Like a Sister(86)

“Nope,” Desiree lies. “I just wanted to get your reaction to the gift. It’s cool. I’ll just turn the camera to face me. We can hear it.”

Another lie.

Desiree puts her hand out, balled in a fist, and Lena slowly pulls the balloons back down. “Ready for your gift?” Desiree says.

“Sure.”

She flips her hand over and melodramatically opens it.

“What is that?” Lena sounds confused.

“It’s a Visa White Card. From Mel. Invitation only. One of the perks is swag bags.”

Lena’s face falls.





Twenty-Seven



I clutched the credit card the entire Uber ride home, rubbing it so hard I was surprised the numbers didn’t come off. I jumped every time my phone buzzed—hoping it was him. Wanting to apologize. Wanting to know why I left. Wanting me to come back.

It never was. It was Omar or Erin or Gmail alerting me there were “hot singles” in my area. My mood was shit by the time I walked in my front door. Aunt E peeked her head out when I was halfway up the steps. “How’d it go—” She stopped when I didn’t. Finally spoke again just as I got to my own door. “I’ll be here when you want to talk.”

I didn’t want to. Not anymore. I beelined straight to my couch, throwing the credit card on the coffee table. I didn’t turn on the television, didn’t ask Alexa to play Spotify.

I didn’t move until there was a knock on my apartment door and Erin came in. She smiled tightly. “I called to check on Aunt E and heard you weren’t in a good mood. Before you get mad, she told me not to come. But I’m staying with a friend in Harlem so it didn’t take long to get here.”

When I didn’t make a crack about her friend’s house, she took another tentative step in. I braced myself, waiting for her to ask me what had happened. Instead, she just sat on the sofa, put her head back, and stared at the ceiling, a look of utter peace on her face. It was the first time I’d ever seen her not checking her phone.

She didn’t move when I finally got up, retrieved Desiree’s phone. She didn’t move when I sat back down and opened the phone app, scrolling to the day she died. Last time I’d picked numbers at random. This time I called back every single one.

The first was spam. So was the second. The third, the voicemail of some famous person on their third reality show. It went on like this. Call after call after call. Pressing each number without really thinking it through. I was clumsy with the few people who answered. Just saying I was her sister, wondering if they’d met the day she’d died. They all sounded perplexed as they answered no.

After an hour, I was done. Erin still hadn’t said a word. Just watched as I threw the phone dismissively on the coffee table. It stopped a few inches from the credit card. It was only then Erin moved. She picked up the Visa, looked at the name, and finally smiled. “Freck and I had so many good times with this.”

“So I heard. Lots of hotel stays.”

“And dinners. And clothes. I got a thousand-dollar facial once. Broke out bad the next day. We used it for everything.”

She threw it back down, leaning back again on the couch just as I sat up. “Everything?”

“At one point it was our sole spending money, so yes.”’

“So Desiree probably used it the day she died.”

“We used it for breakfast before she ran off to see Free.”

“Ever check the account?”

Erin just gave me a look. “We didn’t have to pay it off so there was no need. Why?”

“Good.” That meant I could create an account log-in. It was technically my card. I grabbed my laptop from my bedroom.

Within five minutes we were looking at a log of Desiree’s last purchases. I even printed them out.

It wasn’t the aha moment you get in movies. Whoever she’d seen after meeting Free, she hadn’t footed the bill. So I made Erin go back through each charge, highlighting any she didn’t recognize. “Starbucks—2025 Broadway,” I said to her. It was dated two weeks before her death.

She responded, “Wasn’t there.”

I highlighted it. The credit statement proved Desiree’s soy chai latte addiction was just as bad as everything else. She’d gone to Starbucks. A lot. I flipped the page. Checked the highlights. That’s when I noticed it. Desiree wasn’t going to Starbucks a lot. She was going to a Starbucks a lot.

“Why would Desiree spend so much time on the Upper West Side?”

Erin shook her head. “No one we know lives up there.”

I opened Google Maps, put in the address. “It’s a block from where Kevin House died. A few blocks from her accident. And look: there are charges for the restaurant next door too.”

The area was as residential as one could get in the city. If there was a witness to her accident, it wasn’t because they were there clubbing it up. They were probably at home.

“She could’ve been meeting Zor-El.” I checked the time on my cell. “It’s only noon. Plenty of time to head over. Ask if they remember seeing her. Anyone with her.” I jumped up.

“You want company?” Erin said, then noticed my hesitation. “We can divide and conquer.”

She had a point. “Let’s go.”