Magenta Mine: An Invertary Novella (13 page)

Every insecurity Magenta struggled with surged to the forefront of her mind. Her dirty secret was out. Now Kirsty knew that she’d hired an idiot. The thought burned. It actually physically burned. A searing pain in her stomach. How could Harry have done this to her? No. He couldn’t have. This wasn’t the kind of thing Harry would do. He’d never gossip about her to Rachel. Something else was going on here.

Rachel leaned in towards her. “Face facts, little girl—you are far too stupid for Harry. You will drag him down and everyone will get hurt. He’s too busy and important to waste time explaining every tiny little thing to you in small words so you can understand. Let him go to London and you can stay here, selling underwear and pretending you aren’t as dumb as you look.”

“Oh hell,” Kirsty wailed.

Magenta barely noticed her cry. All she saw was that smirk on Rachel’s face, and the next thing she knew, her fist was flying straight for it.

21

Harry was in the middle of an enlightening conversation with his high school English teacher when his phone rang. He apologised profusely as he reached for it, thinking it would be work. He was puzzled to see Kirsty’s name on the screen.

“Hey, Kirsty,” he said as he smiled at Mrs. Adams.

“Get your backside to my shop right now. You need to stop Magenta from killing Rachel. Oh crap, got to go.”

The line went dead. Harry stared at the phone for a second. What the…?

“I’m sorry, I need to go. Kirsty said Magenta is in a fight at the lingerie shop.” He could hardly believe the words came out of his mouth.

Mrs. Adams didn’t look surprised. “Some things never change. That girl has always had a short fuse, especially if someone called her an idiot.”

Harry’s stomach tried to climb out of his oesophagus as the blood drained from his face. Rachel wouldn’t. Would she? He hung his head. He should never have told Rachel about Magenta’s dyslexia.

“I need to run. Now.”

He was out of the door at a sprint as Mrs. Adams called out her goodbyes behind him.

The high school, like everything else in Invertary, wasn’t far from the main street. It took Harry less than five minutes to get to Kirsty’s shop. What he saw made him screech to a halt.

On the floor, in the middle of a completely trashed lingerie shop, were two wrestling women. Magenta’s T-shirt was ripped, flashing a fuchsia-coloured bra. Her hair was wild and there was a crazy glint in her eye. Rachel’s designer dress was up around her hips, allowing everyone to see that she was wearing underwear from Kirsty’s new pink tartan line. There was a scrape on her thigh and it looked like her manicured fingernails were broken. She was also missing one of those red-soled shoes she loved so much. Magenta was on Rachel’s back, trying to strangle Rachel with a green satin bra. Rachel, in turn, had a death grip on a leg that had broken off a mannequin. She was using it to pummel Magenta. The noise was phenomenal. He’d heard quieter catfights.

Harry’s jaw fell open as he spotted his cousin Matt, in full police gear, and Kirsty’s fiancé Lake standing off to the side. Both men were grinning as they watched the fight.

“Why the hell aren’t you stopping this?” Harry shouted at them.

“We tried,” Matt said. “Magenta kicked me with those bloody boots she has on. I think they have steel toe caps.”

“Rachel bit me.” Lake held up his hand, which had a Band-Aid on it.

“We decided to enjoy the show until they ran out of steam,” Matt said.

“Not every day you see women wrestling in a lingerie shop.” Lake let loose with a full-blown grin. “I told Kirsty to film it. Rachel’s wearing one of Kirsty’s designs. She could use this for publicity.”

Matt nodded. “I’d watch it again. Especially since they started using lingerie as weapons.”

“We need to break this up,” Harry told the idiots. “Kirsty’s shop is getting trashed.”

“Yep,” Lake said. “You’re paying to have it fixed.” He pointed at the women. “This is your mess.”

Before Harry could reply, Kirsty came barrelling through from the back of the shop, carrying a bucket.

“Out of my way, you perverts,” she shouted.

The men stepped aside. Lake eyed the bucket.

“You’re a genius,” he told his fiancée. He turned to Matt. “What would make this better?”

They grinned like idiots. “Water,” they said at the same time.

Harry was about to step in and haul Magenta off Rachel—well, try to, anyway—but Kirsty was too fast. She emptied the bucket of cold water over the two women. There was coughing and spluttering. The women broke apart as they wiped water from their eyes. Rachel tried to stand, but slid on the wet floor. It took her two more attempts before she was on her feet, and then she realised her dress was around her waist. With a growl, she yanked it back down. Magenta sat on the floor, wiping her face on the edge of her T-shirt.

“Was that really necessary?” Magenta snapped at Kirsty.

Kirsty stood with her hands on her hips, her green eyes blazing. “Was it necessary to trash my shop because you have anger management issues?”

Harry looked around at the sodden underwear that littered the floor. Kirsty had a point.

“She started it,” Magenta complained.

