One of Us Is Dead(27)

“It doesn’t matter,” the man closest to me said while fiddling with the bottle. Something small hit the floor. I assumed the wire cage. The cork popped off and he chuckled, immediately bringing the bottle to his lips. Champagne went everywhere.

“What the hell are you doing back there?” the man up front yelled.

Before he could answer, the candleholder came crashing down on his head. He yelped and fell forward.

The curtains flew open, and the other man stood there, taking in the scene. All I could see were the whites of his eyes beneath his ski mask.

“Oh, shit.”

I took my eyes off of the guy on the floor for too long because all of a sudden, I was falling to the ground. My head hit the tile with a thud, and my vision blurred. The candleholder flew from my hand. The man with the ski mask was on top of me. His hands around my neck, squeezing harder and harder. I tried to reach for something around me but there was nothing.

“Stupid bitch,” he seethed. Spit gathered at his lips and his eyes were red with fury. I tried to reach for his ski mask to remove it, but couldn’t.

“Dude, stop. You’re going to kill her,” the other man begged.

It was getting harder and harder for me to breathe. More pressure on my neck, my windpipe caving in against the pressure.

“You wanna play rough?” he teased.

My voice croaked. “Yeah . . .” I sent a knee right into his groin.

He winced, and I shuffled out from under him. Before I could get away, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back. His fist connected with my face, twice. First, the eye. I saw stars dancing across my vision, everything else going black. Then, the mouth. The taste of warm, thick iron coating the back of my tongue. I heard the other guy yell. Then footsteps, running from me rather than toward me. The glass crunched under his shoes. He had left, and I was pinned beneath the other man once again, fighting for every breath.





19

Crystal


A long walk was what I needed after how the gala had ended. Bryce said he had business to tend to and celebratory cigars to puff with the boys. I was grateful for a reprieve from him because I was so angry and disappointed with how he had treated Shannon. She didn’t deserve that. He had completely humiliated her in front of all of Buckhead. I had told him I was going for a walk and would Uber home from the salon. Earlier I told Jenny that I had left my purse there, and she said she’d wait up for me so I could grab it. But it was late. Honestly, I just wanted a walk to clear my head, so it didn’t matter if Jenny was still up. A cool breeze made the humidity bearable and the walk from the gala to Glow on Peach Street pleasant. I had never seen Buckhead so quiet and peaceful. Not a person or car in sight. The only sound I heard was the click of my heels along the sidewalk. I turned onto Peach Street and saw the sign for Glow up ahead on the left. From where I was, it looked dark inside, so I assumed Jenny had gone to bed. I considered calling an Uber right there, but my feet kept moving forward.

A large man dressed in black shorts and a hoodie suddenly darted out from one of the businesses, and I was sure it was Glow when I saw a shimmery gold bag in his hands. That was my bag. He was just ten yards away, rifling through it.

I quickened my pace and called out, “Hey!”

He snapped his head in my direction. The ski mask covered most of his face except his wide eyes and partially open mouth.

“Goddamn it. I didn’t sign up for this,” he said as he turned on his foot and ran in the opposite direction.

A large inky tattoo covered the back of his pale calf. It looked as though it hadn’t been done by a professional because it was unclear. I considered chasing him down but stopped in front of Glow when I saw the broken glass and the open door. I dialed 911 and placed the phone back in my bag. I was about to yell out, but I heard rustling inside followed by a scream.

My hand went back into my bag and emerged holding a Ruger .380 ACP pocket pistol. It had a chrome finish and a hot-pink grip.

“Better safe than sorry,” I recalled my stepfather saying when he gifted me the gun all those years back. “Treat it like a cell phone and always have it with you.” I was grateful for his advice now. Taking a deep breath, I quickly decided between running in, guns blazing, or making a careful entrance. The man I just saw clearly didn’t have a weapon. The odds were if anyone else was in there, they wouldn’t have one either.

Running through the door, I threw open the velvet curtain and found a man dressed in black, pinning Jenny to the ground. I fired a warning shot. The man quickly scrambled off her and ran down the hallway, crashing into a cabinet as he furtively fled for what I’m sure he thought were his last moments. I flipped the light switch as Jenny sat up. Her eye was already blossoming into what would be a massive bruise. Her mouth was bloody. And vicious red marks covered her neck. She gasped for air, sucking deep, painful breaths that brought tears to her eyes.

“Oh my God, Jenny,” I said, running to her side.





20

Jenny


present

Detective Sanford enters the room carrying two cups of coffee. This time, instead of the Styrofoam cups full of essentially stale brown water, it’s Starbucks. He places one in front of me. He’s gotten more accommodating as the hours have passed, or perhaps he’s taken a liking to me.

“Thank you,” I say, bringing the cup to my lips.