—Mabel—

Suddenly, a black Maybach pulled up in the driveway.Absolutely no one but Angelina stepped out, in a yellow dress that clung to her frame and didn't make it past her thighs.

She tossed her hair in the wind and her overly red-painted lips curled with a smile as she strutted toward us.

She threw her arms open. “Mama!”

“What are you doing here?”

Mama Emelda's voice was sharp and cold. And her face had a scowl.

Angelina blinked dramatically and lowered her hands. “Oh, Mama. ...