Trigger

by Julia Derek

  I rested my head on my fingertips. I was exhausted. What with my already demanding work schedule, the stressful incidents with Nina that culminated with Emma’s death, I could use a vacation. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken one anyway. It must have been more than a year ago since I’d had three days off in a row.

  “Are you crying?”

  I looked up. Elisa stood before me, holding onto the doorframe to my office. She was dressed in a short white skirt and snug glittery top, her hair was done and there was lots of makeup on her face. She was either on her way to dinner with her girlfriends or a date.

  “No, why would I be crying?” I said.

  “I don’t know. You just looked like you were crying…” She peered at me. “Wow, you seem tired.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t slept that much lately,” I replied and ran my hands through my hair. “Where are you going all dolled up?”

  “I’m meeting up with Katya and Lisa for dinner. Girls’ night out.”

  “Oh. So what are you doing here then?” I checked the time on my computer screen on my desk. “It’s almost nine already. Kind of late for dinner. Don’t you have to be up early?”

  “Yeah, I do, but Katya doesn’t get out until nine and she needs to have some fun since Ethan dumped her, so I’m rallying. I can always make up sleep over the weekend.”

  She walked up to my desk and dug for something in her Louis Vuitton purse. She fished out a pair of tickets and dropped them on the shiny black table top.

  “Here you go,” she said. “Tickets for the Lakers this Saturday. Courtside seats. That should cheer you up a little. I had a few minutes to kill, so I figured I’d swing by your office to see if you were here.”

  I grabbed the tickets and stared at them like I couldn’t believe they were for real. Then I looked up at my pretty blond sister and grinned wide.

  “Thanks! That will cheer me up. How the hell did you manage to score those? The only seats I’ve been able to get are crappy ones at the top this year and I’m pretty connected.”

  Elisa flashed me a content smile. “Well, clearly not as connected as your little sis these days. One of my clients is Kobe Bryant.”

  My jaw dropped. “For real? Kobe’s your fucking client?”

  “No, he’s not my ‘fucking client.’ I’m not a prostitute, you know. I just happened to get to work with him yesterday because my boss needed help.” Elisa smirked. “It’s really her client.”

  I got to my feet, walked around my desk and gave my sister a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. “Thanks, sis. Watching a great game courtside is just what I need to feel better. I hope you get to go, too.”

  “Another time. I figured you’d enjoy them more than I would.”

  “That’s probably true.” Out of us two, I was definitely the bigger Lakers’ fan.

  She slapped my arm with her purse. “Okay, gotta go, bro. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better now.”

  “Definitely feeling better. Thanks again. Let me know if you need a ride home later. I’ll probably be here at the office another couple of hours. Have some work to catch up on.”

  “Think we already have our designated driver, but thanks anyway. See ya later!”

  Waving her hand, Elisa swished out of my office, her blond curls bouncing. I was still smiling long after she had left, thinking how lucky I was to have such a sweet and cool sister. After having spent years apart when I was in college, we were now much closer again, just like we’d been when we were small kids. I looked at the tickets in my hands. I’d bring Victor to the game. Victor hardly ever got out of the house ever since his third child was born less than six months ago. He’d appreciate it more than my buddies. I should text him immediately to make sure he could make it.

  As I pressed the Send button, my thoughts moved to Nina again. Surely Victor would want an update on what was going on with her, if the cops had seen her yet.

  What would I tell him? That the cops not only believed Nina was innocent, but that maybe I had only imagined Nina staring at Emma and me like she’d wanted to kill us? That maybe I’d jumped to conclusion about her being the killer? I didn’t feel like doing that. I preferred having something more substantial to offer my uncle. Something new that didn’t make me come across as such a wishy-washy pansy. I could imagine the way Victor would look at me otherwise, like I was an immature, reactive teenager all over again.

  Victor’s response arrived in my phone a few minutes later, letting me know he would love to come with me to the Lakers’ game.

  That was it. I better find out more about the situation with Nina before I faced my uncle this weekend. Find out whether it had all just been a chain reaction of misunderstandings.

  Nina

  I froze when I discovered Dylan standing outside my apartment door. I had just been to a movie with Ricki and it was eleven p.m. It was the first time since this past Sunday when that detective had come to my house, asking me all those terrible questions, that I’d been able to pull myself together enough to leave my house. It had taken me days to feel somewhat normal again, to convince myself that I couldn’t have done anything to that girl, no matter what Dylan believed. I had been drunk and furious, yes, but I hadn’t actually murdered someone. I had even called in sick to work the following day I’d felt so bad, something I had never done before.

  Hair slicked back, Dylan was wearing a blue-gray suit and a serious expression, looking very much like the corporate lawyer that he was. I glared at him. What the hell does he want? Wasn’t it enough that he’d sent the police after me?

  “I realize you can’t be very happy to see me,” he said before I got a chance to ask him either of those questions. “But I really have to talk to you. How are you?”

  The earnestness in his voice combined with the surprising statements took the edge off my anger.

  I walked up beside him and unlocked my front door. “I’ve been better.”

  “Me, too. Definitely been a lot better.”

