“I’m sure,” Gray said, forcing patience into her words, “that you want us to find—”
“Us?” The old redhead scowled. “You ain’t the police, and if I’m gonna tell anybody anything about what was going on, it’s gonna be them, when they come to talk to me.”
“But the police aren’t interested. She’s been gone for about seven weeks, right? They’re not looking for her because they don’t think she’s missing. But if you know something, if you know the truth, you have to tell me so that I can alert—”
“You think I’m an idiot?” Nan whispered. “You think I’m one of those young things with barely a thought in my head?”
“I think you have millions of thoughts in your head, and that’s why I need your help.”
Nan plucked lint from her cotton blouse and let the fibers float to the carpet. “I don’t know who you’re working for, young lady, but I do know that I ain’t gotta say shit to you.” The old woman chewed on her tongue—she wanted to say something else, because old gals like Nan Keaton liked saying plenty of things.
But just as Gray was about to give up …
“Problem is,” Nan said, “Isabel ain’t all that innocent in this, either. But she did what she had to do, cuz that’s us women. Doing what we gotta do to survive. And sometimes? That ain’t nice. Sometimes, that ain’t easy. But we get to be aboveground for one more day.”
TEN YEARS AGO
A FAIRY TALE AWAITS
Girls’ trip!
Las Vegas with Zoe, Jay, and Avery!
Tonight, Natalie thought, the town looked showgirl gorgeous. Fake everything, uh-huh, but shiny and clean and impossibly slick and painted. At noon, thermometers had hit 110 degrees, but once the sun had dipped, temperatures dropped to one hundred. Two hours before midnight, the sky was still bright as the afternoon—neon signs and car headlights, digital billboards and the glint of chrome and brass everything.
That night, the girls partied at TRUE in Caesars Palace. After five blowjob shots—delicious concoctions of Baileys, Kahlúa, amaretto, and whipped cream—Natalie stumbled onto the club’s VIP deck and right into Sean Dixon, the club’s promoter and the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. With close-cut wavy hair and skin the color of Southern pecans, he was a big man who moved like a dancer. Smooth like Cab, smooth like Fred. Slick. Yeah, Sean Dixon was slick.
He said, “I like your smile, Shorty.”
Yeah, okay. Her smile, and not the hot-pink dress wrapped tight as sausage skin around her hips and ass?
She said, “Thank you. I like your eyes.” Hazel to brown on cue, those eyes cut her open, right there on the spot, they were that sharp.
He bought her another drink and they talked about everything and nothing. The first black president. The dangers versus the rewards of eating raw cookie dough. Her job at the Oakland Museum of California.
She liked his confidence.
He liked her reference to Marlon Brando hiding in the shadows in Apocalypse Now.
Later, the couple escaped to his suite on the eighth floor. He touched her, and she shimmered like silver dust on a butterfly’s wings, like golden sunbeams through crystal raindrops. She held her breath as she straddled his waist. Not wanting to burst. Not wanting to release any of the crazy excitement that ricocheted through her veins. Her joy was fragile—a new thing, a rare thing, the finest china dangling from a cliffside.
She was twenty-nine years old and nothing had ever gone her way—why would this?
So she held her breath.
“Stay the night?” Sean asked, after they made love.
Worried, Natalie glanced at the window and imagined her friends wandering the Strip in search of her. And then, in that same window, she saw everything shining like gemstones. The world was so … alive.
“My girls,” she said. “They’re probably freaking out.”
“It’s damn near three o’clock in the morning. They’re finished freaking out and now they’re in bed with curlers in their hair.” Sean laughed and rubbed her arm. “Stay, babe.”
She tried to laugh. “You’re probably right.”
“If you’re gonna stress out, though, just call them. Where are you guys staying?”
She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. “Circus Circus.”
He snorted. “Seriously? That place is ghetto as fuck.”
Natalie tapped Avery’s number. “Sixty dollars a night—can’t beat it when you still have student loans to pay.” She didn’t have loans—her parents hadn’t needed to borrow—but Sean didn’t need to know that.
Avery didn’t answer. Neither did Jay or Zoe. So Natalie left a message and then sent a group text. I’m safe. With Sean at Caesars. See u in the morning!
That night, Natalie stopped holding her breath.
That night, Natalie shimmered like silver dust and golden sunbeams.
The next morning, she called Avery again.
This time, Avery answered. “Oh, so you decided to let us know you’re not dead.”
Avery’s words slithered from the receiver and coiled around Natalie’s neck. But she ignored that tightening and the anger rolling around her gut. “I’ll see you guys soon.”
After a fifteen-minute cab ride, Natalie slipped into the smoky casino of Circus Circus. Up in the hotel room, her friends said nothing to her, and so she retreated to the bathroom to change into shorts, a tank top, and a pair of Vans. She twisted her long hair into a ponytail while talking herself into confronting her friends.
Just go. Just … get it over with.
She stomped out of the bathroom and into the room. Arms crossed, she stood in front of the television. “Are y’all gonna say something?”
Avery, on the carpet, kept flipping through Cosmopolitan.
Zoe, on the couch, kept painting her toenails.
Jay, in one of the queen-size beds, pretended to sleep.
Not feeling her feet or her face, Natalie said, “Fine. What-the-fuck-ever. I’ll check in with you guys later.”
After she and Sean ate breakfast, they played slots and then walked along the Strip. Later, they held hands as they caught a magic show over at Excalibur. He bought her a Gucci handbag, kissed her again, and then, with a pat on her ass, he sent her back to her friends.
At dinnertime, she returned to Circus Circus.
Thick eyebrow cocked, Avery said, “You just met the man and he bought you a Gucci?”
Zoe’s fuchsia lips twisted into a grin. “In exchange for ridin’ that dick all night.”
“Ouch, Zee.” Jay’s eyes burned into their wayward friend, who was now standing before them with tears in her eyes.
Being called a whore by her best friends? Damn, that hurt. “Can’t you be happy that I finally met someone?”
He’s an asshole.
He’s possessive.
Can’t you tell that he’s crazy as fuck?
None of this was true. They hated that Sean had taken her away from them for one night. One. Night. That he hadn’t included them in her magical evening. Jealousy. Like onions and sweat, jealousy stunk up a room.
On Monday’s flight back to Oakland, Jay, Avery, and Zoe didn’t speak to Natalie.