I THOUGHT SHELBY would never leave her house. I’d been parked across the street for what seemed like forever, waiting. A quick check of the clock told me it had only been about two hours, but being alone made it feel much longer. I tried not to think about Chris while I was waiting, and twice had to force myself to put down the phone while on the verge of texting him.
He didn’t want to hear from me.
I felt a little guilty for the way things had gone down between us. Which was exactly why things needed to go down that way between us. Guilt was just another reason why I thought relationships were bullshit. I had nothing to feel guilty about. I didn’t owe him a damn thing.
Did I?
I probably did. Which told me I’d gotten way too close to him. I knew I had—sitting by his bedside after the accident. Confiding in him. Kissing him. Pressing up against him at igNight. It felt good. Comfortable. I’d ignored and pushed away and beaten back the magenta that tried to fill the room whenever I was with him, but I knew it was there. It was always there, the same as it was when Jones came around me. How did I let things get to that point?
I couldn’t tell if he was the one who’d changed or if I was. Was he right? Had I started relying on him to do everything for me? It was impossible to tell.
And I hated that I was having to think about it in the first place.
It was so much easier to think about Shelby and how she could lead me to Luna. Which was saying something.
Shelby finally emerged, shoving through her front door with her hip, a cell phone to her ear. She was talking animatedly to whoever was on the other end—Luna, maybe?—and was wearing a nearly nonexistent black swimsuit covered with silver studs. The bottom half disappeared into a pair of white jeans, artfully ripped along the thighs and rolled up at the bottoms. She stumbled along in strappy crystal-embellished heels that winked in the streetlamps. Even her eyebrows twinkled in the lamplight. Clearly Shelby had shed her punk look for the wealthy glam baby that she was born to be. I curled my hands around the steering wheel. There was something about just looking at her that made me fill with murk. I could have hopped out of my car and plowed her face into the street.
Instead, I sank down in my seat, even though I was pretty sure Shelby Gray was way too into herself to notice someone watching her, and waited as she got into her car, pulled out, and left. I let her turn the corner before I followed.
Shelby drove the same way she did everything in life: like she was entitled to the road and everyone else needed to get out of her way. I could see her silhouette holding up her phone several times, as if she was texting. Or taking selfies. Knowing Shelby, she was doing both—texting selfies. She wove in and out of traffic carelessly, cutting off drivers and forcing them to swerve into other lanes and off the road. I hung back several car lengths—not because I was worried about her seeing me, but because I was worried she would kill me if I got too close.
We drove into the city, Shelby’s driving improving zero percent along the way, and when we pulled onto Sunset, I knew immediately where she was headed.
Blue Yonder. Where the fab went to party when they wanted to show off barely there, studded swimsuits and rhinestoned makeup.
She pulled into the parking lot and I slowed, trying to decide whether I would wait for her to come back out, or just go home. A car honked at me to keep moving, so I followed her, cursing out the jackass whose balls were on fire so bad that he couldn’t slow down for ten seconds.
Shelby whipped into a parking spot and took a solid minute to mess with her hair in the rearview mirror. She slathered lipstick on her mouth and finally got out. I decided I would wait for her to walk by, and then would leave. I had no interest in watching Shelby Gray be the center of fabulous for a whole night.
She went straight to the giant wooden doors, clicking along on her ridiculous heels, and I was just about to pull out when I saw someone join her. From my position, all I could see was the back of a small, frail-looking girl. Circle skirt and bikini top. Strappy heels just as ridiculous as Shelby’s. And long hair.
Long, blond, celebrity-luxurious hair.
I froze, my hands rooted in place on the steering wheel. My fingers had gone cold and tingly. The interior of my car lit up in gold fireworks. I slammed my car into park and picked up my phone. My thumb was poised over the keyboard, ready to text Chris, when I remembered that he didn’t want to be in my drama anymore. He wasn’t interested in whether or not I’d found Luna.
Even if I finally had.
AFTER SOME INTERNAL debating, I decided to go home before following Shelby up to the rooftop of the hotel that claimed Blue Yonder as one of its amenities. I definitely wasn’t going to blend in wearing the jeans and tee that I was wearing. But going home to change was going to cost me about an hour. I was counting on Shelby and Luna needing to be seen for at least longer than that.
