Like a Sister(36)

I looked around nervously, as if Free would jump out any second like the guy from the Friday the 13th movies. The gym’s main workout space was off to the left, hidden behind one of those cloudy white walls meant to let in light while also ensuring privacy. It worked too well. From my vantage point, only two machines were visible. Both empty.

“He’ll be here soon,” Erin said.

I hoped she was right. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“Me neither.”

She lasted fifteen minutes, ten of which she spent staring at herself in her camera. It took me a sec to realize she was just as nervous as I was. This was her way of showing it. I let her be, channeling my own energy into my phone too. Stuart had texted. Checked with my source. Autopsy should take two weeks.

I sent a quick thank-you. Those two sentences were more than I’d gotten from the cops. Beside me, Erin abruptly stood up. “Gonna go chat with the girl at the front desk.” She strolled over. “Hey, is Billy here? Tell him Erin wants to talk.”

The chick at the front desk placed a call, and just like that, Billy magically appeared. He was one of those beautiful, deceptively skinny guys who used to be my type.

He gave Erin a once-over. “I hope you’re here to work out.”

Why did the pretty ones always ruin it by opening their mouths? I tore my eyes off him in time to see Erin freeze, confidence dripping out like water from a broken air conditioner. She pointed to me. “She wants to talk to you.”

Speaking with Billy wasn’t part of the plan. I thought quickly. “I’m a huge fan of Free, and Erin said you knew him. And we were in the area. And I was just hoping, like, maybe to get an autograph when he comes in.” I smiled as innocently as I could.

He spoke to me while glaring at her. “As much as I would love to help out any friend of Erin, Free left an hour ago.”

Erin glanced at me, then back at Billy. “I thought he worked out in the afternoons?”

“Mornings. He comes here straight from the studio. That was the problem with you. Too self-centered to listen.”

I jumped in again. “It’s cool. We’ll be here tomorrow.”

“He won’t. After his show tonight, he’s on a flight to England.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll tell us where we can find him now?” I said. “I really want that autograph.”

He just laughed and turned to Erin. “I want my ring back,” he said. “Now.”

At that point I was over it. If he didn’t want to help, I didn’t want to kiss his ass any longer. He must’ve noticed me glaring because he smiled, probably thinking it came off as charming. “My apologies. I can be a dick.”

“Probably to make up for the small one God gave you,” I said.

Billy gaped, then looked at Erin.

“Don’t look at her,” I said. “Who do you think told me? Bye, Billy. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Erin spoke as soon as we walked down the hall. Neither of us looked back, though I’m sure Billy was just where we’d left him. “You. Are. Amazing. That’s something your sister would have said.”

“Billy mentioned Free has a show tonight.” We got to the elevator and I pushed the UP button. While we waited, I searched online. “I don’t see any shows listed on his website.”

Erin shrugged. “Maybe it’s some surprise appearance.”

Great. New York City had dozens of concert venues, from the massive Madison Square Garden to the more intimate Mercury Lounge. There was no way we’d be able to hit each one. I briefly considered calling them all but realized I could call someone else.

Naut picked up just as the elevator doors opened. Erin started to go inside, but I motioned for her to stay put.

“How you feeling?” Naut said.

“Better than you sound.” I remembered I’d stopped after two Lemon Drops while he’d kept going. Judging from the clinking of glass in the background, still going even though it had been two days. “Quick question. Have you heard about Free doing any secret shows tonight?”

“Just PowerJam.”

PowerJam was a big concert one of our hip-hop stations put on at Madison Square Garden. “You sure?” I said. “I don’t remember hearing he was part of the lineup.” I’d know. I followed the station’s Instagram.

“Surprise guest. To celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of his first album.”

“Give me a sec, Naut.” I turned to Erin. “Think you can get us PowerJam tickets? I know it’s sold out.” The station had posted that tidbit too.

“I don’t know,” Erin said. “I have a ticket guy, but he’s been acting kinda shady.”

That wouldn’t do. I spoke again to Naut. “Can you get us backstage?”





Eleven



It took fifty minutes and two transfers to get to Erin’s place. She’d texted me her address off Tenth Avenue in Chelsea. Not exactly a hop, skip, and jump from where we were going—or anywhere, really—but it didn’t matter. The only walking most residents did in this neighborhood was from front door to waiting car.

When we first met, Erin had called Gram’s place a town house, as if it had something in common with where she lived. Her version was different from anything you’d find in the Bronx, even putting the red-brick exterior and multiple levels aside. My place was missing about six thousand square feet, a multimillion-dollar price tag, and a set of front stairs long enough to land a plane. It took Erin forever to make the trek to answer her front door. I passed the time looking up her address on Zillow. It turned out she was walking on $2,533 per square foot. I’d take my time too. When the door finally opened, there was a gust of central AC colder than most windchill factors. Her electric bill probably cost more than most rents. Of course, Erin wasn’t the least bit concerned with letting all that expensive air out.