“What are you? Five?” Kirsty looked like she was going to restart the fight herself. “Get this place fixed. I want it perfect.” She turned to Harry, who held up his hands in surrender. “You too. This is your mess. I’m surrounded by juvenile idiots who hit first and think later.” She spun on Lake and Matt. “You two are no better. You could have stopped this before the damage got this bad.” She pointed at Lake. “Consider your sex life on hold for the foreseeable future.”

“Kirsty, love…” Lake’s face paled with worry.

“Don’t ‘Kirsty, love’ me, Lake Benson. You wanted to watch the show. Well, now you can pay for it too.”

Kirsty held her head high as she stomped to the back of the shop and the stairs to her apartment. Everyone watched her leave, then, as one, the three men folded their arms and turned to the two soaking women.

“Now I’m annoyed,” Lake said as he watched her go.

“Assault, criminal damage, vandalism,” Matt said. “Those are only the charges I can think of off the top of my head. I could add public nudity, seeing as you’ve both been flashing your wares for the past twenty minutes. If I could charge you with stupidity, I would.” He shook his head. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t haul the two of you back to my jail?”

“Because we’re sorry?” Rachel said hopefully.

Matt gaze was cold. “Are you?”

“I am.” Rachel sounded firm. It would have held more authority if she’d had on both shoes and wasn’t soaking wet.

“Magenta?” Matt cocked an eyebrow at her where she still sat in a puddle on the floor.

She looked defiant. “I’m not sorry. I’d kick her skinny backside again in a heartbeat. She’s a cold-hearted, manipulative witch.”

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lake, what do you want? Do you want to press charges, seeing as you co-own the shop?”

The Englishman studied the women. “It’s tempting. These two have kicked me out of Kirsty’s bed.”

“Technically you did that all by yourself,” Magenta pointed out. “If you weren’t such a big pervert you’d still be in her bed.”

Lake made a little growling sound, although his face showed no emotion. “I want this place cleaned. Pristine. I want the damage paid for.” He turned to Harry. “Sort this. I have more important things to deal with.” He turned on his heels and stalked from the shop, heading to the apartment he shared with Kirsty.

“You heard the man,” Matt said. “Looks like you get off with a warning. This time.” He glared at Magenta. “It’s time you grew up. You’re an adult. You and those twit sisters of mine need to start acting like grown-ups. No more kids’ pranks. No more sorting your problems with your fists. No more hiding from people instead of dealing with things. I’ve had enough of this. Am I making myself clear?”

Magenta gave a reluctant nod.

Matt turned to Rachel. “Stop playing people. Or I will run you out of town. Got it?”

Rachel nodded as her cheeks flushed red.

“On that note”—Matt adjusted his police hat—“I’m out of here. Harry, you’re in charge. Make sure there isn’t any more trouble.” He strode to the door, but turned as he opened it. “Ladies, thanks for the show. It made my day.” With a cheeky grin, he disappeared.

Slowly, the two women turned their gazes to Harry.

22

“Right,” Harry said, “who’s going to explain first?”

Magenta stared at her shoes. It wasn’t going to be her. No way. The last thing she needed was the embarrassment of telling Harry she’d lost it because Rachel called her dumb. She
was
dumb. Rachel wasn’t wrong. Still, it hurt that Harry had run straight to his friend and told her all about how stupid Magenta was. So no. She wasn’t going to talk. Probably never again.

She peeked at Rachel. From the look on her face, she wasn’t going to talk either. Guess Harry was out of luck.

His jaw clenched as he frowned at them. His shoulders flexed, making Magenta’s mouth inappropriately water. She rolled her eyes at herself. Apparently her body was programmed to react to Harry no matter the circumstances. Harry growled. That was kind of sexy too. Magenta wanted to smack herself on the forehead.

Harry glared at Rachel. “Did you run over here to tell Magenta I thought she was dyslexic?”

Everything within Magenta stilled. What? Her eyes snapped to Harry. He was still glaring at Rachel, who was staring at the floor like a naughty school kid.

“Rachel?” he rumbled.

“No. I didn’t mention that.” Rachel was speaking to her feet.

Magenta’s heart thudded. She was missing something. Something important.

“What’s dyslexic?” she asked Harry.

His eyes shot to hers, and his expression softened. “It’s a learning disorder. It means you have problems processing written words. Your brain deals with language differently than most people. It can make it harder to read and write. It isn’t a reflection on intelligence. Einstein was dyslexic—so were Picasso and Agatha Christie. Tom Cruise and Richard Branson are too.”

He crouched down in front of her. Thoughts were zooming through Magenta’s mind so fast she could barely keep track of them. Harry’s eyes darkened with intimacy as he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“After what you told me, I thought you might be dyslexic. So I went to talk to Mrs. Adams. She agreed. That was the assessment she wanted to have done when you were in high school. She wanted you to be officially designated as dyslexic. That way you would have had the help you needed in school. She said you were—are—exceptionally bright. All you needed was some support with reading and writing.”

