supply truck. Men wearing windbreakers with the word SECURITY across the back muttered into walkie-talkies. Caterers in black pants and white shirts and black ties unloaded cases of wine.
âWhen can I see Leo?â Susan asked.
They had reached the guesthouse. The entry was an enormous arched oak door, framed with stone. Wrought-iron lamps hung on either side of the door under gargoyles that had been carved into the stone. It all seemed a little ostentatious for a guesthouse, even an obnoxious one.
Cooper turned the knob and went inside and Susan scuttled in after him. The door opened into a cavernous room with a half-timber-and-stucco ceiling and walls paneled with gleaming dark wood. Arched leaded glass windows looked out on the lake. Twilight was giving way to bona fide evening. Susan could see the lights of the houses along the shore. The lake was black and empty, like a patch of starless sky.
âYou were right about her size,â she heard Cooper say.
Susan redirected her attention inside the room. It was the living room, or parlor, or whatever the very wealthy called places where they came together and drank sherry after eating escargot. The furniture was all dark wood and worn velvet and cracked leather. Oriental rugs blanketed the floor at carefully quirky angles. Antique books lined the built-in shelves. A young woman with long wavy dark hair rose from a chair and walked toward Susan. She paused at a portable garment rack, on which several evening gowns hung, and pulled one from its hanger. Susan saw the professional-looking makeup box on the coffee tableâa tackle box full of blush and oily sticks of foundation. The woman strolling toward her with the gown looked familiar. She was tall and fit, in her early twenties but with the effortless confidence of someone older. Her black pants and black T-shirt were nondescript, but still showed off her curves. Her makeup was natural, her hair was loose, but there was something about the way she movedâshe had the self-possession of someone used to people watching her. Maybe it was the way she flipped her hair, or the sway of her hipsâbut something clicked. Susan recognized her. And as soon as she did, Susan felt her cheeks burn. She was the stripper from the night before, the one who had given Archie a lap dance.
The hussy.
Susan had tried not to wonder what had gone on in that room. What, exactly, the woman had done to get Archie off, and if heâd liked it. Susan had tried, but she couldnât get it out of her head. Archie had seen this woman almost naked. She had rubbed herself against him. Had he put his hands on her? Had Leo?
Susan took a long breath, willed her face to cool, and smiled.
The hussy stuck her hand out and smiled back. âHi,â she said. âIâm Star.â
Â
CHAPTER
10
Â
A valet had taken Archieâs city-issued Taurus. He often felt the need to apologize when valets took his car. They always looked so disappointed. He wanted to explain that it wasnât his car; that it belonged to the cityâbut the truth was, if he ever bought his own car, heâd probably end up with something just as boring.
The invitation had gotten him over the bridge.
Now a thick-necked man wearing a dark suit and an earpiece looked Archie up and down. He had a broad chest and deep-set, watchful eyes, and his hair was shaved down to a stiff bristle. He looked like a copâthough Archie didnât recognize himâor maybe ex-military. âName,â he demanded.
âArchie Sheridan,â Archie said.
Archie produced the invitation Sanchez had given him but the man waved it away, and instead scanned a printed list he had on a clipboard. Archie could see the bulge under his suit where he was wearing a gun. That kind of thing could be hidden, but he wasnât trying. âI donât see you,â the man said. Archie saw his body language shift. He straightened up, his chest expanded. He
âWhen can I see Leo?â Susan asked.
They had reached the guesthouse. The entry was an enormous arched oak door, framed with stone. Wrought-iron lamps hung on either side of the door under gargoyles that had been carved into the stone. It all seemed a little ostentatious for a guesthouse, even an obnoxious one.
Cooper turned the knob and went inside and Susan scuttled in after him. The door opened into a cavernous room with a half-timber-and-stucco ceiling and walls paneled with gleaming dark wood. Arched leaded glass windows looked out on the lake. Twilight was giving way to bona fide evening. Susan could see the lights of the houses along the shore. The lake was black and empty, like a patch of starless sky.
âYou were right about her size,â she heard Cooper say.
Susan redirected her attention inside the room. It was the living room, or parlor, or whatever the very wealthy called places where they came together and drank sherry after eating escargot. The furniture was all dark wood and worn velvet and cracked leather. Oriental rugs blanketed the floor at carefully quirky angles. Antique books lined the built-in shelves. A young woman with long wavy dark hair rose from a chair and walked toward Susan. She paused at a portable garment rack, on which several evening gowns hung, and pulled one from its hanger. Susan saw the professional-looking makeup box on the coffee tableâa tackle box full of blush and oily sticks of foundation. The woman strolling toward her with the gown looked familiar. She was tall and fit, in her early twenties but with the effortless confidence of someone older. Her black pants and black T-shirt were nondescript, but still showed off her curves. Her makeup was natural, her hair was loose, but there was something about the way she movedâshe had the self-possession of someone used to people watching her. Maybe it was the way she flipped her hair, or the sway of her hipsâbut something clicked. Susan recognized her. And as soon as she did, Susan felt her cheeks burn. She was the stripper from the night before, the one who had given Archie a lap dance.
The hussy.
Susan had tried not to wonder what had gone on in that room. What, exactly, the woman had done to get Archie off, and if heâd liked it. Susan had tried, but she couldnât get it out of her head. Archie had seen this woman almost naked. She had rubbed herself against him. Had he put his hands on her? Had Leo?
Susan took a long breath, willed her face to cool, and smiled.
The hussy stuck her hand out and smiled back. âHi,â she said. âIâm Star.â
Â
CHAPTER
10
Â
A valet had taken Archieâs city-issued Taurus. He often felt the need to apologize when valets took his car. They always looked so disappointed. He wanted to explain that it wasnât his car; that it belonged to the cityâbut the truth was, if he ever bought his own car, heâd probably end up with something just as boring.
The invitation had gotten him over the bridge.
Now a thick-necked man wearing a dark suit and an earpiece looked Archie up and down. He had a broad chest and deep-set, watchful eyes, and his hair was shaved down to a stiff bristle. He looked like a copâthough Archie didnât recognize himâor maybe ex-military. âName,â he demanded.
âArchie Sheridan,â Archie said.
Archie produced the invitation Sanchez had given him but the man waved it away, and instead scanned a printed list he had on a clipboard. Archie could see the bulge under his suit where he was wearing a gun. That kind of thing could be hidden, but he wasnât trying. âI donât see you,â the man said. Archie saw his body language shift. He straightened up, his chest expanded. He
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