You Are Not Alone(65)
Cassandra’s calm, authoritative voice floated into her mind: Play to his ego.
Amanda reached out and put her hand on James’s, trapping it. “That kind of thing must happen to you a lot. That gorgeous blonde back there”—Amanda lifted her chin to indicate a direction behind him—“has been checking you out since I got here.”
James’s head whipped around. She gave her drink a quick stir, then put it on the bar and slid it close to him. The two glasses were indistinguishable—but if she hadn’t forgotten to wipe off her lip gloss, a telltale crescent would have marred the rim.
She grabbed his beverage and held tight to the cold glass as she raised it to her lips and pretended to take a sip.
“You’re the only woman I’ve got eyes for,” James said as he turned back. “With that sexy librarian thing you’ve got going on.”
The liquid was still swirling slightly in the glass in front of him. But he didn’t seem to notice.
He clinked it against hers. “Bottoms up!”
Then he took a deep drink.
Twenty minutes later, he set down his empty glass.
“Another round?” The medicine was beginning to take effect; his words were slightly slurred. Or could that just be from the alcohol?
Amanda leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “Would you mind if we went somewhere quieter?”
He made a little checking motion in the air with his index finger, and the bartender nodded and delivered the bill for the drinks James had consumed before Amanda’s arrival.
James paid with a credit card and squinted down at the receipt as he pulled a pen out of his breast pocket, blinking repeatedly. Amanda knew his limbs were likely beginning to feel heavy. His speech was about to grow almost unintelligible. Soon he’d have difficulty walking.
She had to get him out of here fast.
She stood up the moment he signed the check. Then she heard a tiny, almost imperceptible plinking sound. Her hand instinctively went to her ear. It was bare.
She didn’t have time to retrieve her earring, she decided. It was just a basic gold hoop; nearly every woman in New York had a pair. It would probably be swept up at the end of the night along with crumpled napkins and swizzle sticks and food crumbs and tossed into the trash can.
James stumbled slightly as he stepped down onto the sidewalk, nearly bumping into a man talking on his cell phone.
“I’m tipsy,” Amanda giggled, hanging on to his arm.
“Sh’we get a cab?” he suggested, his voice garbled.
“Would you mind if we walked a little first and got some air?” Amanda reached for his hand, but she was the one guiding him.
They entered Central Park. It was the shadowy hour that preceded darkness. Dog walkers and joggers and even a few late commuters were walking through other parts of the park, but this area was empty. A breeze cut through the summer night, raising goose bumps on her arms.
She led James toward a bench in a secluded area, under the overhang of a giant oak tree’s low-lying branches. She knew exactly where to go; she’d practiced this route before.
James’s knees buckled just as they reached the bench, and he fell heavily onto it.
He slumped to one side, his head lolling on his neck, his eyes closed.
Amanda turned and walked briskly away, letting her hair down, then slipping off her glasses and tucking them into her purse.
In less than ten minutes, she’d enter a restaurant that bordered the park and request a table for one. She’d ask to be seated toward the center of the room; she didn’t want to be invisible tonight. She’d engage the waiter in conversation before ordering, and she’d pay with a credit card bearing her name.
She moved faster, her breath coming quickly. Her part was finished.
She was nearly at the edge of the park when her burner phone rang and Stacey’s voice rushed the line. It held something Amanda had never before heard in it: fear.
Amanda stopped short.
“Something’s wrong,” Stacey blurted. “Get back here.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CASSANDRA & JANE
“SHAY JUST READ TED’S new text apologizing again for standing her up,” Jane says the next morning, showing Cassandra the burner phone. “She hasn’t replied, though.”
“Give it until tonight. Ted can grovel a little more.” Cassandra reaches out and touches the buzzer for 3D. A moment later, they hear Shay’s voice: “Come on up!”
The sisters climb the steps to the landing for the third floor. When they turn the corner and step into the hallway, both stop short.
Shay is standing in Amanda’s doorway, smiling broadly.
The sisters’ shared sense of déjà vu is overwhelming. They’ve seen Shay a few times since her makeover, but the image of her in the precise spot where Amanda used to wait to welcome them is still jarring.
“It’s so good to see you!” Cassandra says.
Shay ushers them over the threshold into the apartment as they look around. The open kitchen is less cluttered than when Amanda lived here: She kept pans on every stove burner and a Cuisinart, bread maker, and tins of flour and sugar on the kitchen counter. Both women chose the same place for their sofas, but Shay’s coffee table is square, whereas Amanda’s was round.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Shay offers.