The Lexus drove away, but the threat didn’t leave with Simon Ting’s car.

I’d wanted to run away when Alfonso had told me to get in the car. Like I would go easily. Might as well beg to be shot and dumped in some river, my bloated body washing up months later. I was pretty sure I’d seen that exact scenario in a movie before.

But refusing would’ve gotten me nowhere, nor trying to outrun Jay. I’d seen those long, muscled legs at work at the gym. And he’d promised me. He’d promised me I wouldn’t get hurt…

…and for some reason, I’d believed him.

I hadn’t been hurt, but Officer Ting’s threats still chilled me to the bone. He had files on my parents and Hank. Recent pictures. He didn’t know about Frasier yet, but if he kept digging, he would. And Jay would no longer be able to keep that promise to me. I didn’t have to guess who he would choose if it came down to his boss, or me.

His words from earlier echoed in my head.

Get off your high horse and stop judging me.

You manipulated and lied…

I don’t care about you at all.

His words tore at me, broke me apart when they should have meant nothing. Jay didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know about Fraze or how I had nothing to do with him borrowing from Ting. I’d planned on getting the money the right way. It wasn’t my fault I’d paid Ting with his own money before realizing it. But I couldn’t tell Jay without getting Fraze in more trouble. Not that Jay would’ve listened. Or believed me.

I’d made it to my apartment without remembering walking there. For once I didn’t notice the emptiness. Frustration and anger tore through me. I should’ve fought back, told Jay—not the truth—but something. Defended myself. Anything instead of crying like I was guilty. Like I was exactly who he thought I was.

His words stung, because there was some truth in them. I had thought myself better than him, better than Officer Ting, and Nico, even Bronwyn. Did I have the right to look down on others because they lived their lives differently? When they were just trying to get by, in the only way they knew how, like I was?

Part of me felt justified. I wasn’t perfect, but I was nothing like them. I wouldn’t borrow from a loan shark, I didn’t condone violence, I would never date someone who was toxic like Nico had been for Bronwyn.

But I wasn’t better. Just different. Hillstone was nothing like Vegas. My world was nothing like Jay’s, or Nico’s, or even Frasier’s. It had been friends and Hank, church and school. It had been simple.

I didn’t know what my world was now, or what I wanted it to be.

I got in the shower, hot water scalding my skin. My tears had dried up, my anger had dissipated. Now I felt scared, confused, and a little sad, though I didn’t know why.

I don’t care about you at all.

To: Frasier Hale,

---

From: Margaret Hale,

---

First of all, thanks for the Christmas present. I have no clue how you got my exact size! Now the girls at dance class can’t make fun of my homemade pair.

So, this is hard, and I’d rather call you, but I don’t have a number or any clue where you are. I’m pretty sure you’re not at some job with a record producer. Even if you were, you never said where, so I couldn’t call anyway. I know why you wouldn’t tell me. I know… I just know. Someone’s been asking about you. He saw us saying goodbye, but he doesn’t know you’re my brother. He hasn’t said anything to his boss and I don’t think he will.

---

I paused, my fingers hovering over my phone keys. Why was Jay keeping quiet? All this time he could have told Simon what he knew or suspected. He didn’t owe me anything. He didn’t even like me, not anymore—he’d made that clear. And Ting was like a father to him, he’d said so himself. So why lie for me?

I shook my head, then went back to my email.

---

This isn’t what I’m emailing you about though. It’s about Bronwyn.

She passed away. A drive-by shooting. I’m really sorry to tell you like this, but I didn’t want you to find out some other way, from some random person who heard from a person who heard from someone else.

I’m still living at her apartment, at least for now. The lease is up in the summer so I’ll have to go somewhere else since I can’t really afford this place (that extra money you gave me was a godsend, despite where it came from). Sometimes I don’t want to be here, though. Everything about it reminds me of her because it’s all hers.

Her family had a funeral for her in South Carolina. I couldn’t go. I’m sorry both of us missed it. I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry. To who, I don’t know. Just a general sorry, out into the void.

Anyway, I better go. I have a new job and I still have an audition to prepare for. Hope everything is good with you and that you’re safe and happy wherever you are. Don’t worry about me, and do not come back here.

My new job at Maquitte was everything I wanted it to be. Lacey Benwick, my boss, was like the big sister I never had with her clothing advice, asking about my day, and giving me hugs every time I walked into the store. The other worker there—Galen—was a skinny guy with light hair and porcelain skin, like he’d never seen the sun before. He was the one to train me, and it took me a few days to get used to his dry sense of humor. Once I caught on, we got along famously. I even had a bit of a crush on him, though I knew it would go nowhere (I wasn’t his type). But he was fun to talk to, a nice change from Nico and Jay—the only other people I knew in the city.

Mostly, I loved the job because it felt like stepping into another world, the world I wanted to live in. A world without Officer Ting or worrying how long it would take him to find out the truth about Fraze.

When he did, would he send Jay after me? Or come himself? I thought about leaving Vegas, but where would I go? I didn’t know how to disappear like Fraze did, and besides, Ting had photos of Hank and my parents. What if he went after them to get to me?

I stared at the display table, the decorations I’d placed on top blurring together.

“Have you turned into a mannequin?”

I glanced at Galen.

“Ah, back to a human girl. Just like that movie, Spaceballs.”

I snorted. “Does this look okay?” I motioned to the coffee table covered in a silver dish full of different sized colored balls, a vase of fake hydrangeas, and a stack of magazines.

He stood beside me, his hand on his chin like he was appraising expensive art.

“If Martha Stewart barfed, this is what would come out.”