  Holding onto the door, I took a closer look at him. He wasn’t quite as polished as I’d first assumed. There was stubble on his cheeks and the beginning of bags under his eyes. Actually, I realized, he looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept in forever and the whole world’s problems rested on his shoulders. Not unlike how I’d been feeling lately.

  I held the door open for him to enter, not able to stay mad at him any longer. “Wanna come in?” I swallowed the words That is, if you dare. I might try to kill you, you know that wanted to roll off my tongue. This was not the time to be cute.

  Without a word, he walked into the apartment and I followed. It was dark and quiet in the living room, suggesting that Lorna was either not at home or in her room. Because no light slipped out from under her bedroom door, I was pretty sure she was out. I flipped on the light and offered Dylan to take a seat on the couch. He sat on the edge of it, looking uncomfortable.

  “Can I get you something?” I asked. I had decided to be nice and give him a chance to explain himself. See what it was he wanted to discuss so badly he’d come to my house despite thinking I was a murderer. “Something to drink? I have bottled water, Diet Coke. Milk, if you like that. But no cookies. Ate them all, unfortunately.” I gave him a half smile.

  Dylan held up a hand. “Thanks, I’m fine. I just wanted to come by and talk to you a little. Thanks for letting me come in. I won’t be long. I realize it’s late.”

  “Not that late for me. I don’t ever go to bed before one o’clock.”

  “Oh. I guess I don’t go to bed very early either.”

  Our eyes locked and I felt that same almost painfully strong pull toward the man who sat on my couch edge. Exhausted or not, he was still incredibly handsome. In fact, I thought the weariness made him even sexier. Against my will, a series of electric pulses rushed up the insides of my thighs, colliding in my erotic center.

  I bit my lip to stop the inexplicable moan that wanted to come out of me suddenly. Oh, God, this was not what I needed right n
ow…

  He must have felt what I was feeling because suddenly he stood, and in two long strides he was before me, cupping my head, and kissed me hard.

  My mind urged me to resist him, but my body didn’t care; it wanted his too much. I slid my arms around his neck and squeezed him close, letting him explore my mouth with his hungry tongue. I was grateful he was holding me so tightly because his deep kisses were literally melting me, turning me into a puddle, and I barely had the strength in my arms to hang onto him. Again, he must have sensed my reaction to him because his arms supported my back, stopped me from falling. Then his hands began slipping down to my behind. Cupping my jean-clad buttocks, he lifted me up. Automatically, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  Together, we moved toward my bedroom. I wasn’t sure how Dylan managed to open the door with such ease as he kissed me with such exquisite fervor and precision, igniting every nerve ending in my body to the point I thought I might come right then, nor did I really care. All that mattered was that he was here with me again, doing what he was doing to me so well. He placed me on the bed and, reluctantly, I let his lips leave mine as we tore off each other’s clothes. Before I knew it, he was inside me. Looking into my eyes, his own dark with desire, he began moving his hips back and forth. He pumped into me first slowly, then faster, yet faster until I came hard, my body rolling through a blitz of electric waves so intense I felt like I was flying. Seconds later, he pulled out and buried his face in the crook of my neck as he voiced his pleasure in loud moans, riding out his own release.

  He remained lying on top of me, breathing against the sensitive skin on my neck. I liked the way his big body weighed heavily on mine and ran my fingers slowly through his thick hair that was stiff from hair gel.

  “That feels good,” he mumbled into my skin.

  “Oh, yeah?” I said, staring up into my ceiling.

  “Yeah.” Silence followed during which I thought of nothing except for how good it felt to have him back in my arms. Only then did I realize just how much I had missed him, how much my body craved his, needed his.

  He pushed himself up onto his elbows and faced me.

  “Why did you try to push me off that cliff, Nina?”

  I froze, the pleasurable moment shattered. Well, I might as well tell him the truth, as lame as it was. Tell him again.

  “You scared me.”

  “How? Can you elaborate a little?”

  I frowned at him. “I told you exactly how in the email. You read it, right?”

  “No. You actually sent me an email?” His eyes lit up and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I never got an email from you.”

  “Well, I sent it the day after. I’ll show you. It’s among my sent emails.” I tried to sit up.

  He stopped me. “Stay. I believe you. But I still never got it.”

  “Really? Did you check your spam email?”

  “Yeah. A lot. I was so hoping for an email from you.”

  “That’s so weird. Because it didn’t come back to me, so it must’ve been delivered.”

  “Did you check your spam email to see if it ended up there?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean ‘how long’?”

  “For how many days did you check your spam email to see if it came back?”

  “I can’t remember. Probably only that evening and the next day. They always bounce back quickly if they’re not delivered. Like a couple hours later.”

  “Well, it must’ve taken longer this time.” Dylan exhaled. “You don’t know how I was hoping for one from you telling me what the hell happened up on that cliff! What did it say?”

  “A lot of things. But mostly I tried to explain how I really thought you were about to kill me right after you pulled me to my feet. You know, after I blew you… I felt like I was suffocating and had to get you away from me.” I sighed deeply. “That’s why I shoved you like that… Honestly, it was just a reflex. I wasn’t thinking, only reacting to the way you looked.”

