Rosario scrubbed away the tears with the back of her hand and sniffed.
Did she?
Would it make her feel better to find out that Mr Dubai had tacky taste in decor or that he'd spent more on his summer home than her mom had seen in a lifetime? To find proof that he was one hundred percent the douchebag she thought he was and that her life, and her mom's, and everyone's was better off without him in it?
...yeah, maybe it would, actually.
Or maybe she'd just feel shitty and guilty and miserable about the asshole genetics she'd inherited.
A movie might be the safer option. Some really dumb horror flick with a nonsense plot that she could pick apart loudly and still find herself diving under the sheets when the jump scares came.
But then she still wouldn't know. And knowledge was power.
And if there was anybody who could make her laugh at obnoxious rich people houses, it was Lyra.
"Yeah," Rosario said, firming her jaw decisively. "I wanna google the bastard."