I grimaced. “That bad?”

He patted my shoulder. “Predictable.”

He tossed the magazines into a nearby purse, added a couple of candles and a weird wooden bird, and then rearranged it all until it looked artfully random. I huffed.

“Baby steps, Margaret,” he said, patting my shoulder again, which I dodged. “Baby steps.”

“The bird is ugly.”

Galen went back to the hats. He put a newsboy cap on top of the mannequin, parking it at a jaunty angle. “Everything is ugly.” He exchanged the cap for a vintage looking cloche hat. He stepped back. The mannequin had on skinny moto jeans, a silk blouse covered by a menswear looking tweed vest, and long dangling gold chains. He sighed, a happy sigh. “Mix the right kind of ugly and it becomes beautiful.”

“Did you just make that up?”

“No, I have it embroidered on a pillow.”

I rolled my eyes.

Galen had an eye for this stuff and I was learning how much I really didn’t. I could appreciate a piece of clothing or an accessory, but could never make it work like he did. And he was right about one thing. He could take the ugliest of items and make them look just right, like that wooden bird watching me with its fake-jeweled beady eyes.

Lacey came onto the floor from the back, some newly steamed dresses over one arm. She glanced at the table. “Nice work, Maggie.”

Galen gave me the side-eye, but he didn’t need to. “Galen did it,” I said with a sigh.

“Nice work, Galen,” Lacey said, but she winked at me. “Maggie, find a place for these.”

I took the dresses carefully, not wanting to wrinkle them. They were silky and floral and looked like they’d just slipped off a girl from the forties. I started to hang them with some other dresses but stopped when Galen gave a loud, exaggerated cough. It took three more tries—and two more coughs—to finally find the right spot for the dresses, next to some Victorian looking silk blouses.

At the till, Lacey was fiddling with some small glass dishes full of sterling silver rings.

“Are you sure you don’t regret hiring me?” This wasn’t the kind of question I could’ve asked Craig at Holy Diner! or my boss in Hillstone. But Lacey was more than a boss, she was becoming a friend.

“Of course not,” she said. “You’re a hard worker.”

“But I suck at this.”

“Everyone’s tastes are different.” Lacey leaned her elbows on the desk. “I don’t expect you to be like Galen, or me.” Her mouth quirked. “Even my tastes have changed in the last few years.”

“They have?”

“Sure. I used to be very over-the-top. I might as well have been walking around with a neon sign saying ‘Look at me! Look at me!’”

“So how did you figure all this out?”

“I hit my head, went into a coma, woke up, and got married.” She laughed at my face. “It’s a long story. I’m sure my tastes will change again as I get older, or if I have kids. That’s how it works. All you need to focus on is putting your own touch to the pieces here.”

I nodded. The bell at the front door tinkled. Galen scooped up the new customers in a flash.

“Why did you hire me, anyway?” Not that I wanted to be fired. But I wanted to know who referred me.

“My husband heard you needed a job. You came highly recommended.” She shrugged, like it was no big deal, and headed to the back of the store.

I followed her, determined. “From who?”

She threw me a confused look over her shoulder. “From Jay.”

“Jay Thornton?” How did he know Lacey? No, the better question was, why would he refer me in the first place? He didn’t even know I’d been fired.

But I had told Jay. In the gym, the same night he told me he didn’t care about me at all, the night Simon had shown me pictures of my family. But I’d already gotten the job at Maquitte by then.

Lacey was in her small office at the back of the store. I hovered in the doorway. My eyes went to some framed photos on her desk. She saw me looking, picked one up and handed it to me.

“My wedding day.”

Lacey was radiant in a simple lace gown and long veil, the smile on her face one of pure joy. The man beside her was gazing at her, his eyes a little wide as if he was surprised she was there next to him.

“That’s my Sam,” she said.

“You both look beautiful.”

“Here’s another.” She handed me a longer photo, this one of her and Sam with their wedding party. One of the men looked familiar and I brought the picture closer to my face. I’d seen that face on TV before. A singer.

“Wait, is that—?”

“Eric Wentworth? Yeah.”

“You know him?” My mom had been the one to introduce me to The Eric Wentworth Band a few years ago, and I’d been a fan ever since.

“Sam was in his band for a while.”

“No way!”

“Not anymore. The last tour was rough on both of us, so we decided to settle. Sam’s a high school band instructor now.”

“Wow.” It was weird, seeing this other side to Lacey. It made her more real to me, or maybe a little less real.

She replaced the photo on her desk. “Did you need something?”

“No, sorry.” I started to walk away, then turned back. “Yes. Jay. He…” I didn’t know what I was asking. All the talk of Eric Wentworth had made me forget. “What did he say?”

“Jay told me you were great with people, and a hard worker. Besides, Sam owed him a favor, and I trust his judgment. Jay was a good friend to Sam when he was in a tough spot.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Jay had gotten me this job. Jay.

“Maggie?” She was grinning. “I know that look.”

My face heated. “What look?”

“Trust me,” Lacey said, “you’re not the first girl to fall for Jay. Have you seen his abs?”

“Oh my gosh.” I had not fallen for Jay. There was no way. “I don’t like Jay.” He was not a nice guy. He worked for a loan shark. He’d beaten up Nico, and who knows how many others. And did the guy ever smile? There was nothing to like about him.

Except…he was lying for me, covering for me, he’d never once hurt me, had helped get me this job and never said a word about it…

I squared my shoulders. “Trust me, I haven’t fallen for Jay Thornton.” It would never happen.

“You keep telling yourself that,” she said.