I was pretty sure I could count on it.
I went home and raced up to my room. Dad called after me from his office, but I yelled back that I was only stopping in and would be home later. He said something in return, but I shut my door. I didn’t have time yet to deal with him. I may have been convinced that the Hollises were behind my mom’s murder, but that didn’t mean I was 100 percent convinced that he wasn’t also behind it. It seemed unlikely, given that Hollis obviously hated him. But maybe he was willing to do it to get back in Hollis’s good graces. Or to protect himself from the man who’d vowed revenge on him.
Regardless, he’d had so many chances to own up to his relationship with them—I’d questioned him directly, more than once. The fact that he was still hiding it gave me an inky feeling in my gut. Even if I could prove that Bill Hollis killed Mom and acted alone while doing so, would that erase the feeling of betrayal I had every time I thought of my dad now? Would it reverse my lack of trust in him?
I honestly didn’t know.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it now, anyway. Shelby and Luna were partying and the clock was ticking.
I didn’t exactly have a ritzy wardrobe to choose from, but I did have some things that would do. I crammed myself back into that awful pink bikini and covered up with a wrap that my grandparents had brought me back from their trip to Bali a few years ago. It was yellow and black and scarf-like, covered with giant orange and purple and red butterflies. It was silky and beautiful and in no way had I ever planned to wear it. I’d shoved it in the back of my closet and forgotten about it.
But now, it was just what I needed. It took me a few minutes—and an online video—to figure out how to tie it, but by the time I was done draping and twisting and knotting, it actually looked a little elegant. It was sheer and light, and it definitely clung to my form, and you could see the ghost of a bikini beneath. I scraped through my jewelry drawer until I found some gaudy shit I’d collected over the years as Christmas gifts, and draped it over myself. I didn’t have any rhinestones or glinty, strappy shoes, so I settled for a pair of leather flip-flops and rushed to the bathroom, where I wound and sprayed finger waves into my hair and painted bright red lips on myself—a leftover from my surveillance trip inside a recording studio a while back. I doubled down on mascara and blush and spritzed a cloud of coconut-scented body spray onto myself.
When I stepped back to study the mirror, I barely recognized the girl in my reflection. I looked . . . like everyone else. It was disgusting.
And also perfect.
TRAFFIC HAD LIGHTENED up as evening drew down, and I got back to the hotel in record time. There were a lot more cars in the parking lot, and I had to drive around a while before I found a spot.
I wished I’d seen which car the blonde had gotten out of, but I’d been too busy watching Shelby and getting impatient. That was the price I paid for not paying attention. Eye on the prize, Nikki. And Shelby was only one prize. The small prize. She was the goldfish in a plastic bag when there was a giant teddy bear to be won.
The rooftop was even swankier than I’d imagined. Sofas and cushions and candles everywhere. Music, the clink of glasses hitting glasses, and laughter—fake, forced, kind-of-bored laughter—a cloud hovering above all of us. The entrance was manned by a distractible guy whose eyes were the glossy bloodshot of someone completely high. I craned my neck, pretending to look over his shoulder, an aggravated expression on my face.
“You need something?” he asked.
“My friend is carrying my ID,” I said. I ran my hands down my hips. “No pockets. I was parking and she was supposed to wait for me. She must have forgot.”
He scanned the room. “Who’s your friend?”
I let my shoulders slump. “I think I saw her go into the bathroom.” I made a frustrated noise. “I don’t even have my phone. You mind if I go find her?”
“Not supposed to let you in without an ID,” he said, but already I could tell his attention was waning as a line formed behind me.
“I’ll come right back as soon as I have it,” I said, knowing I could get lost in the crowd and he would totally forget about me two minutes after I walked away.
He looked skeptical but nodded anyway. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Sometimes it was just too easy.
I lingered along the edge of the room, pausing to gaze out the windows at the breathtaking view of Los Angeles. I felt like I could see forever.
“Gorgeous, huh?” I heard, startlingly close to me. I jumped, turned. A man who looked old enough to be my dad stood there, grinning at me over a glass of wine. He held a second glass toward me. “Pinot noir?”
I wanted nothing to do with this toad, but I needed to assimilate into the crowd. I needed to fit in. I took the glass, smiled, and clinked it against his lightly. The liquid turned yellowy brown, but I ignored it. I took too big of a sip. He watched me over the top of his glass as he drank, too.
