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By the time they were pulling into the King James Mall, both were belting out the lyrics to “Dazed and Confused.” Mike knew every verse by heart and even did a dramatic air guitar solo, which made Hanna buckle over in laughter.
The mall parking lot was packed. A Home Depot was off to their left, the Bloomingdale’s doors in the middle, and the haute section—with stores like Louis Vuitton and Jimmy Choo—was on the right. As they stepped out into the crisp night air, Hanna heard someone grunt. A man stood next to a white car in the Home Depot lot, struggling to lift a heavy barrel of what looked like propane into the trunk of his car. When he moved out of the way, she noticed the writing on the car doors. Rosewood Police Department. The guy had an angular chin and a pointy nose. A shock of dark hair stuck out from the bottom of his black wool hat.
Wilden?
Hanna watched as he lifted the second tub of propane, struggling to fit it in the trunk next to the other one. