Page 21 of Murder on the Upper East Side

‘We share followers,’ she said icily. ‘You know that.’

‘You’re insane.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ she hissed. ‘Change your branding, or I can make things much nastier from here on out.’

Oliver’s temples throbbed; he was seconds away from losing his cool altogether. He dug his freshly manicured nails into his palm.

‘There’s something else going on here.’ His voice was steady, but cold. ‘You’ve spoken to Bash, I presume.’

There was a long pause, and Oliver waited. He was right, he had to be. This was what Madison was really afraid of.

When she spoke again, her voice was cheery. ‘Goodbye, Oliver. Lovely catching up.’

Then the line went dead.

‘Fuck.’ He slammed his fist into the island. The large crystal bowl of cocktail limes rattled.

Should he act on Bash’s intel? If he did, his YouTube career was sure to go up in flames. He couldn’t, right?

But the opportunity to strike Madison where it really hurt was way too good to leave on the table. If he chose to use the power Bash had handed him, he could get the bitch off his back, for ever.

17 October 2016

Instagram

Image: Gemma Phipps sitting alone at a table in the Prescott Academy library, eating lunch from a bento box brought from home.

TheUpperEdgeWhen you break up Prescott’s favourite couple, you’re destined for a lot of lonely library lunches. Anyone want to throw poor Gemma a bone?

@NicholasVon_KWoof woof.

@Ethan_ASTORWho let Gemma skank up the library? This is a place of learning!

@BrunoPluto@Ethan_ASTOR lol I was just in there dropping off a book. Still reeks of parfum du slut in the biology section.

@MsMadzTime to get off Park Ave, @Gemma_is_Dolce

720 October 2016

A couple of weeks after the party at the Harringtons’ home, the scene of Elle and Theo’s dramatic split, Hannah found herself back in the good graces of both totems of Prescott royalty. Her sympathy for Elle had paid off, as had standing up to Madison. Her duties as Hannah’s new student liaison, none of which she’d taken very seriously to begin with, had officially ended several weeks into the school year, but she’d deemed Hannah intrepid enough to keep around. For now, anyway.

The girls’ ‘cold war’, as Bash had termed it, was over, at least for this week. At three-thirty on Thursday, Madison and a select group of guests – Elle, Bruno, Ethan and Hannah – were settled in her private wing of the DuPonts’ Carnegie Hill home.

The wing contained four rooms – a bedroom, study nook, lounge and en-suite bathroom. Alex DuPont made do with a large bedroom and private bathroom on the opposite end of the co-op. He and Ami were there now, availing themselves of Alex’s state-of-the-art gaming system (which stayed tastefullyconcealed behind panelled cabinetry when not in use, of course).

Hannah lifted a herbed chèvre and sliced pear tartine from a long, low table in Madison’s lounge, where they’d been artfully arranged on a slate tray by Inez, the DuPonts’ longtime housekeeper. Along with the tartines, Inez had prepared parmesan shortbread coins; a fruit platter of figs, blood orange slices and pomegranate seeds; and small ceramic dishes of slightly warmed Marcona almonds and Castelvetrano olives. And those were just the savoury snacks. The sweet offerings – almond and brown butter financiers and clementine segments dipped in dark chocolate – rested on a stoneware tray. Somehow, Inez had whipped it all up in the fifteen minutes since Madison had texted to let her know she was on her way home with a few friends.

Beneath the platters and trays was a vintage linen runner, casually rumpled. Hannah took it in, along with the cashmere shawl hanging forgotten from a lampshade and a signed copy ofNight Sky with Exit Wounds, which had been dog-eared and left tented on top of Madison’s record player. To be surrounded by beautiful, expensive things was a way of life. To show them so little care was a choice in part aesthetic, in part adolescent.

Hannah bit into the tartine and tried not to get any crumbs on the faded – yet surely antique – Moroccan rug on the floor beneath her. It was good, sure, but she secretly missed the Cool Ranch Doritos waiting for her in the pantry at home.

‘So… do we think she’s really gone?’ Bruno asked before sinking his teeth into a slice of blood orange. It dripped down his chin, and Ethan leaned over to playfully swipe at his boyfriend’s face with a cocktail napkin.

After weeks of putting on a brave face, Prescott’s favourite lingerie-loving teen had been suspiciously absent from school for the past three days. Rumours flooded the comments onThe Upper Edge’s latest post, the most popular being that Gemma Phipps had dropped out – and enrolled in public school downtown.

Elle squared her shoulders and frowned at her phone, which was protected in a black leather Smythson case monogrammed withEMH– Eleanor Mabel Harrington. ‘Perhaps. I need to knowwhichschool. Then I can pull the enrolment records.’

‘How are you going to do that?’ Bruno crunched down on an almond.