The Amateurs

  Halfway down the block, the word Kiko was etched translucently into a front window of a building. Inside was a sparse-looking room; a blob-like sculpture in blond wood sat on a pedestal toward the back. An Asian woman leaned coolly against a front desk.

  ‘How are we going to get past her?’ Aerin said out of the corner of her mouth.

  In their research about Kiko, they’d discovered that the gallery was semiprivate, only open to serious buyers. To pass through the doors, you had to sign a guest book. The hope was that Loren had signed in … and perhaps left an address. The problem was getting access to the guest book. They’d kicked around some ideas last night – they were private investigators; they were Loren’s personal assistants taking care of his tax documents and wanted to know when he had last visited; they were from an art magazine wanting details on who was interested in the gallery’s pieces. Nothing seemed right.

  A garbage truck rumbled noisily down the street. Seneca shifted from foot to foot. Brett stared at the Japanese girl in the gallery window, then nudged Madison. ‘You talk to her.’

  ‘Why me?’ Madison thumbed her chest.

  ‘Don’t Asian chicks stick together? You could say something to her in Chinese, maybe. Do some kung fu. We’d be in for sure.’

  ‘Brett!’ Seneca chided, half teasing, half horrified.

  Madison looked confused. ‘I’m Korean.’

  ‘Oh.’ Brett looked blank. ‘Shit, girl. Sorry.’ Then he snapped his fingers. ‘I’ve got it. I know how we’re going to get in. I’m an investor. And I’m from LA – no, Vegas. I’m ridiculously wealthy and also ridiculously insecure.’

  Aerin cocked her head at him. ‘Where do you come up with this stuff?’

  Maddox rubbed his hands together. ‘And you’re one of those guys who only wants to buy art if it’s trendy and everyone else is buying it, too. So you’re ready to drop some cash, but you want to see the guest book to make sure other power players are interested, too. Because if it’s a bunch of no-names on that list, you’re not biting.’

  Brett held out his hand for Maddox to slap five. ‘Dude, I like the way you think.’

  Aerin started laughing. ‘You guys are crazy.’

  ‘What?’ Brett cocked his head. ‘It’s a perfect plan.’

  ‘How are you two going to make them believe you’re billionaire art collectors?’ Seneca snickered, too. ‘You’re not really dressed the part …’

  ‘We could give you a role, too,’ Maddox offered.

  ‘Yeah!’ Brett brightened. ‘You could be my business partner, Seneca. And Aerin –’ he turned to her – ‘you can be my girlfriend.’

  Aerin pouted. ‘How about I’m your girlfriend and another business partner?’

  ‘Can I be a model-slash-heiress you picked up along the way?’ Madison asked excitedly.

  Seneca rolled back her shoulders and crossed the street. ‘I have another idea.’

  ‘Hey!’ Brett called after her. ‘We’re not ready yet! We haven’t even come up with names!’

  Seneca buzzed to be let in, then pushed open the glass door to the gallery. The room was so air-conditioned that she immediately felt the urge to shiver. The only sounds in the space were the woman’s fingers as they tapped a keyboard and Seneca’s shoes as they clacked on the wood floor. Finally, the woman stopped typing and glared at Seneca. She was younger than Seneca first thought, wearing a complicated-looking black matte top and leather pants over the skinniest legs Seneca had ever seen. There was a copy of Cosmo in her bag. Seneca peeked at the computer screen. She had been looking at OkCupid.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the receptionist asked, her tone snooty.

  ‘Hi.’ Seneca tried to ignore her pounding heart. ‘I’m supposed to meet someone here, and he says he’s a buyer with your gallery. Is there any way to confirm anything about him?’

  The girl’s gaze returned to the keyboard. ‘I’m sorry. Our client records are private.’

  Seneca figured she’d say that. She leaned in confidingly. ‘I met him on this dating site for rich guys, and he bragged that he’s got major cash. Like has-his-own-plane cash. I just want to see if he’s legit before I go through with it.’ She smiled warmly and confidingly. ‘You don’t want me to get catfished, do you?’

  The girl ran her tongue over her teeth. A clock ticked above them. ‘I can’t promise you anything. What’s his name?’

