Page 81 of For Your Eyes Only
“Is it classified information?” Blake is watching me with those intense, gray-blue eyes.
“I have a few investments in West Palm.” I’m not interested in Blake knowing my business, so I quickly turn the questions around. “Are you still modeling?”
“Of course not.” She slides her smooth dark hair behind her shoulder. “I only did that to cover the bills until I turned twenty-one.”
Twenty-one would be when her trust fund matured. I lift my chin in understanding.
Blake and I have a tenuous relationship. She doesn’t trust me, and I’ve never given her a reason to. We could be friends. She made certain choices to remain independent, and now I’m making my own. She’s smart, but I don’t need a fucking guilt trip.
Her eyes drift down to her buzzing phone, and when she picks it up, her brow furrows as if she’s confused by what she’s seeing. Then her thumb begins tapping on the screen.
“Not bad news, I hope?” I’ve grown up with these girls, so I know everyone they know.
She doesn’t answer, and I see from the light flickering, her phone screen is loading a video site. I take another drink of vodka as her lips tighten. She swipes her finger up the phone face then slams it down on her clutch on the table, eyes searching the room.
“Where did Hana go?” she snaps.
I don’t care for her tone, but I let it pass. “I sent her to the jukebox. House music is better if it’s mixed with other genres.”
“We need to leave. Now.” She stands, and I lower my foot to the floor. “I’m calling the car. You can stay if you want.”
I stand beside her, chuckling as I polish off my drink. “Are you kidding? I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
Hana bounces up looking a little glassy-eyed. “Are we dancing?” Her voice is high, artificially happy.
Hana will break your heart if you let her.
“We’re going home.” Blake’s voice is stern, and her sister’s smile turns upside down.
“No!” she cries. “I just played a bunch of fun songs. We have to wait for them.”
“We can listen to them in the car.” Blake picks up Hana’s wrap and drapes it around her shoulders. “I’ve got a migraine.”
Hana looks to me with her pleading face, and I shrug. “Can’t argue with a migraine. They're a bitch from what I hear.”
Her shoulders fall with her exhale. “I hate when everybody gets sick the night I want to dance.”
Sliding my arm around her narrow waist, I pull her in for a side hug. “I’ll play your songs in the car. What’s up first?”
“China Girl.” She’s still pouting, but I’m searching for the song on my phone.
We spend the short drive uptown listening to Bowie. It’s a rainy night, and the wet pavement shines black while the streetlamps bathe them in gold. It’s beautiful, but when you step out, it smells like a wet dog.
The limo pulls up to the Andover, and Blake opens the door as we slow to a stop. She’s clearly pissed and ready to get inside, but she freezes in place when she steps out of the car.
“What the hell?” Her voice is soft.
Leaning forward, I see the flashing red and blue lights streaking the sky and the buildings around us. My first thought ispolice raid, but they wouldn’t raid the Andover. One of the older tenants must’ve had a heart attack or someone’s stuck in an elevator.
Hana bolts out of the car without looking and bumps into her sister. “Oops! Sorry, Blake.”
She giggles, clearly buzzed, and I put a hand on her hip, moving her to the side so I can exit the town car. A crowd is forming, which means whatever it is just happened.
Police officers are creating a perimeter, holding up their hands to back people up, and TMZ and the rest of the media are already on the scene, jumping out of vans or racing up on bikes with their cameras ready.
I don’t see any damaged cars, so it’s not a wreck. An officer stretching yellow crime tape draws my attention, and that’s when I see the dark lump lying on the sidewalk in front of our building.
A clump of black-uniformed cops are talking nearby, but the blood drains from my face when I look closer. A thick, strawberry-blonde braid is not completely covered by the black tarp they’ve haphazardly spread over the victim.