“They weren’t going to send me away?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“No.” Harry cupped her cheek, the warmth of his palm soothing. “No one was going to send you away. That was your mother’s imagination. She has a lot to answer for. Being assessed would have meant you’d get more time on tests, maybe someone to read things to you. You’d learn tricks to cope with writing. That sort of thing.”

Magenta stared at Harry for a long time. His smile was gentle and reassuring. He didn’t push her to process. A rush of emotions hit Magenta hard. The strongest one being hope. She blinked at Harry, almost scared to talk in case the emotions slipped out and overwhelmed her.

“You really didn’t know about dyslexia?” he said.

“I dropped out of school when I was thirteen, Harry. All I’ve worried about since then was how to hide my problems. Maybe if I’d talked to a teacher, or my doctor, I might have heard of dyslexia, but the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself.” She looked up at him. “I’m not stupid am I?”

“No, baby, you’re far from stupid.”

“I’m not stupid.” Magenta said, more to herself than anyone else. To her shame, a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

“Aw, baby,” Harry muttered. He sat on the floor, right in the water, and pulled Magenta onto his lap. His arms engulfed her, offering comfort and protection. Two things Magenta normally shunned.

She knew she should have objected. She knew how weak it made her look to be held like a child, especially in front of Rachel, but she didn’t care. She needed the contact, the support. In the seconds it’d taken Harry to tell her there was a reason for her difficulties, her whole world had changed. Everything she’d thought was real had been wiped away. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore. She’d spent her life thinking she wasn’t as clever as those around her; it would take some time to believe otherwise. As the weight of feeling inferior began to lift, hope that she might be normal blossomed in her mind. She rested her cheek on Harry’s chest and let him comfort her as her brain raced.

“There are these glasses you can get,” Harry said softly. “They have coloured lenses and they help to stop the words from dancing around the page. We’ll get you some of those. There’s also a society for people with dyslexia, they have loads of information on their website to help people cope. There are strategies you can use. We’ll go through them together. Dyslexia is different for each person. Some people have more issues to deal with than others, but all of it can be handled with support. It shouldn’t stop you doing anything you want to in life.”

Her heart stilled. She looked up at Harry. Her stomach clenched as she dared hope. “I can take the caving tests?”

“Yeah, baby, you can take the tests. We’ll tell them you’re dyslexic and they’ll accommodate you.”

Magenta buried her face in Harry’s shoulder. “I can become an instructor. Maybe start my own holiday caving business. I’ve always wanted to do that. I didn’t dare think about it. I knew it would never happen. I knew I was too stupid.”

“Sh. You aren’t stupid. You’re smart and talented and creative and ingenious. Nothing’s going to stop you now. You can dream all you like.”

He kissed the top of her head as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Someone cleared their throat, and Magenta remembered that Rachel was still in the room. She couldn’t look at the woman who had deliberately tried to hurt her.

“You two go,” Rachel said. “I’ll clean up.”

Harry glared at his friend. “That won’t make up for what you did. You betrayed my trust and attacked Magenta.”

“She hit me first,” Rachel snapped.

“You hurt her first. You came here to make her think she was stupid. That’s cruel. I’m not sure what’s going on in your head. I’m not sure who you are anymore. You and I are going to have a long talk later.”

“Yeah.” Rachel sounded defeated. “That’s probably a good idea.”

As Harry helped Magenta to her feet, she saw the look of shame on Rachel’s face. It helped soften the animosity Magenta held.

“I think,” Rachel said to Harry, but her eyes were on Magenta, “I should go back to London and head up the office there. You need to stay here.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harry told her as he grabbed Magenta’s hand and hauled her towards the door. “We’re still going to talk, though. I’m not sure I trust you the way I used to, and that will affect business.”

Rachel’s cheeks turned red. As they reached the door, Magenta pulled out of Harry’s grip. “I need to get my bag,” she said. “Wait outside.”

He looked over her head towards Rachel. “Don’t start the fight again.”

“Just getting my bag.” She hoped she pulled off an innocent look, but Harry didn’t seem convinced.

Magenta ducked away from him and trotted to the back of the shop, where she’d stowed her messenger bag. As she came back, she passed Rachel picking up sodden lingerie. She leaned in to the woman.

“You come between Harry and me again and I will drop you down a mine shaft where no one will ever find you. That’s a promise.”

The colour drained from Rachel’s skin, but she didn’t reply. With a smile, Magenta headed for Harry.

He clasped her hand in his and didn’t mention that he’d seen her speak to Rachel. Together, they walked up the high street towards the house she shared with the twins. She knew she looked a sight in her sodden and ripped clothes. She didn’t care. She wanted to shout from the rooftops that she wasn’t stupid. Tell the world she was normal after all. She was giddy with her newfound knowledge.

In front of the grey stone wall of the old Presbyterian church, Magenta turned to Harry. Her smile was wide as she looked up at him.

“I love you, Harry Boyle.”

His silver eyes grew dark as he grinned that slow, sexy grin of his.

“I knew you could say it without insulting me at the same time.”

Magenta rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

“With pleasure.” And then he did just that.