  Dylan knitted his eyebrows. “The way I looked? How did I look?”

  “Like you wanted to see me dead.”

  Dylan rolled off me, ending up sideways. He propped up his head on his hand. “I was having an orgasm. Are you saying I look like I want to kill you when I’m coming?”

  I laughed without joy. “I suppose you do.”

  “Wow…” Dylan ran his free hand over his face. “I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. That just sounds so totally… goofy. Like it’s part of an SNL skit. A bad one.” He gazed at me for a moment. “Was that the reason you left my apartment that first time, too? Because I looked like I wanted to kill you when I came?”

  “It was similar. But up there on the cliff, it was much stronger. Much, much stronger.”

  “Huh.” Dylan screwed up his face, looking like he was deeply considering this.

  “What are you thinking?” I said when I felt he’d thought about it enough. “That I need to be put in a mental institution?”

  His eyes found mine again. “Do you want to know the honest answer to that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Even though I’d asked for the truth, his answer hurt. But I forced back the tears that burned the back of my eyelids.

  Dylan’s face turned serious. “Nina, did you kill Emma?”

  I gasped at his direct question. “What? No, of course I didn’t kill her! Why would I want to kill her?” But as the words were coming out of my mouth, I could think of a few reasons I had wanted to kill Emma that night. Because Dylan was holding her close, stroking her hair. Because she was so very pretty and reminded me of high school when all guys had shunned me. Because she had reminded me of one of the leaders of the basketball team that had terrorized me and Hannah.

  But none of that mattered, because I had not killed Emma. I was not a murderer!

  Again, Dylan seemed lost in thoughts, staring beyond me at nothing in particular. At least, it seemed like nothing in particular.

  Dylan

  The handbag that had hung across Nina’s body when I had spotted her at the club lay on her floor, among scattered clothes and shoes. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It was definitely the same handbag. A very distinct purse, it was black, heart-shaped and made out of some glittery material, with a chain shoulder strap. The strap was broken in two.

  A giant cold hand squeezed my heart. Oh, God, she’s lying. Why else was that strap broken? The police had even said they believed the strap used to strangle Emma had been something chain-like.

  Nina turned her head to see what had caught my attention and she stiffened beside me. Yes, she is definitely lying, I thought. I felt sick suddenly.

  “It’s the bag you had on you that night, isn’t it?” I said, my voice toneless.

  “Yes.” Her response came out in a barely audible whisper. For a long moment, it was so quiet I heard someone walking right below Nina’s bedroom window despite that it was closed. The air in the room was filled with intense pressure, like the seconds before a downpour. I found myself not daring to breathe. Suddenly, Nina buried her face in her hands. Her body began to tremble and it didn’t take long before whimpers escaped her.

  I felt like crying myself. Oh, God, so she had actually killed Emma. But no tears formed in my eyes, only my chest became tight, making it hard to breathe now that I finally let myself.

  I considered the fact that I had just had sex with a murderer. What did that make me? Not a collaborator precisely, but there must be some term to describe what I was.

  Still, not even this macabre realization could make me move away from her, stand up and leave like I thought I ought to do. It was as if I had become one with the mattress I lay on, one with the blubbering girl beside me, destined to remain there forever. I noticed then that Nina was trying to say something.

  “I… I…” came from between her fingers.

  I waited patiently for her to get
out what she was trying to say.

  “I… I don’t… know.” Her crying jags renewed in force after those words.

  Gently, I removed her hands from her face. She sniffled, gasping for breath. Her skin looked blotchy red and swollen in the moon light that entered through the bedroom window.

  “Calm down,” I said. “Take a deep breath. What is it that you don’t know?”

  My demeanor must have a soothing effect on her because she did calm down. After a couple of deep inhalations, she cleared her voice. “If I killed her. I don’t know if I killed her. I don’t think I did, but I honestly don’t know. I can’t remember anything that happened after I bumped into her.”

  I stared at the trembling girl. Well, that wasn’t exactly the answer I’d expected to hear. Why had I jumped to conclusion like that? A broken strap wasn’t enough evidence; anything could have snapped it in two. Someone could easily have gotten caught in it as Nina pushed herself through the masses at the club. Buttons in my own shirt had caught in some girl’s hair on my way over to the bar, I remembered then.

  But what was she talking about? Bumping into who?

  “Who did you bump into?” I said.

  “Emma. When I was trying to get some fresh air, she was suddenly standing in my way and I walked right into her. Well, at least I think it was she… It looked just like her. But I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

  “Stay right there,” I said. With one giant step, I’d left Nina’s bed and was walking toward the living room. As I reached the bedroom door, I stopped and turned to her.

  “Are we alone?”

  “Yeah…”

  I opened the door carefully and peeked out into the living room to make sure. Then I walked to the bathroom where I got a bunch of toilet paper and soaked a towel in ice cold water. I brought it all back to Nina, who was sitting up and leaning against the wall now, her body partly hidden under the covers. She had switched on the lamp on the nightstand. She glanced at me with red-rimmed eyes.