by Kate Brian
“Hi, Mr. Dove? It’s Lexa Greene. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make our meeting,” Lexa said into the phone.
Then she flinched and hit the off button.
“What’d he say?” Ariana asked.
“He said ‘I know that, schizo,’ and hung up,” Lexa replied, looking baffled but relieved.
Ariana bit her tongue to keep from laughing. It was now time to deal the final blow. To get this thing moving so they could both get on with their lives.
“Wait. What about your parents?” she said, her eyes wide. “They’re not—”
“Omigod. My parents.” Lexa pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “My father . . . this would destroy his career,” she said, dropping her arms again. “An attempt on my life? A murderer in his house? He’s already been dragged through the mud the past few weeks, but this . . . he’d never recover. And he’d kill me.”
Ariana stepped forward and slipped the cell phone from Lexa’s fingers. She turned it off and tossed it on the couch. “Then we definitely cannot call the police,” Ariana told her, squeezing her hand. “You make that call and within ten minutes this place will be crawling with detectives and dogs and CSI guys. Not to mention about a hundred reporters, a news helicopter, and a million papa razzi.”
“You’re right,” Lexa said, nodding. “We have to make this go away.”
Spoken like a good politician’s daughter, Ariana thought wryly.
Lexa stared at the body, the legs dangling against the wall, the head and arms trailing into the backyard.
“What about her family?” Lexa said slowly.
“As far as we know she doesn’t even have any,” Ariana reminded Lexa.
“But what if she does? What if they come looking for her?” Lexa asked tremulously.
“Then we just tell them Lillian up and left one morning. No note, no anything. And we have no idea where she went.”
“Do you think that will work?” Lexa asked, looking into Ariana’s eyes. Looking for assurances. Some way to assuage her fear and guilt. Ariana stared back, trying to be the picture of certainty she knew her friend needed.
“I haven’t seen her call a soul since she’s been here. She never mentioned brothers or sisters or parents,” Ariana said in a firm tone. “Maybe Soomie was right. Maybe she was a poseur. Maybe she stole her identity. But trust me, whatever the case may be, Lillian Oswald does not exist.” She took both Lexa’s hands now, her friend’s fingers cold inside her warm grip. “Don’t let a ghost ruin your life. Not to mention your father’s career.”
Lexa nodded slowly, then sniffled. “You’re right. Okay. What do we do?”
“We need to find somewhere to bury the body.”
Lexa turned and paced away from Ariana, away from the horror of Kaitlynn’s corpse, bringing her fingers to her mouth as she thought.
“The pet cemetery,” she said, whirling around. “It’s in the very back of the yard. My mom never goes back there because it makes her too sad. If we put her under the rosebushes back there, no one will notice.”
Ariana nodded. “Let’s get to work.”
COVER-UP
“You’ll take care of it?” Lexa said to Keiko Ogaswara, handing her a wad of cash.
“Of course, Lex. That’s what I’m here for,” Keiko replied. “But are you sure you’re all right?”
Lexa and Ariana had decided they would tell Keiko that they had brought a couple of boys from school back to the house and that Lexa had gotten into an argument with one of them. Being slightly drunk, she’d grabbed the blue-and-white vase and thrown it at him, but he’d ducked and the vase had gone through the window. Lexa had hurled the vase out for good measure, cringing as the piece—worth thousands of dollars—clipped the pane and shattered.
“I’m fine. Really. Just embarrassed. You won’t tell my father, right?” Lexa said. “You know how he feels about reckless behavior.”
“Of course I won’t tell him,” Keiko said, shaking her head and ducking her chin. “Have I ever let slip any of your indiscretions in the past?”
Ariana raised one eyebrow and eyed Lexa. What indiscretions was Keiko talking about?
“No. It’s just . . . this is really important,” Lexa said, glancing past Keiko at the broken window. She and Ariana had meticulously cleaned the blood away before phoning Keiko, but the pane was still shattered. “I didn’t even tell them I was going to be here tonight.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Keiko said, touching Lexa’s arm. “Now you two should go. It’s Halloween and you’re all dressed up.” She smirked down at the skirt of Ariana’s costume. “Like the fake blood, by the way. Very realistic.”
