Mel blinks. “I was worried, that’s all.”
“So don’t be.” Elise pushes past her to head back inside the bar. The blast of music swallows her up, and I make to follow but Mel moves to block my path.
“Why do you have to keep doing this?” She glares at me fiercely.
I step back. “What?”
“Dragging her off somewhere, always coming between us.” Mel’s eyes are wide and almost tearful in the dim light, and her words pour out in a furious torrent. “I know you hate me, but she’s my friend too, and you won’t let her spend any time with me at all.”
“Let her?” I repeat slowly, caught there in the doorway. I don’t have space for Mel’s desperate insecurities, not after days of her sighing and whining and moaning, tagging along in the background for everything. “For f**k’s sake, since when does Elise do anything she doesn’t want to do?” I demand, “If she’s not hanging out with you anymore, that’s her choice. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
Mel’s mouth drops open. “She would never . . .” she manages, as she starts to cry. “We were friends first! Until you stole her from me. Everything was great until you came along—”
“What are we, stuck in grade school?” I cut her off, my anger blazing now—at her or myself, I’m not sure. I just know that Mel is pouring all her fear and insecurity out onto the dark asphalt in front of me, when I’ve fought so hard to keep mine hidden. This could be me, I realize in a terrible flash. This could be my future. Without Elise: abandoned and alone. “Grow up. It’s not finder’s keepers, okay?” I tell her, my voice ringing out, harsh. “Maybe if you were less of a whiny, needy brat, she’d still want you around.”
Mel recoils, as if I’d hit her. “You’re such a bitch!” she cries.
“Hey, those are Elise’s words, not mine. You think she’s your bestie?” I add. “You should hear what she says when you’re not around. ‘Mel’s such a baby,’ ” I mimic, “ ‘She’s, like, obsessed with me.’ ”
“Stop it!” Mel yells, her mascara running in two pathetic streams down her cheeks. But I can’t, not with the anger flooding hot in my veins.
“She makes fun of you, how clingy you are,” I continue, relentless. “She doesn’t get why you don’t just take the hint and leave us alone for good.”
“You’re lying.” Mel sobs.
“I’m not. She didn’t even want you coming on vacation,” I tell her, “I was the one who said to invite you. I figured we could put up with you for another few months, until graduation, but God, look at you—you don’t know when to give it a break!”
Mel gives another sob, then whirls around and flees. I watch her hurry down the street, unsteady in high heels, and feel a sobering wash of shame. I shouldn’t have done that, I know it right away. I shouldn’t have been so cruel, but she just kept pushing me—acting like this was all my fault. And her naked desperation . . .
I shiver, turning back to enter the bar. It’s dark and loud inside, and I fight my way through the crowd, looking for the familiar faces of our group. Elise is up by the bar, a flash of red and blond, and I duck past a group of drunken frat-boy guys, yelling along with the music.
Her back is turned when I reach her. “I told you, it was just a one-time thing,” she’s saying. She shifts, and I see the guy beside her: Niklas.
“Everything good?” I ask, positioning myself between them.
“Just peachy,” Elise says, and nods, but I see the relief in her smile.
“The lovely Anna,” Niklas drawls. He grabs my hand, kissing it before I can pull away.
“Let me buy you ladies a drink.”
“I’m good, thanks,” I reply, but Elise beams.
“A margarita for me.”
As Niklas turns to order from the dreadlocked bartender, I lean in closer to Elise. “I thought he creeped you out,” I murmur.
She laughs back. “Doesn’t mean I can’t take his drinks. What did Mel want, anyway? Don’t tell me she was calling in a Missing Persons because we were gone five minutes.”
I sigh. “She freaked out, it was a whole thing. I’ll tell you later.” I glance around. “You seen Tate anywhere?”
“Yeah, I think he was f**king some tourist up against the bathroom wall.”
“Elise!”
“What?” She grins. “I’m just messing with you. I’m sure he’s sitting quietly in a corner, gazing at photos of you.”
I shove her lightly. “Don’t say shit like that, okay?”
“Why? Worried Prince Charming’s going to run around on you?” Elise’s tone is light, but I swear I see something flicker in her expression. Or maybe that’s just the five shots still spinning in my system, and the crash of the electronic dance beats. I shake my doubts away.
“No, of course not. I trust him,” I reply forcefully, but I can’t help adding, “He knows it would break my heart.”
Elise doesn’t flinch, just pulls me into a hug. “And then I would have to break his skull.” She laughs.
I rest my cheek against her hair for a moment, calmed. Behind her back, Niklas is claiming a margarita from the bartender, a vast, frothy concoction with fruit and a tiny umbrella balanced on the lip of the glass. I smile to myself for a moment—for all her bad-girl posturing, Elise will always choose the fruity, girly drink over a straight whiskey shooter—and then I catch a glimpse of something, out of the corner of my tired eyes. Niklas’s hand, passing over the drink. A flash of reflection, as if from glass, or a vial. And then it’s gone, back in his pocket again, and he’s turning to hand Elise the drink with a bland smile.
“Ready to get this party started for real?” he asks.
Elise takes the glass and raises it to her lips.
THE TRIAL
“So you saw the victim at the bar, the night before she was killed, isn’t that right, Mr. van Oaten? Before the group left, around two a.m.?”
“Yes.”
“What was the nature of your interaction?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What did you do?” Gates clarifies, pacing in front of the witness stand. “You fought, did you not?”
“No.” Niklas slouches back, his arms folded. He looks utterly at ease, as if he’s relaxing in front of the TV, not in the middle of a tense and crowded courtroom.