behind my back, capturing me as he walks up backwards into his mother's large pantry and shuts the door, pressing me into the only space of bare wall—in the corner.

"I feel better. Problem is...you in this dress, your hair so sweet, curled and braided, and those shiny fuck-me-sandals...sweet Jesus, it's killing me. Looking at you like this, I don't think there's any fucking way I can sit through dinner."

One calloused hand slides up my bare back to tug on the ties of my halter top,sending sparks up my spine. His other hand pushes the silky skirt up my thigh. The feeling of his warm hand teasing the band of my panties just below my heavy womb floods my sex with heat.I moan, and Adam groans in response.

"Fuck me...it's a whole new you to play with, Shortcake, and it's been a couple days, you know?"

Well that explains his tenseness, I guess. He's hard all over, now. And making it very evident, pressing his cock through his khaki pants and against my bare thigh.

"Adam," I breathe, pushing at him futilely as he grinds against me. "I want you, too. God, any time you touch me now, I want to give myself to you every way you want...but baby...don't do this to me. Not right now. Don't make me the bad girl that fucks you in your mother's pantry, holding up dinner. They'll know exactly what we've done."

Adam makes a sound of disappointment and pushes off with both hands, making space between us. His head rolls back to the ceiling like he's summoning strength. "You're right, Shorty. You're exactly right. I can't take you here like this. There isn't even a damn lock on the door. I think being here in this house and knowing I can't have you in my bed is driving me insane," he sighs. "I'm going to say bad things now. I need a little relief."

"Bad things?"

"Naughty words," he grins.

I laugh. "Go for it, baby."

He braces himself, one hand on the wall and one hand on the canned goods shelf and growls. "Shit.Fuck.Pussy.Bitch.Doo-Doo Damn."

I slap a hand over my mouth to stop the squeal of mirth. That's my Preacher. "That's all you got? I was hoping you'd talk dirty to me, get it out of your system."

Danger spreads across his face. It looks good on him. "You think I'm not always a filthy fucking animal for you? You need to hear it? You want me to say it?"

I'm shaking, from laughter, but also from desire. The heat racing all over my skin—I want nothing more than to ignite under his touch. But if I can't have that, words will have to do.

"Say what you need to say, Preacher," I goad him.

He growls the words low against my ear, "I have no goddamn idea how  I can get through this bitch of a dinner, when all I'm gonna want to do is throw you up on that table and fuck you five ways to Sunday. I wouldn't care who walked away, or who stayed to watch. Pound you like you fucking love, so damn long it makes you scream. til you lose your sexy voice. Yeah, fucking you hoarse, sounds like motherfucking heaven. Make you come so goddamn hard you almost pass out. After that, while you are still completely fuck-drunk, I might take your ass for the very first time. And believe me, Shortcake, you would fucking love it—giving me every last part of you. And so would I."

Tears are streaming down my face. I don't even care about my makeup. Being at home must make Adam tense as shit, because he has completely lost his cool and it's both the biggest turn-on and the funniest shit I have ever heard in my whole life.

"Preacher!" I exclaim in a whisper of fake horror. "I think we might have to retire your nickname, after all."

He lunges for my lips and give me a long hard kiss, touching me no where else. My ears roars, my heart pounds, my lungs scream for release. This pantry could blow up and I couldn't hear or see it because Adam fills my senses. There is nothing but his lips demanding mine. I push him away, quickly—while I still can, before he demands more.

I wipe my tears away, still shaking silently, refusing to let the screams of laughter rip from throat. "Oh god, Adam," I whisper. "It's too much. It hurts too much," I say, meaning it hurts too much to fight the laughter. And desire.

"I know," he murmurs leaning his head against the wall and adjusting his cock. "Look what you've done to me. We're both ruined now...nothing but stone-cold-killers." He jokes, but his voice is raw and throaty, almost like he's in pain.

A gasp, a sound of something soft thudding, and Adam pushes off the wall quickly. His mother is standing in the open pantry door, her face pinched in pain, her hand over her mouth.

"Mom!" he says, his voice shaky and shocked. "Oh god!" Adam bites his knuckle and then presses his fingers against the wall, bowing his head. All laughter has left me. I'm staring at Joely with wide fearful eyes and she's staring at Adam like he's a complete stranger hiding in her pantry.

"Mom," he takes a step toward her. "That was......that was only meant to be between me and Mac...we're ...I don't know what to say. Shit...how...how much of that did you hear?"

"Enough."

He winces. "I'm so sorry. So very sorry. You shouldn't have to...hear that...carry that..." He looks at me, I nod, too. "It was...the timing...it was all wrong...we shouldn't have..."

Joely just shakes her head, and holds up a hand to stop him, stumbling backwards into the kitchen. "Adam, I'm sorry too.. Let's...just...get through dinner. Your father is waiting to say Grace." She shoots a piercing look of pain towards me, and she turns on her heals, out the back French doors, hurrying down the steps.

"Fuuuuuuuuuckkkk!" Adam groans, slamming his fist against the wall. I jump.

I slide my hand up his arm. "Adam, I'm so sorry..." The tears flowing now are not of laughter, but of sadness for him. "Adam, I don't think she was there the whole time...maybe she didn't hear everything..."

"Did you see the look on her face?" he shakes his head. "And that's not the worst of it...Mac, oh Jesus, I'm so sorry, baby. Please forgive me. Those things I said about you were never for anyone else to hear."

"Forgive you?" I say softly, turning him around, seeking his face, seeking understanding. He doesn't need to ask me for forgiveness for anything.

"Mac, I love you. I never want to...demean you, to anyone, ever...or make you uncomfortable in any way...I was just blowing off steam...now I've ruined this..."

"Adam. We were playing and it was hot and hilarious and I know how much you love me. It's okay." It is okay, between us. I want to crawl in a hole and hide, or jump in the lake and swim away, or do anything but sit down to dinner with his mother right now, but I won't. I won't make Adam feel any more shame than he already feels by adding my own shame to it.

"Come on," I say, taking his hand, squeezing it hard. "Put your Rock Star on. Let's just...do this."

His eyes go wide. "You mean that? You aren't thinking...run and hide?"

"Of course, I am," I snort. "But you always come through for me. No way am I leaving you along in this mess," I smile gently at him.

He closes his eyes and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing gently. "I love you, MacKenna Lawson. Vast and relentless. Like the ocean. I'll never stop."

"You say that now. But I'm committed to eating a fuck-ton of your birthday cake, remember? I'm gonna get really fat, overnight," I whisper, and I'm happy when it makes him laugh.

"Sometimes, there's nothing left to do but get drunk or eat your feelings. Only one option for you, Little Mama," he says and he pulls me toward our mutual dread.

Poor Mac! Every time she reaches out she's getting rebuffed by a Heartley woman. Do you think she's going to be able to keep up her resolve? What about Adam's miraculous recovery? What's going on there? And here's the big question...how much to you think MJ heard of Adam's dirty sexy speech, if any ? And how did she interpret what she heard?

Uhhhhhmmmm...dinner is about to be interesting, I think! Thoughts?  On that?

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