CHAPTER 15
Liam had selected a place on Melrose Avenue, a well-established restaurant for L.A.’s well-heeled. The atmosphere was subdued, quiet conversations broken only by the clink of heavy silver flatware, crystal, and bone china. Dark wood and snowy white linens were set aglow by candlelight.
The chef’s menu with a wine pairing ran about three hundred bucks a person. I was totally up for the fabulous meal—my idea of cooking was making a sandwich and toasting the bread.
Liam looked especially handsome tonight in a navy-blue Canali suit that perfectly complemented my black-sleeveless-plunging-short dress. Only the Mystique could have made the look better, but I was really okay with the Kate Spade envelope clutch I’d selected.
“Let’s have a drink before dinner,” Liam said after the maître d’ assured us our table would be ready shortly.
“I’ll join you in a minute,” I said.
I slipped down the darkened hallway toward the ladies’ room. Liam had gone all-out for the evening, so no way did I want to sit across the table from him through the entire meal only to later excuse myself to the restroom and realize I’d looked like a complete idiot the whole time with lipstick on my teeth or a tendril of hair sticking straight up.
Just as I reached the door to the ladies’ room, the men’s room door opened. Jack Bishop walked out.
We both froze.
I hadn’t seen him since that night. He hadn’t called, texted, or emailed me. He hadn’t come by my apartment or either of the two places I worked. He’d made no attempt to contact me at all.
Now we were standing face-to-face. What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to act?
Jack’s gaze took a long, slow dip from my head to my feet, and up again.
He was thinking about that night—I knew he was. Why wouldn’t he? Obviously, unlike me, he actually remembered what had happened.
“No Mystique?” he asked.
I’d told him about the clutch I wanted? Yeah, okay, that seemed kind of familiar.
“Nuovo’s shipment was lost,” I said.
Jack grinned. “It wouldn’t have mattered. You look great tonight.”
And I hadn’t looked great that night?
Had I fallen asleep with my mouth gaping open? Had I snorted in my sleep—or worse?
Jack edged closer. He had on a charcoal-gray Tom Ford suit that looked fantastic on him, and wow, he smelled great. The crazy heat that always rolled off of him seemed hotter tonight.
“Are you and Marcie out again?” he asked.
Okay, this was kind of awkward.
“No . . . no, I’m with. . . .” I glanced back down the hallway and gestured lamely at Liam in the bar.
When I turned to Jack again, his expression hardened into something between anger and hurt.
“You’re with Liam Douglas?” he asked.
I wasn’t surprised Jack recognized Liam. Jack consulted for a number of businesses in Los Angeles, and many of them were law firms.
“Are you?” Jack asked again, and sounded none too happy.
I’m a real stickler about being involved with only one guy at a time. This wasn’t a great moment for me.
“I know how this looks,” I said, “me being out with Liam after what happened the other night.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “After what happened?”
“You know, between us,” I said.
Jack just looked at me.
“At your place,” I said.
He seemed to lapse into deep thought, glanced away, then looked at me again.
Oh my God, he was remembering everything we’d done—whatever it was. I wanted him to say something, give me some hint of what had gone on, but he didn’t.
Crap.
“I hope you know I’m not like that,” I said. “I had too much wine and, well, things just . . . they got out of control.”
“You know, I usually get a thank-you,” Jack told me.
A thank-you? Women usually thanked him after spending the night at his place?
I knew it. Jack was so hot he didn’t just scream his own name—he probably spelled it out.
I couldn’t take any more of this conversation.
“Look,” I said. “The whole evening just got crazy, or something, I guess.”
Jack frowned. “You don’t remember?”
How insulting to tell him I didn’t remember—and it didn’t make me look so hot either. So what could I do but lie?
“Of course, I remember,” I said.
Jack eased closer, and a grin pulled at his lips. “So you remember us having . . . ?”
Jeez, why did he put me on the spot like this?
“Hot, sweaty jungle sex,” I told him.
A huge, knowing smile bloomed on his face.
Oh my God, I’d had hot, sweaty jungle sex with Jack and I couldn’t remember it?
Nooooo . . .
A hand touched my back and Liam appeared next to me. I was so rattled, I couldn’t say anything—I couldn’t even think.
Luckily, I didn’t have to do either. Jack and Liam did the whose-is-firmer handshake, and were in the middle of some age-old male posturing when the maître d’ showed up and escorted us to our table.
The evening had just begun and I was exhausted.
Fortunately, Liam didn’t ask anything about Jack. Since he was a lawyer, he was a good talker. He always had something to discuss, a witty or clever story to share. Tonight I was having a little trouble staying focused, so I was shaken a bit when, just before dessert was served, Liam reached across the table and took my hand.
“Would you consider going away with me for the weekend?” he asked.
We’d been going out for a while now, taking it slow—really slow—so I’d known this situation would eventually present itself. I’d already thought about it. I liked Liam, really liked him, so the idea of going away with him for the weekend didn’t come out of the blue, yet on the heels of that conversation with Jack, it didn’t seem right.
A night with Jack, then a few days later, the weekend with Liam? I knew it sounded old-fashioned, but I’m not that kind of girl.
But Jack hadn’t asked me to go away for the weekend. He hadn’t invited me anywhere. I’d apparently had hot, sweaty jungle sex with him, but he hadn’t bothered to call me afterwards.
