Page 74 of Love and Lies

I snorted. “Yeah, but not in the way you think. They’ve set me up on a date. With some guy who used to shove his classmates in the dumpsters in high school. What a lovely gift, don’t you think?”

“Almost as good as the bottle of lube I got two years ago from my most recent ex, because he ‘wanted to try something new,’ ” she replied dryly.

I couldn’t help but laugh, despite myself. “Okay, that’s worse. You win.”

“I usually do. I’m on duty today, by the way, so if you need someone to bust the restaurant and get you out of your date, say the word.” It was a shame she was kidding. I knew how seriously she took her job, after all.

“Sure thing.” I should have ended the call, since I still had to get ready, but then I thought of Carter and decided to risk it and tell Malia about our meeting. What was the worst that could happen? I’d have to give her the details at some point.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” I began hesitantly. “Did you ever… see Valerie doing drugs?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I talked to Carter Fields about Pratt and the night they died. He said Val was the one who asked him for extras. And paid ten thousand. Cash.”

“Len, if I thought Valerie took cocaine on the regular—or even just as a one-off—I’d have told you.” Malia’s tone was cold. “She was my best friend. Do you really think I’d help you if I thought she was guilty?”

“No, I just thought… because you said it would be enough just to know that she wasn’t responsible for everything. I wasn’t sure if—” I stopped.

“If we were on the same page? How can you say that? I’ve already risked my job more than once to help you find out more about her death, Helena.”

“I didn’t want… I didn’t mean to upset you. But after everything Carter said, I was scared I’d got it wrong. That everything I’m trying to do is pointless, and maybe she actually did what everyone accuses her of.” I hated myself for thinking it, but that was why I couldn’t just turn it off.

“Then I guess you should decide who you’re more inclined to trust—a playboy who’s probably trying to cover his own ass, or your sister, who was always there for you.”

“Malia, I—”

“I have to go, one of my coworkers wants me. Take care, Len. I hope you have a nice birthday.”

She hung up, and I shut my eyes, feeling like I’d pissed off the only person who was even a little bit in my corner. I wished I’d kept my doubts to myself.

“Helena?” My father’s voice sounded through the apartment with a cadence that told me my date had arrived. For a minute I thought about pretending to have a migraine or a stomach flu, but I’d never have gotten away with it. So I grabbed a random pair of shoes, put my phone in my bag, and took a final look in the mirror. I saw someone who had no idea where things went from here. My investigation had hit a dead end, my sister might not have been who I thought she was, and I had to go out with a guy I couldn’t stand because my parents expected it.

“Happy birthday to me,” I muttered in a glum voice.

This really was shaping up to be the worst birthday ever.

I have to get out of here.

It was the only thought going around in my head from the moment Edward Masterson IV had picked me up at the apartment. He’d brought flowers, greeted my parents first before wishing me a happy birthday, complimented my outfit, and showed me out to his car, which took us to the Emperor. We’d been sitting here for just over a quarter of an hour, and with each minute my desire to beat the guy up with the menu was growing stronger. Ever since we’d been shown to our table, his sole focus had been on tormenting our server—who was completely lovely—with his petty behavior.

“The mix ratio still isn’t right.” Edward pulled a face at his martini, the third one they’d brought him so far. “How hard can it be to combine gin and vermouth, six to one? They must have a spirit measure.”

“Can’t you just drink the thing?” I asked, making little effort to disguise my irritation. “That’s obviously just how they make it here. They know what they’re doing.”

He frowned. “You shouldn’t just accept whatever you’re given, Helena. That’s the first rule of success.”

“And I thought the first rule of success was treating others with respect.” That was what my father had taught me, anyway.

Edward laughed as if I’d made a joke. “Best leave it to those who know what they’re talking about.” He leaned forward and patted me patronizingly on the hand. I only just resisted the urge to pull it away. “I’ll look after you—you can count on it.”

I stopped just short of telling him he certainly wasn’t going to get the chance to look after me in any way. How was it possible that someone like Jess was off-limits for me, but I got a round of applause from my parents—and all of high society—for dating a pompous dickwad like Edward Masterson? What kind of fucked-up world were we living in?

Your world, sweetheart. The voice sounded suspiciously like Valerie again.

Luckily, Edward didn’t send the martini back this time, and I got through the appetizers without ramming my fork into his hand. My grip tightened on my cutlery again, though, when the server brought us our entrées and he cut into his steak. I knew what that look on his face meant.