She glanced at the girl. She was dripping wet, her cheeks were red, and yet, she refused to slow down. It was like she was punishing herself. Paying some kind of penance. But for what?
“The other thing the LAPD doesn’t know is that when Madison left the Vesper, she went to Night for Night.”
“Night for Night was closed for the night.” Trena remained unimpressed.
“Madison knew the code. Seems like something you might want to look into, no?”
Yes—most decidedly yes. Just as soon as I get my five miles in.
But what she said was, “Is that it?”
Layla nodded, completely out of breath, her expression one of absolute agony. “And this is where I leave you.” She spun on her heels and bolted the opposite way before Trena could thank her.
FIFTY-FIVE
PICTURES OF YOU
For the entire drive from Hollywood Forever Cemetery to the W hotel (which took far longer than it should have, thanks to the notorious LA traffic), Aster chided herself for confiding in Layla and Tommy when they’d given her absolutely no reason to do so. The stuff they’d confessed was nothing compared to the total humiliation of a sex tape.
She turned left against the red (again, thanks to LA traffic, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d turned left on a green) and inched toward the hotel. Wanting more than anything to get up to her room and open her safe, if only to prove Layla wrong.
The tape was safe. No one would go through her belongings. She had nothing to fear.
But no matter how many times she repeated the mantra, her stomach continued to churn.
She pulled into the entrance at the same time her phone chimed with an incoming call. She glanced at the screen, half expecting it to be Layla, only to see it was Ira. Without even thinking, she pressed Decline.
He’d been good to her. Because of him she had much to be thankful for. But at the moment, she was too flustered to speak to anybody, much less Ira Redman.
Leaving her car with the valet, she raced for the elevator and repeatedly punched the Up button, until a voice behind her said, “Tell me, does that ever work?”
Ira.
Aster turned. Tried to look happy to see him, but the smile she’d forced to her lips faded when she saw Javen standing beside him.
“What happened?” She glanced between them, unable to think of a single valid reason for Javen to be hanging out with Ira Redman. Unless something had happened to her parents . . .
Ira nodded toward Javen, as her brother looked at her and said, “I want to move in with you.”
The elevator rang. The doors slid open.
“I’ll leave you to sort out the details.” Ira started to turn. “Oh, and, Aster—”
She stepped inside the elevator, held the door with her hand.
“The next time I call you, don’t hit Decline.”
She blinked, released her grip on the door, and counted the seconds until it closed between them.
“Aster—” Javen started, but Aster lifted a hand and shook her head.
“Not here,” she whispered, realizing just how paranoid she probably sounded, but it wasn’t entirely unwarranted. “Whatever it is, it can wait until we get inside.” She willed the elevator to climb faster—why was it moving so slowly? Now more than ever she needed to get inside her apartment. She wouldn’t be able to relax and focus on her brother until she’d made sure the DVD was right where she’d left it.
Once inside, Javen raced for the floor-to-ceiling windows and took in the one-eighty view of the city as Aster made for the safe tucked away in the closet. Holding her breath, she punched in the code and swung the door open, only to exhale in relief to find that her jewelry, her MacBook Air, some cash Ira had given her, and the DVD were all there.
She sank to her knees. Dropped her head in her hands.
She wasn’t crazy.