Say the Word(99)
“Hanging up, now.”
“Wait! I’m sorry to call so late, but it’s important.” She couldn’t have missed the strain in my words. “Please.”
“Fine, five minutes,” she agreed, sighing. “What is it?”
“Have you ever heard of Labyrinth?” I asked. “It could be a club or a restaurant, I’m not sure.”
There was a pause over the line. I pictured her lying in bed, her tired mind reeling through thousands of restaurants, nightclubs, and organizations as she tried to conjure up a memory of the place I’d mentioned.
“Is it in Upper East? Near Madison and Park?”
At her words, I felt my throat constrict. I stared at MadHatter’s comment with wide eyes. “Yeah, that’s the one,” I whispered.
“I don’t know much.” She yawned audibly. “I think it’s members-only. Elite — very exclusive. We’re talking old money. Some of the city’s oldest, wealthiest families are supposedly affiliated. Politicians, professional athletes, mega-wealthy power players. But I don’t know for sure; no one does. They don’t exactly publish members’ names in the Post on Sundays.”
A sinking feeling turned my stomach when I realized that, if Fae and MadHatter were correct about Labyrinth, it would throw a major wrench in my plans to search the building. I couldn’t simply follow this lead and walk through the front doors. Places like this, with their closely guarded velvet ropes and multitude of bouncers, were harder to get into than the White House.
“Hypothetically, if someone who wasn’t a member wanted to get in… how would someone do it?”
Fae was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Humor me,” I appealed.
“It’s impossible,” she said. “You can’t get in unless you’re either a member yourself or the guest of one.”
Damn. I thought for a moment before further querying my annoyed friend.
“Hypothetically, if someone wanted to find out the members’ names… how would someone go about it?”
“Hypothetically?” Fae’s tone was skeptical but amused. “That someone would have to call her best friend at well past a decent hour, in the middle of the night, and ask said friend to make a call.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She sighed. “I know a guy. He makes it his business to find out this city’s secrets. I’ll call him in the morning, see what he can do. No guarantees, but it’s worth a shot.”
“I owe you a bottle of wine,” I said, feeling my spirits lift. With any luck, Fae’s mystery man — who I totally had to ask about at a later date because, um, how cool was it that she ‘knew a guy’ who dealt in secrets — would come through for us and I’d have another lead to chase down.
“More than one,” she observed. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. This is about Vera and that crazy-town collage of theories you’ve plastered all over your apartment wall. We’re overdue for a chat about your conspiracy obsession. No more secrets.”
“Oh, like you don’t have secrets of your own.” I snorted. The girl was practically a Pandora’s Box of mystery.
Fae sighed, but didn’t contradict my words. “I’ll call you tomorrow after I hear back about Labyrinth. We can meet after work.”
“Thanks, Fae.”
“Yeah, yeah. Call before ten next time,” she grumbled, clicking off.
Despite her grouchiness I knew no matter what time I called, Fae would always answer. I smiled as I stashed my phone on my bedside table, closed down my laptop, and snuggled deeper beneath my comforter. It had been a pretty awesome day, if you didn’t count my interaction with Sebastian — which I wasn’t. The last thing I saw before my eyes drifted closed was my Cinderella gown hanging on the door of my closet.
***
The bartender slid a glass of Merlot across the mahogany bar top, grabbed the bills I’d placed on its sticky surface, and moved on to take another order. I stared into the deep crimson swirling in my glass, mired in a bad mood I hadn’t been able to shake all day.
Not since Cara had shown up at the office this afternoon, anyway.
She’d sauntered in, two lesser-known models following at her heels as any proper minions should, and immediately headed for Sebastian. Sure, I’d been studiously ignoring him all day as I worked on a new piece about how the 1960s fashion evolution echoed female empowerment, but once Cara made a move in his direction, all of my senses shifted into high-alert. I watched her progress with narrowed eyes, listened intently to her girlish greeting, and flinched when I saw her wrap skeleton-thin arms around his torso.
My head told me in a calm, rational tone that I should be glad he had someone else to distract him from his mission to discover what had happened between us seven years ago.
My heart let out a battle cry and decked itself out in war-paint, beating a drum and sharpening a spear as it prepared to engage Cara in a savage altercation that would leave no doubt about who Sebastian belonged to.
I fought against my more primal instincts and managed to talk myself off the edge. Not very far off — just a step or two back from the brink — but enough that I could turn my eyes back to my laptop and at least pretend to focus on my story. My gaze may have been averted, but my ears were finely attuned to every word that escaped Cara’s Maybelline-endorsed Very Berry lips.