  ‘Loren … something. Spelled L-O-R-E-N. I don’t know his last name yet, so I wasn’t able to google him.’

  The assistant let out a truncated laugh. ‘I can tell you right now we have no clients named Loren, but I know a Loren. Loren Jablonski: he works here – in security.’ She shook her head. ‘He told you all that?’

  Seneca’s mind was doing flips, but she tried her hardest to stay in character. ‘Y-yes,’ she stammered, faking surprise. ‘He’s a security guard? He doesn’t have a private plane?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  Seneca scoffed. ‘Wow. That is just … wow. Thanks for your help.’ She moved to leave, but then swiveled back around. ‘I want to call him out – but I am so not showing up for our date this weekend. Is he in tomorrow?’

  The girl clicked something on the computer. ‘He’s here tomorrow morning.’

  ‘And you won’t tell him I’m going to show up?’

  The girl gave her a pitying look. ‘No way.’

  As Seneca pushed open the door to the street, she gestured at the blob in the middle of the room. ‘What’s that supposed to be, anyway?’

  The girl smiled. ‘It represents the quiet, steely power of the female essence.’

  Seneca grinned. Damn right.

  Everyone was staring at her as she crossed the street. Brett rushed toward her. ‘What did she tell you? Did you say we were investors?’

  ‘Loren’s a security guard, his last name’s Jablonski, he’ll be in tomorrow morning, and he doesn’t know we’re coming,’ Seneca said confidently, sidestepping a rushing taxicab. ‘You’re welcome!’

  Madison let out a low, appreciative whistle. Maddox and Aerin exchanged an impressed look. ‘Like a boss,’ Brett murmured. Boom, Seneca thought triumphantly. Occasionally, it was fun to blow everyone out of the water.

  CHAPTER 20

  Later that evening, Brett sat on an off-white leather chaise in the middle of a giant suite at the Ritz-Carlton on Central Park South. Three girls sat around him, and he was waxing poetic about Vera Grady’s fashion empire. The one closest to him, Sadie, pursed her glossy lips. ‘Did you get to go to her shows in Paris?’

  ‘Yeah, a couple of times,’ Brett answered. ‘It was incredible.’

  ‘Do you know any celebrities?’ the girl on the end asked.

  ‘Matt McConaughey and I hung out once at an after-party,’ Brett said. ‘And I had lunch with that guy from Guardians of the Galaxy.’

  The girls swooned. When Brett looked up, Aerin appeared through the crowd like a sunbeam breaking through a thundercloud. Brett found an appropriate moment to say goodbye to the girls and pushed through the throng, weaving around land mines of broken glass and a break-dancing competition. Grabbing a newly opened bottle of champagne from the sideboard, he rushed to Aerin’s side.

  ‘Drink?’ he said, waving the bottle hypnotically under her nose.

  Aerin wobbled from foot to foot. Her eyes were shiny, and her cheeks were flushed; Brett wondered how many drinks she’d already had. ‘Or maybe not,’ he said quickly.

  But Aerin grabbed the bottle anyway, and before Brett could stop her, she put the whole thing to her mouth for a swig. When she was finished, he directed them to a leather couch in the corner. It was next to the booming speakers, but at least it was semiprivate. ‘You having fun?’ he shouted over the music.

  ‘Duh,’ Aerin slurred. She swatted Brett clumsily. ‘This is probably pretty normal for you, huh? Hosting spur-of-the-moment parties?’

  Brett shrugged modestly. ‘I guess I’ve thrown a few.’ He didn’t want to take all the credit, but he’d put together
this shindig himself. Once they realized they had a whole evening to kill before they met Loren, he’d gotten on his phone, scored a hotel suite, ordered ten bottles of Moët & Chandon from a local wine store, and called a Midtown chef to cook the sick spread of food that was sitting on a long buffet table by the wall. He’d found kids on the street, in Starbucks, and shopping on Fifth Avenue, and invited anyone who looked cool to party. He’d even changed out of his oversized-everything outfit and into a sleek button-down and skinny jeans. When he’d first walked out of the bathroom, Aerin had whistled.