Lexa turned green so fast Ariana was sure she was going to faint. She placed her hand on the small of her friend’s back. “Thanks.”
“You should go out and have some fun,” Keiko said.
Ariana and Lexa exchanged a tired, amused, resigned look. “Right. Fun,” Lexa said. “That’s what this night is supposed to be for.”
She turned and grabbed her purse, opening the door so that Ariana could walk out first. “Thanks again, Keiko!” As soon as the heavy door closed behind them, Ariana let out a breath.
“Do you think she bought it?” Ariana asked.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Lexa said. “She’s not going to tell anyone. She knows that staying on my good side means staying on my dad’s good side.”
Ariana nodded, feeling secure in the steps they had taken to cover up Kaitlynn’s death. The rose bushes out back still had their leaves and even some of their flowers, and after burying Kaitlynn good and deep, then replacing all the earth, their branches completely covered the evidence. They’d worn gloves, and Lexa had made sure to place all the tools back in the workmen’s shed, just as they’d found them—slightly dirty, but not too dirty. Kaitlynn was dead and buried. Really and truly gone. And Ariana was really and truly free.
“We should go somewhere and make sure people see us,” Ariana said. “Like for an alibi.”
“An alibi?” Lexa said, paling all over again.
“I’m sure we won’t need one,” Ariana assured her. “But just in case.”
Lexa looked around at the peaceful front yard, the lights glowing alongside the driveway, the holly bushes lining the walk.
“Well . . . I know a bar. . . .”
“Perfect,” Ariana said, slipping her arm around Lexa’s companionably. Lexa gave her an odd look, but Ariana chose to ignore it. She whipped out her phone to call a cab. “Let’s go.”
FRIENDSHIP
The bar in Georgetown was packed with an odd mix of Washington interns just off work, their collars loosened, their jackets flung over the backs of green vinyl booths, and college-aged Halloween revelers, dressed up as everything from Playboy bunnies to Supreme Court justices. The walls were paneled with dark wood and lined with bookshelves stuffed with old and important-looking tomes, and the bartenders all wore suits, topped by masks of their favorite politicians.
“This is perfect,” Ariana said, yelling to be heard over the shouting and laughing.
“For what? An after-murder drink?” Lexa whispered back sarcastically. She’d put her Heidi Klum wig on again, and her pink sequined dress looked none the worse for the attempt on her life. If not for the dark circles under her eyes and the slightly smudged makeup, no one would have known anything was amiss.
“Okay. That’s the last time we utter the M word,” Ariana said, her eyes cutting. “This is not something we can casually talk about. And remember—it was self-defense.”
“I know,” Lexa said, turning sideways to try to find a path through the jammed-in bodies. “You’re just going to have to give me a few days to get used to it.”
“Hey! My woman’s here!” a guy in a Frankenstein mask shouted, trying to loop his arm around Ariana’s waist.
“Sorry,” she said, shoving his hands away. “This bride is spoken for.”
She pushed her way to the bar and
ordered two dry martinis from Bill Clinton. No one had checked their IDs at the door. Which, possibly, was the reason Lexa knew of this place and liked it.
“You seem so chill,” she said to Ariana.
“It’s called acting,” Ariana lied. She reached past Lexa and took her drink, which Bill was holding out for her. “It’s going to take at least ten of these to calm my nerves.”
She glanced around as Lexa paid for their drinks, and saw a couple dressed up as Sleeping Beauty and her prince getting up from two stools nearby.
“Seats!” she shouted, sliding in to claim them.
A pair of overgrown babies in diapers and footie-pajamas had been gunning for the stools, but Ariana slapped her hand down on the second, saving it for Lexa, who was still struggling through the crowd.
“Sorry. This one’s mine,” she told them.
The babies grumbled something under their breath and walked away. Lexa appeared, sank onto the stool, and slumped her shoulders, resting her drink on the bar. She took a deep breath and looked at Ariana out of the corner of her eye before straightening her posture.
“So.” Lexa gave her a long and serious look. “I suppose you can now consider your S and G task complete.”