“I’d love to go,” I said.
* * *
“What do you think?” Sandy asked, holding up her cell phone for Bella and me to see.
We were in the Holt’s breakroom snacking on vending-machine fare, all of us fiddling with our cell phones while we talked. Around us, other employees were microwaving their lunches, shoving in empty calories and sugary drinks, everybody grinding through our morning shift until we could clock out and get on with our actual lives.
Bella and I studied the selfie Sandy had taken in a dressing room where she’d tried on a pink maxi-dress.
“Is it big-birthday-dinner worthy?” she asked. “I’m not sure.”
“That boyfriend of yours is really taking you out?” Bella asked. “For reals? No b.s.? He’s really doing it?”
“He promised,” Sandy said and smiled her he’s-so-adorable smile. “He can be really sweet like that.”
Bella and I exchanged a he’d-better-do-this glance.
“Sometimes he doesn’t always come through,” I pointed out, as gently as I could—well, gently for me.
“He’s busy,” Sandy said insisted. “His work is important. He’s always in demand.”
“He does tattoos,” I said.
“It’s art, Haley,” Sandy said.
Jeez, how many times had we had this conversation?
“The dress looks great on you,” I said.
Sandy took another look at the selfie on her phone and said, “Yeah, I’ll wear it. He’ll like it.”
“You want me to do your hair for your date?” Bella asked.
Her geometric-shapes phase continued. Today she’d fashioned her hair atop her head into a giant rectangle that looked a bit like a waffle iron.
Sandy thought for a few seconds, then said, “I think I’ll wear it down. He likes it when I wear it down.”
“Do you know where he’s taking you for dinner?” I asked.
“He won’t tell me,” Sandy said. “He says he wants to surprise me. He sounds very mysterious about it.”
It sounded to me like he hadn’t made a plan yet, but I let it go and took a quick glance at my cell phone.
I’d accessed my Visa account on the GSB&T site and was relieved to see that there were still no unauthorized charges on my card. It had been days since I’d realized it was missing which, hopefully, meant that, despite the careful search I’d already done, it was somewhere in my car or apartment, or something, and not stolen, so I could still find it. I didn’t want the hassle of requesting a replacement since GSB&T processing on everything could be timed with a sundial.
“You remember that guy I told you about, the one I started dating a couple of weeks ago?” Bella asked.
Sensing major gossip, I set my phone aside. Sandy did, too.
“The IT guy at the insurance company?” I asked.
“How’s it going with him?” Sandy asked.
“He’s hinting around about having a sleepover at my place,” Bella said. She shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s nice, but he’s not all that great looking. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s your lighting situation?” I asked.
“Bright.”
“Is he worth investing in low-wattage bulbs?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’ll just break up with him.”
“You should give him a chance,” Sandy said.
“I haven’t got time for that kind of b.s.,” Bella grumbled.
A blinding wall of red, orange, and yellow flashed in the breakroom doorway. Just as I was about to duck and cover, I realized it was Jeanette walking past.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, jumping up from my chair.
Bella looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I couldn’t blame her—I was only twenty-two minutes into my fifteen-minute break.
“Later,” I whispered, and gave her a something’s-going-down eyebrow bob. Bella got it immediately and bobbed back.
I dumped my trash, pocketed my cell phone, and left the breakroom.
The door to Jeanette’s office was open so I headed that way. She didn’t usually work on Sunday so I knew something major had to be happening.
I stopped in the doorway and grabbed the door frame to steady myself. Jeanette stood behind her desk wearing a dress with neon red and orange flames streaking upward on a yellow background. It had a round collar and capped sleeves, and I was pretty sure it was made of velour.
It looked like it was old enough to vote.
“Yes, Haley, what is it?” she asked.
It took everything I had, but I managed not to shield my eyes as I walked up to her desk.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked, and actually sounded concerned, not just nosy. “You’ve looked kind of stressed lately.”
Jeanette sighed and sank into her desk chair. She hadn’t invited me to join her, but I sat down anyway. I mean, really, you have to push a little if you want to hear the good stuff.
“All the owners of the adjoining shops came to see me,” Jeanette said. “They’re very unhappy about our latest situation.”
I was sure “situation” was code for “murder.”
“Sales are down. Business is off. Customers are staying away in droves,” she went on.
“Even here?” I asked.
“We’re definitely feeling the effects,” Jeanette admitted.
I couldn’t help but think the effect she was most concerned about was the impact on her quarterly bonus.
“Things are much worse for the smaller businesses,” Jeanette said. “Most of them are barely getting by.”
“So why did the owners come to you?”
“They think I’m to blame for their problems because the body was discovered here.”
Jeanette cut her gaze to me and I got a definite this-is-really- your-fault vibe.
I decided it was better not to say anything.
“The police haven’t made any headway in finding Asha’s murderer. Those investigative journalists are coming,” Jeanette went on. “If this thing isn’t cleared up soon, giving the reporters something positive to say, the whole shopping center could go down.”
The content of a television broadcast and the police finding a killer quickly were both highly unreliable things on which to pin the future of the entire shopping center.
“There must be something else that can be done,” I said.
“The other business owners expect Holt’s to make things right,” Jeanette said.
“How?”
“Corporate is working on some ideas.”
I didn’t feel encouraged.
And I was definitely going to have to step up my efforts to find Asha’s killer.