Good Rich People(51)

“We’re not arguing, darling. We’re just chatting,” his mother says. “Girl talk, isn’t it, Lyla?”

“I don’t see how what happened to Elvira is my fault,” I snap, breaking character.

Margo’s metal chair scrapes the stone floor. “You warned her.”

I keep my mouth shut. I remind myself that she doesn’t know. She is just good at guessing. I don’t remind her that she warned me on my wedding day: No one will ever offer you something of more value. But the truth is, I did warn Elvira. It was my fault in a way.



* * *





THE CONVERSATION HAPPENED by the fountain, ironically enough. I caught Elvira sitting there that night alone, staring at her own reflection. I didn’t know exactly what Graham got up to when it was his turn. I knew about the game but I didn’t want to know the details. I prided myself on being sophisticated. Some wives look the other way when their husbands have affairs. I look the other way when my husband crushes people’s lives. But I didn’t want him to crush Elvira. I liked her. She reminded me of myself, the parts that had deadened with time.

She looked up at me, water shadows undulating on her face, and she said, “It’s not that deep, is it? It looks so deep sometimes.”

I was slightly spooked, so I hurried toward the door. “Do you want a glass of Mo?t?”

“No.” She paused. “I get so sick of it, don’t you?”

I laughed. “Of course.”

Then she plunged her arm into the water suddenly, all the way up to her elbow, soaking her jacket. She held her arm up, victoriously, marking the waterline. “This is how deep it is.”

I was frozen by the door. “You’re right. They’re bad people,” I warned her. It was interesting that I said they’re and not we’re. Margo would have found it interesting.

“Who?” she asked, like she found it interesting, too.

“Them. You know, rich people.”

She just laughed. “Good people are boring.” It was something I would say. She was just like me, really. And now she is dead.

At the time, I laughed, too, and I went inside. Graham was standing by the door, listening. I was caught. “What was all that about?”

“I was just making conversation—”

“You were interfering. Do you want me to lose?” Like he could ever lose.

“No.” I just didn’t want her to.



* * *





GRAHAM AND MARGO are both watching me now, awaiting my reaction. An admission of guilt, a plea for mercy, nothing would be enough. They don’t know what they want. They already have everything.

Graham stands up. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” I have to remind myself he is going to the bathroom. This is not a tactic. This is not a plan.

Margo and I watch him disappear up the stairs. As soon as he is out of earshot, Margo lights another cigarette. Bean has gone quiet. I’m about to ask where she is when Margo announces, “He’s bored,” like it’s a death sentence. She ashes her cigarette too early. “He’s been bored for a while now.”

“You’re such a dear to care so much,” I growl.

Smoke spools from Margo’s nose, dragonlike. “You’re going to lose.”

My nerves coil. “You set me up?”

Margo shakes her head. “She’s smarter than you. She plays dirty. Do you know how she got her job at Alphaspire? She left a trail of ruined careers behind her. She destroyed people’s lives. You won’t best her. She’s nasty. I selected her especially for you. You’re going to lose.”

No one has ever lost before. There is no hard, fast rule for what will happen. But it is obvious. These people don’t lose. If I do, I am not one of them. If I am not one of them, I am out. Graham will leave me, and that is just for starters. I know too much. I can’t just walk away.

“Does Graham know?” It’s the only thing I care about. Is he in on it, too?

“Not yet, but it’s for the best. I’m doing him a favor. He’ll appreciate it in the long run. Not that long.” The sad thing is, I don’t think she’s wrong. He is bored. He’s tired of me. I don’t want Margo to be right but she is. “It’s her or you.” Her dimples are showing. She thinks I still have a chance. I do still have a chance.

If anything, this makes it easier. Demi is nasty. She’s destroyed people’s lives. She’s not the nice, nervous girl she seems to be. She’s not a victim; she’s an adversary.

I can prove myself to Margo, to Graham. I can keep them entertained. I can shock them.

I will destroy her.





LYLA



I drink too much at dinner, and by the time we get home, my body feels tight. My muscles ache. I want to collapse into bed. Graham reeks of cigarettes. He smoked all the way home. He takes one last puff and pitches the cigarette into the dark. In California. Where the whole state is a tinderbox.

Our entryway is pitch-black.

“The bulb must have gone out,” Graham mutters at the gate, looping his hand around my waist to help me, shepherding me down the short steps to the courtyard. My foot lands on something soft. It gives beneath my weight and I startle, try to back away when it caves in with a wet popping sound.