  Which, of course, was exactly the effect he was going for.

  ‘What were you doing with those girls over there?’ Aerin asked in a teasing voice.

  ‘Oh, making shit up to impress them,’ Brett said modestly.

  Aerin snorted. ‘Yeah right.’ She pointed at the girls who were still gathered on the chaise. ‘You sure you don’t want to go back? It’s like your own little Brett Grady fan club.’

  ‘They’re beautiful, but I’m not into them like that,’ Brett said quickly.

  One eyebrow shot up. ‘And why not?’

  If that wasn’t a leading question, Brett didn’t know what was. He grabbed the champagne and poured some down his throat. Liquid courage, right? He’d tried to keep his feelings for Aerin in check, tried to focus on the case, but it was impossible. She kept flirting with him. He’d caught her checking him out when he’d stripped out of the tux at the country club, and he could tell she was impressed by his stylist skills. And yeah, okay, so she’d mistaken the text of him at the mirror for a joke, but she had sent him a selfie back, later, her body leaning toward the camera, her lips puckered in a pout.

  She liked him. She had to. It made sense: they had so much in common. They shared a tragic history. They came from the same world.

  He took a breath. ‘You know this party is for you, right?’

  The corners of Aerin’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile. ‘Me … and just me?’

  ‘You deserve a party. You deserve a hundred parties.’

  A muscle twitched by Aerin’s eye, and she looked out at the crowd. ‘Hope you’ve got the cash to pay a clean-up crew.’ It came out like crean-up clue.

  ‘I’m good for it.’ Normally, Brett would try to corral the group – cleaning bills for hotel suites could cost a fortune. But tonight, he didn’t care. The destructive chaos was actually kind of romantic, totally adding to the moment.

  He turned back to Aerin. ‘I’m serious, though. I put this together for you. So are you having fun?’

  Aerin blinked at him, her cheeks adorably pink. ‘You already asked that, Brett, but yes, I am. Thank you.’

  She sounded grateful. Appreciative. Enamored, even? His heart thudded. He went to grab the champagne bottle, and Aerin did, too. Their hands bumped. Brett didn’t pull away, and neither did Aerin. They looked at each other and laughed. Aerin’s face was so close to his that he could feel wisps of her blonde hair brushing against his cheek. Do it, whispered a voice in his mind. Kiss her.

  ‘Guys.’ Seneca plopped down next to them. ‘Greg Fine is here.’

  Brett bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, annoyed. Worst timing ever.

  ‘Wait, what?’ Aerin swiveled her head around the room. ‘Where? How?’

  ‘Maddox left him another voicemail saying we want to conduct the interview here, tonight, if he’s game. And that’s him, by the door.’ She pointed to a skinny dude in tight jeans. He had a rocker mullet, a pierced nose, and several days’ worth of stubble. ‘I recognize him from his band’s MySpace.’

  Aerin started chewing on her thumbnail. ‘What should we do?’

  Seneca fiddled with the jangling bracelets on her wrist. ‘Well, interview him, obviously. We could play it like the Kevin thing – get him drunk, see if he talks about Helena.’

  ‘Looks like Madison’s already on it,’ Aerin murmured, pointing. Madison had sidled up to Greg and was offering him a bottle of Moët. The dude looked uncomfortable and waved her away.

  Aerin caught Brett’s eye and gave him a conspiratorial wink. He tried to swallow his impatience and turned back to Fine, who was murmuring something to the buddy he’d brought with him, another rocker with a faux-hawk. Moments later, one of the girls who’d stretched out next to Brett proffered him a Solo cup. Once again, Greg shook his head. Brett wasn’t a master lip-reader, but even he could decipher what Greg told her: Sorry. I don’t drink.

  Aerin raised her eyebrows, catching it, too. ‘What rocker doesn’t drink?’

  Seneca stood up. ‘I’ll sniff around.’

  She flounced off, finally. Brett turned back to Aerin, relaxing. ‘So where were we?’

