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.