Ariana sipped her drink to cover her grin, then sat up straight, the heavy wig of her bride of Frankenstein costume threatening to pull her backward. “I did complete it, though. I just . . . hadn’t turned it in yet.”
“Did you?” Lexa said, lowering her glass from her lips. “You really compromised your precious relationship with the ex-love of my life?”
Ariana’s jaw dropped slightly, surprised that Lexa had caved and been the first to mention it.
“I’ve known about you and Palmer since the night of the NoBash,” Lexa said, placing the glass on an orange and black cocktail napkin. “For two people trying to keep their fling a secret, you really couldn’t have been more obvious.”
Ariana swallowed hard. The insult stung, but she didn’t want to show it.
“Well, I knew all along that you were president of Stone and Grave,” she lied. “For someone trying to keep her position of power secret, you really couldn’t have been more obvious.”
Lexa’s lips twisted into a wry smile. She and Ariana looked at each other for a long moment, and Ariana could see the respect building in Lexa’s eyes. Finally, Lexa lifted her glass and tilted it toward Ariana’s. Their rims clicked and they both took nice, long drinks.
“So. A truce, then?” Lexa suggested, placing her glass down and laying her hands flat on the leather edge of the bar.
“Palmer and I don’t have to hide anymore?” Ariana asked.
“And I will stop being such a raving bitch,” Lexa said with a nod.
Ariana smiled as Lexa turned her stool and shifted her knees toward Ariana. “We’re going to have to have each other’s back now,” she said seriously. “After everything that’s happened tonight, everything we’ve done . . . the pettiness just seems so . . . petty.”
Ariana nodded her agreement. “You’re right.” She looked into Lexa’s eyes. “I’ve really missed my friend, Lex.”
Lexa sighed. “I know. I’ve missed you too, Ana.”
Then she reached forward and threw her arms around Ariana’s neck. Ariana squeezed Lexa back.
“Okay. I’d better go,” Lexa said, checking her delicate gold watch. She took a final swig of her drink, then plucked one of the olives from its skewer with her teeth. “I have official S and G business to take care of, and now’s not the time to start shirking duties.”
Ariana raised an eyebrow with interest. “Anything I can help with?”
Lexa gave her a wry smirk. “Not yet. You may have saved my life, but you are still a tap.”
“God, please don’t let it be any more hazing,” Ariana joked.
“You’ll see!” Lexa said, sliding off her stool.
Ariana was impressed. An hour ago Lexa had been shaking in her stilettos, but she seemed to be bouncing back quickly. Maybe she really was her father’s daughter. Maybe she’d realized that there was no use dwelling on Kaitlynn’s death. That the past was in the past.
Lexa grabbed her purse, paused in front of Ariana, and gave her one last hug. “Talk to you later?”
“Yeah,” Ariana said.
She watched Lexa as she wove her way through the boisterous crowd. They shared a huge secret now, and she was impressed with how well Lexa was handling it. But then, she supposed one didn’t get to be president of a hallowed secret society like Stone and Grave without possessing some serious strength of character.
With a content sigh, Ariana turned toward the bar again. She picked up her martini glass and looked at her odd, white-faced, black-eyed reflection in the mirror behind the bar. For the first time all night, she allowed herself one big, genuine smile. As a girl in a flapper costume claimed Lexa’s empty seat, Ariana lifted her glass to herself in a toast.
Here’s to your future, Briana Leigh Covington.
She brought the rim of the glass to her lips, and a dainty, red-fingernailed hand fell on her arm. The alcohol splashed over the edge onto Ariana’s lap.
“Omigod! It can’t be. . . . Ariana?”
Ariana’s heart turned to stone inside her chest. She knew that voice better than she knew her own. Slowly, she lowered her glass. Her pulse pounded so hard she felt all the blood rush out of her head and into her fingertips and toes. When she turned to the right, she found herself looking directly into the wide brown eyes of Kiran Hayes.
“Holy crap! It is you!” Kiran threw her skinny arms around Ariana’s neck and practically fell into her, clearly drunk off her ass. “Dude!