He wasn’t the worst-looking guy in the world.
“That’s a beautiful dress,” he said. He reached out and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. My elbow pulled back slightly, ready to jack him in the throat if he even considered touching me further than that. “Almost looks like a scarf.”
“It kind of is,” I said. I took another sip. “It’s from Bali.”
His eyes lit up and he dropped the fabric. “Oh! You’ve been! I hope you had time to visit Karangasem and Besakih Temple. I would venture to say the most sublime spot on the face of the earth. Agree?”
I let out a self-conscious chuckle. “I haven’t actually been,” I said. “Someone brought me this as a souvenir.”
“You should go,” he said, his eyes never leaving me as he took a drink.
No, you should go, I thought. Go away.
“It’s a nice look regardless,” he said, gesturing the length of my body with his glass. “A lot simpler than most of the girls here. They try too hard. And you have the curves for it.” Fortunately, we both turned to survey the rooftop, taking some of the attention off me, and allowing me to look for Shelby and Luna. They appeared to be stretched out on a couple of lounges, their backs to us. “You going to swim?” the man asked.
“Hmm?” I’d been watching them so intently, I’d pretty much forgotten I was standing with him. Maybe it was purposeful forgetting.
He pushed aside the edge of my wrap, exposing bare flesh and the top of my bikini bottom. “Looks like you’re planning to swim.” He arched his eyebrows and tilted his head approvingly as he stared. Puffs of ruby, lime sherbet, rust. Pop, pop, pop. A July Fourth finale in my mind. I hated being touched without permission.
Lightning quick, I reached down and grabbed his hand, squeezing and grinding his knuckles together, and twisting his wrist so his thumb was pointing downward. He let out a gasp; wine splashed over the rim of his glass, landing on his shoe.
“Touch me again and you’re going to need someone else to hold your wineglass for you.”
He tugged against my grip, and I held tight for just a second longer, then let go. I smiled, drained my wine, and handed my glass to him, pressing it against his stomach until he took it. “Nice meeting you,” I said, and sauntered away, my entire body vibrating with anger.
He murmured; I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but I was guessing it wasn’t too nice. I felt good about that. Chris would have loved . . . right. Never mind what Chris would have loved.
I wandered through the crowd, trying to look like I had a purpose so the leches would leave me alone, but also trying to blend in so Shelby and Luna wouldn’t notice me. Two guys had joined them, and they were all draped over the lounges together, drinks sweating on the ground at their feet. Shelby kept laughing, throwing her head back, and I clenched my jaw. I hated seeing her having a great time as if everything were normal and the girl sitting right next to her hadn’t tried to kill me twice. I was overtaken with a wave of dread, realizing that even if I somehow managed to get rid of Luna once and for all, Shelby would still exist. What kind of person hung out with a sociopath like Luna as if doing so was totally okay? Another sociopath. Just what the world needed. Just what my life needed. With Luna gone, would Shelby simply step up and take her place?
“You need something?” A waitress had appeared next to me, holding an empty tray down by her side. She was looking at me skeptically.
“Um . . . just the restroom,” I said.
She pointed in the direction I’d come from. “That way.”
I glanced but tried not to let my gaze linger, since the guy whose fingers I’d mashed was still over there. “Thanks.”
She started to move on, then stopped again. “You sure you don’t need anything? You seem, like, nervous or something. Someone giving you trouble? We don’t tolerate that here.”
Shit. I chuckled and willed myself to press my nerves down. “No, I’m just . . . the guy I’m into is here and I’m totally geeking out about it. I’m such a dork.”
I had inadvertently nodded my head toward the guys who were messing with Shelby and Luna, and the waitress followed the gesture. “Those guys?” She leaned in, touched my arm. “Trust me, sweetie. You don’t want them. They’re here all the time. Different night, different girl. They aren’t exactly what you would call marriage material, if you know what I mean.”
I grinned. “Neither am I.” Truth.
She shrugged. “Well, have at it, then. Maybe those two girls won’t put out, and you’ll have the road paved for you.”
