“Yes, ma’am. I have Ubers lined up outside. No paparazzi at present.” The older man clutched a handful of disposable-looking tops and bottoms.

Lorna nodded and moved back to the stove like she did this sort of thing every day. “Good. And, Tom, you don’t have to call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma—” He bit off the last word and proceeded into the living area.

“What’s happening here?” Chase managed to swallow the eggs without gagging and watched as the man disappeared.

Her mother turned away from her and scraped the skillet with the wooden spoon. “What do you think, Chase? Yet again, I’m having to save us from your bad decisions.”

Us.

Chase studied her mother. Now she could see the anger present beneath the controlled words. Lorna set the spoon down, her blue eyes moving past Chase to the security guy, who escorted a woman wearing a T-shirt and a pair of the disposable bottoms by the elbow.

“What the hell, man?” the woman said, trying to jerk away. “I told you my password. Now give me my shit back.”

“We have a car for you outside,” Tom said, ignoring her words and struggles.

Lorna opened the door, and another uniformed man stepped forward. Tom clicked a few things on the phone and handed it to the other guy. “She’s good.”

One by one, the other occupants of the living room left the same way. Chase sat and watched, pushing the eggs around on her plate as her mother leaned against the counter and studied her phone with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Finally, Jordan was escorted into the kitchen. Chase looked down and studied her plate.

“Yo, we didn’t do nothing wrong. We were invited here, so I don’t know why you’re busting our balls and shit.” Jordan had put on clothes. Thank God.

“I understand, sweetheart,” Lorna said, setting her phone on the counter. “But it’s time for you to go home.”

Jordan looked at Chase. “You invited us. Tell this bitch.”

Chase opened her mouth and then closed it. She still wasn’t sure where she was or what exactly had happened.

Or what was happening now.

So she shrugged and looked away.

“This is such bullshit,” Jordan muttered, grabbing the phone from Tom. “And I want my shit back. It belongs to me.”

Lorna gave her cat-with-a-feather-in-its-mouth smile. “Cocaine is illegal, sugar.”

Oh no. Lorna had gone southern on poor Jordan.

Jordan looked at Chase’s mother as if he knew a trap had been laid. A few seconds ticked by. “Yeah. So?”

“So that means we’re gonna flush it down the toilet, sweetie. It’s not good for you.” Lorna made her refusal sound so caring. Chase knew it wasn’t about caring. The woman wouldn’t care if Jordan walked outside and got obliterated by a bus. This was about power.

Jordan made a face. “Yeah. I get that. But—”

“No, no. There are no buts in this, young man. If you want that co-caine back, you’re going to have to call the po-lice. You don’t want to call the po-lice, do you, su-gah?” Now Lorna had gone Deep South on Jordan.