What’re you doing here?” she wailed. “I thought you were supposed to be, like, dead!”
A couple of guys turned to look and Ariana bit her lip hard, then smiled at them, rolling her eyes. “She’s totally wasted.”
The guys laughed and turned away. She gripped Kiran’s shoulders and pushed her back so that they were facing each other once again, then forced her features into an excited smile.
“Omigod, Kiran! I have so much to tell you!”
Then she hugged her old friend again and closed her eyes. This one was going to hurt.
CLARITY
“Omigod, if you buy me one more drink I’m not even gonna be able to walk out of here,” Kiran said, leaning the full weight of her body into Ariana’s shoulder. Her heeled shoes dangled from her fingers and her eyes were at half-mast. “No more alcohol for Kiran!”
“Wow. I don’t remember the last time I heard you say ‘when,’” Ariana teased with a laugh, swallowing back a lump of something that felt a hell of a lot like guilt.
“I know, right?!” Kiran blurted, her breath so rank Ariana almost fainted. “I’m so not that self-control girl. Unlike you!” She shoved Ariana hard, but Ariana didn’t move. Instead Kiran was the one who almost fell over.
“Okay. I see your point,” Ariana said, struggling to hold her limp friend up. Luckily she only weighed about ninety pounds. “I guess we should go.”
Kiran smiled and flung one arm over Ariana’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you talked me out of going to that Ford party,” she said, rolling her hand around as they struggled for the door. Even in her inebriated state, Kiran caught the appreciative leers of more than one hot guy along the way. “It was gonna be all fat politicians trying to grope me anyway. Soooo pointless.”
“Seriously,” Ariana said, nodding her thanks to the ninja who held the door for them. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I don’t know how you do it!” Kiran said with a laugh. “I mean, faking your own death? That’s so cool. Do you know that I was at your memorial service? I totally was. And everyone was crying and stuff. It was intense! You should’ve been there.”
Ariana smirked.
“It must be so weird, though . . . like, not being able to talk to your old friends. But you can talk to me now!” She attempted to stand up straight and tripped, bracing herself agains
t a lamppost. “I wanna say something.”
Ariana took a deep breath and counted to ten as a group of college kids checked out Kiran, laughing at her serious wastedness. Every person that noticed the two of them was a potential threat.
“What do you want to say?” Ariana asked, hooking her arm around Kiran’s waist and hurrying her across the street.
“I wanna say that I’m glad you got rid of Thomas Pearson,” Kiran said, gesturing with her clutch purse. “I mean . . . honestly? I never liked that guy. What a total jackass.”
Ariana forced a laugh as she and Kiran hit the sidewalk on the far side of the street. Luckily, there wasn’t a ton of traffic. It was getting late, and most people had either turned in for the night or were still out celebrating at their Halloween parties. She cut left to walk along Key Bridge, knowing that she was going to have to get this over with as quickly as possible. If a police cruiser came by, not only would her hastily constructed plan be foiled, but she and Kiran would probably end up being hauled off for drunken disorderly behavior. Resolved, Ariana ducked her head and clung to Kiran’s side as if she’d never let her go.
Ariana’s throat closed up and tears prickled at her eyes.
Don’t do this, she told herself. Don’t get emotional. She doesn’ t care about you. She never came to visit you at the Brenda T. She never even called. The girl is a drunken waste of space who will probably end up dead of an overdose soon anyway. Really, you’re doing her and the little girls of the world a favor. One less wacked-out supermodel to look up to.
Or maybe . . . maybe she could just let it go. Kiran was completely gone anyway. There was a solid chance that she would wake up tomorrow and not remember anything that happened tonight. Or, at the very least, assume she imagined it. Maybe she didn’t have to do this.
“Omigod! You know what we should do? We should call Noelle!” Kiran said, stopping suddenly at the center of the bridge as a Porsche zipped by them, its engine revving. She whipped out her cell phone with surprising dexterity, then tripped sideways toward the guardrail. The light atop the nearest lamppost dimmed suddenly, and it was like a sign. A wake-up call. Just like that. Ariana no longer felt nostalgic or sorry or hesitant.