She moved on, stopping to pick up empty glasses and bottles along the way. I drifted away, pausing in as many unobtrusive places as I could find. I could feel eyes on me. I hated being in crowds for this very reason. The constant assessing, the feeling of being on show. The pool rippled green and bumpy, what I thought of as “pickle green”—the color I saw when I felt self-conscious.
Finally, the guys got up and pulled off their shirts, wandered over to the pool, and jumped in. The girls egged them on while holding up their drinks, toast-style.
If there was a time, it was now.
I briskly headed toward them.
“Does your parole officer know you’re partying?” I asked, coming around the corner, fast, at Luna. I whipped out my phone, ready to dial the police; I wanted Luna to see me doing it.
She jumped. “What the hell?”
Only it wasn’t Luna sitting next to Shelby Gray. It was a different blond girl. The third in Luna’s trio: Eve Keller.
Shelby flopped back against the lounge and rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Nikki Kill. For the Will Never Go Away files.”
I realized I hadn’t moved. I was still holding up my phone threateningly. My shoulders sagged. “Are you serious? Eve.”
“What the hell?” Eve repeated, this time looking over at Shelby helplessly.
“I told you about her,” Shelby said, resigned. “She is obsessed with me for some reason. Won’t leave me alone. I heard you were stalking VF at the café the other day, Nikki. Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”
“I wasn’t stalking,” I said. “I was on a shoot with my dad and when I saw Vee, I went over to say hi and ask a couple questions. I’m trying to—”
“Let me guess,” she said, interrupting me. “Find Luna. You’re trying to find Luna.” She turned to Eve again. “She’s like a broken record about it. Completely obsessed. It’s totally unhealthy. I’ve told you before, Nikki, and you seem to be too dense to get it. So I’ll say it slowly. I . . . don’t . . . know . . . where . . . Luna . . . is.”
“You thought I was Luna?” Eve asked, and I could tell by the look on her face that she was secretly thrilled about the mistake. She touched her hair lightly.
“Do you know where Luna is, Eve?” Shelby asked. Eve shook her head. “No. So you can move on now. Luna is not here, and we don’t know where she is.”
“Has she contacted you at all?” I asked, finally getting my bearings. “I mean, since taking off?”
“If you took off,” Shelby said, “would you go calling people to see if they noticed? No. You would hide. I’m guessing that’s what Luna’s doing. Hiding. Far, far away from here.”
“No doubt,” Eve said. “Luna’s not dumb.”
Unlike you two, I wanted to snap, but held myself back. You never knew when you might need someone’s cooperation in the future, and Eve seemed to be the one semi-not-horrible friend in the trio. And insulting Shelby just didn’t really seem worth my time.
The two boys had gotten out of the pool and were loping toward us, their feet making wet smacks against the concrete, their chests and bellies streaked with mini chlorinated rivers.
“Would you please go now?” Shelby asked, waving me off. “We’re sort of in the middle of something, and you’re in the way.”
“Fine,” I said. “But if you hear from her—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you. I know the drill by now. But I can assure you I’m not going to hear from her. Can we both move on now? And by move on, I mean literally.” She waved me off again, a little grander this time.
“Whatever,” I mumbled, turning away.
“Have you tried her dad’s house?” Eve asked, before I could get out of her sight.
“No.”
“You should try there. Last I talked to Luna, she was living with him. I mean, if she’s missing, how come there’s not some big, like, police search or Amber Alert or something going on? Someone must know where she is.”
She had a point. One I hadn’t thought of before.
Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
“Would you please go now?” Shelby asked impatiently.
The guys had arrived and were busy scrubbing their hair with towels. I could feel their eyes on my dress, could almost feel their eyes under my dress. The waitress had been so right about them.
“God, go already. I swear you are like a fly. Annoying, and impossible to get rid of. I don’t like you, Nikki Kill. I don’t want you around. Don’t make me swat you.” She and Eve shared a chuckle as the two guys went daaaamn in the background.
“Always good to see you, Shelby,” I said in a droll voice.
“I wish I could say the same,” she said. And then to my back, “Oh, wait. No I don’t. It’s always good to see you leaving.” She giggled loudly.
Past Nikki wanted to rush her, put her in a headlock, make her cry. But Current Nikki didn’t have time for that. Current Nikki had an errand to plan.
Eve was right: it was time to pay Peter Fairchild a visit.