I shrug. “Everything is.”
She leans back, turns something over in her mind. “You know I broke up with him, right?”
I didn’t know that, but I nod because I’m too proud to admit it. “But I don’t know why.” I need to know why.
She arranges the artful folds of her dress, and when she looks up, her eyes bore into mine. “Because he’s a bad person. I think he’s attractive. I think he’s rich. But he’s a bad person, you know?”
I do know. And I never thought that could mean more than his most stellar attributes. He is beautiful. He is rich. What else is there? And then I see Elvira’s smile and I think, There is one good thing. One genuine thing.
I never believed there was such a thing as a good rich person. It seemed like a contradiction in terms, a conflict of interest. But this morning, I wrote Astrid a check. I could have fired her. I could have ruined her. I had all the money. I had all the power. And instead, I warned her. Instead, I let her go. Maybe there are good rich people. Maybe I could be one of them.
There’s just one problem. The rich people I know won’t let me go. I was complicit. And all the money in the world isn’t enough to pay for it. “And Graham just let you walk away?” I ask her.
“No.” She lifts her glass. “He found you.”
I hesitate, then reach for mine. My heart skips a beat. My gun is gone. “Where did my gun go?”
“What gun?” one of the men says.
“You don’t need it,” Posey says. “We’re out of the game.”
“It was here on the table. I need it. Who took it?”
“It was probably one of the players or staff or something.”
I stand up. “I need my gun back.” I’ll never find it. I’ll never see who took it. Then I remember my app.
I see Demi’s red light blinking away from me. It was her. She took my gun. She went to the gallery to get more ammo. When she couldn’t find any, she came for my gun. I could leave it, let her shoot someone. That would destroy her life. That would win me the game. It’s actually better than my original plan; there’s less chance of it coming back on me.
It’s perfect. It’s fate. I win.
“Where are you going?” Posey says. My feet are moving. “You can’t go back in the game. That would be cheating.”
“Everyone’s fucking cheating!” And someone might get killed.
DEMI
I go straight from the hotel to Graham’s birthday party, slightly tipsy. I take a car so I don’t have to see too much of the city. I wear sunglasses. I have little glimpses of the places I used to know—the street corners and the underpasses and the swap meets—but they are the ghosts of a dead woman’s life and I’m free. I am free and forgiven.
I have never been to Margo’s house before. I have seen only the glint of the tower from below, the back side of the palace from the gardens. It’s a house that was made to be entered from the front, crammed with glass windows, buffeted with turrets. It spins with the drive. It looks like a lion preparing to pounce, the way all its muscles are tight and coiled as the engine purrs closer.
Lyla greets me on the stairs. “Your outfit’s in the anteroom.” Like I know where that is. Like I know what that is.
Someone hands me a drink. I ask where the anteroom is and they give me directions. I walk down a hall of mirrors, see myself reflected a million times. The faces don’t match. I shiver, stop looking.
I find the anteroom and put on the dress Lyla selected for me. I get this peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. I slept with her husband. Now I’m wearing her dress in their house. But I won’t let it ruin tonight. I’ve never been to a party like this. I’ve never been inside a house like this. Lyla said that wealth is access, and the higher you get, the more you unlock. Somewhere someone is even richer than this, in a bigger house with sharper glass. Why stop here? Why not go all the way to the top?
I might be a little drunk.
I am wandering back to the party when he finds me. He’s in one of his soft midnight blue tailored suits.
“Happy birthday,” I say. He toasts me. “Are you excited for your party?”
His dimples show. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I look around the house, confusing my reflection everywhere for other people, but we are alone. “Did you grow up here?”
He grabs hold of me suddenly, puts his hand around the back of my neck, pulls me against him and kisses me. It’s like kisses used to be, sparkling and surprising.
When he pulls away, I wobble uncertainly. Off-balance. “Thank you for not saying anything.”
He squeezes my hand. “It’s my pleasure.”
* * *
THE DINNER IS obscene. Waiters set fire to our fish and it melts into caviar eggs. They spray pansies so they change color. Pour jus over sprouts and turn them bloodred. Every dish is dressed like something else. I guess I fit the theme.
Graham sits next to me, whispers in my ear rude comments about the most expensive food I’ve ever seen: “Looks like something you’d find at the bottom of a lake” and “Smells like cat litter.”
After dinner, we all follow the staff into the entryway, where there is a long table beneath a velvet cloth. Lyla explains the rules of the game. I heard about it at the drinks with the girls, but Graham is hearing about it for the first time.
He grins from ear to ear, then leans over my shoulder. “Do you think you can win?”
“I know I can,” I tease playfully.
He leans closer. His voice drops to a growl. “Let’s make it more interesting. If you win, I’ll give you anything you want. If not, I hand over that bag of yours to the police.”
My throat starts to close. He’s joking, isn’t he? Who would say something like that? Who would do something like that? Put my life on the line for a game.
“I—,” I start, but it’s too late. He moves easily away from me, crosses to Lyla, throws his arm around her. “This is a brilliant idea, darling!”
His dimples are like burns in the side of his face. His teeth glint. He’s joking. He has to be. No one could be that cruel. He doesn’t even catch my eyes again.
It’s like I’m nothing but a game to him.
DEMI
I race to the garden as soon as the game starts. It’s darker there but I figure it’s the most secure. There are uneven stairs, trees and brush for cover. Natural obstacles like walls and moats and gazebos.
I sight my first kill, one of Graham’s friends creeping down the stairs.
Bang!
“No fair!” he barks, dusting the gold from his belly. “The game hasn’t even started.”
Bang! Off in the distance.
“Well, fuck it!” He toddles back up the steps. This is going to be easier than I thought. These men are weak. Their instincts are shot. They have never had to fight for anything. I was made for this.
I go to the gazebo, because it’s higher up but enclosed. I am tempted to run into the house and take them all out one by one, but my instincts know this is the better way: to wait it out, let them kill one another first. Then I will go in. Graham is the only one I’m not sure about, the only one with teeth. I don’t know if he was joking. As long as I win, I’ll never have to find out.
I am standing at the ready when I see a tall head towering above the flowers. I aim my gun. He puts up his hands. They’re filthy.
“Michael!” I lower the weapon.
“You trying to shoot me?”
Bang!
He jumps down, covers his head.
“It’s just a game. We’re playing a game.”
He rises carefully, rubbing his head. “Funny game.”
Bang!
He flinches but stays standing. “I heard the noise. Thought they were all killing one another.”
I explain the Simunition to him. “You should leave. They’ve all gone crazy.”
“Are you kidding? This is the perfect time to go up to the house. See what’s not nailed down.”
I am about to tell him he can’t, like I always do, but this time I stop myself. I step aside. “Knock yourself out.”