  She gave him a saucy smile and edged closer. In this lighting, Aerin looked angelic, her hair glowing around her face, her eyes large and doe-like. Brett’s heart thumped. Okay, he told himself. Here goes nothing. He shifted so that he was facing her. Reaching out, he touched a lock of her soft hair and curled it around his finger. It was like spun gold. God, blondes made him crazy.

  But then he noticed again how glassy her eyes were. How she wavered back and forth a little as she was sitting next to him. How each time she blinked, her eyes stayed closed a moment too long, as if she was struggling to stay awake. It was clear she was ready to kiss him, but would she even remember it? Brett wanted their first kiss to be memorable. Something she wanted to do when she was sober, too.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, backing away from her slightly and gesturing to a pillow on the couch. ‘Why don’t you lie down? Just for a minute?’

  Aerin didn’t move. She was looking at him with something like love in her eyes, he was sure of it. ‘You’re so sweet.’ She tipped toward him, arms outstretched. ‘Sweet Brett,’ she mumbled, falling right into his arms.

  And then she threw up all over his lap.

  CHAPTER 21

  Maddox sat on the suite’s patio, staring out at the city. Inside, everyone was dancing and drinking and wrecking the place, but he was out here trying to make sense of his swirling thoughts. Catherine had kissed him. Catherine wanted him. He should be psyched about that. So why wasn’t he? Why was he just sort of … meh?

  He pulled out his phone and looked at the text she’d sent him a few minutes ago. Hey, cutie, what’s up? He knew he should text her back. He’d been dying to go out with her for years. And yet, whenever he opened a new window, his fingers stiffened and his mind emptied out.

  The sliding door squeaked and Aerin teetered onto the balcony, a panino in her hand. ‘I threw up,’ she announced drunkenly. ‘But now I feel better.’

  Maddox chuckled. ‘Good for you.’ She still seemed pretty wasted to him.

  Aerin plunked down, stretching out her long, bare legs. ‘Guess who Madison and Seneca just spoke to?’ She took a bite of the panino. ‘Greg Fine.’

  ‘What?’ Maddox stood up halfway. ‘Is he still here?’

  Aerin shook her head. ‘He said this place held way too much temptation.’ She stared back into the party. ‘He’s a recovering alcoholic. Said he’s done several stints in rehab, starting the same fall Helena vanished.’ She widened her eyes. ‘So he could have an alibi. The problem is, there’s no way we can check it. Rehab records are confidential.’

  Maddox thought for a moment. ‘Maybe Dexby PD knows.’

  ‘So what are we going to do, sneak into the station and hack their computers?’ Maddox grinned, clearly eager to play 007, but Aerin shook her head. She tipped in her chair a bit at the motion, ingredients spilling out of her sandwich. ‘You’ve watched too many movies.’

  ‘Did he say anything about Helena?’ Maddox asked.

  Aerin shook her head again. ‘I don’t think Seneca got that far. He bolted after he saw all the booze.’

  ‘Did he seem … weird to you? Did you get a vibe?’

  Aerin thought for a moment. ‘Not really. But what do I know? I’m so lost at this point, Helena’s killer could be here at this party and I wouldn’t have any idea.’

&
nbsp; Maddox waved his hand. ‘That’s ludicrous.’

  Inside, two kids they’d met in the Apple Store popped the cork of another champagne bottle, which flew across the room and shattered a lamp. Everyone laughed drunkenly. Madison, who was now wearing an enormous stuffed Hello Kitty hat she’d bought at the Sanrio store earlier, tipsily kicked the glass into a messy pile.

  Aerin turned back to Maddox and appraised him shrewdly, suddenly seeming far less drunk. ‘So how’s your mom?’

  Maddox blinked, startled. ‘She’s well. And, um, doesn’t your dad live somewhere around here?’ He gestured out at the city.

  Aerin’s face clouded. ‘Downtown. Luckily, we’re nowhere near.’

  ‘You’re not going to visit him?’

  Aerin scoffed. ‘You like hanging out with your dad?’

  Maddox was about to say that his situation was different – he didn’t even know where his dad was. But maybe, when it came down to it, broken families were all the same. They sucked.

  Then Aerin snickered. ‘You know what I used to think about you? You reminded me of that guy from Despicable Me. Gru. The one who had all the Minions.’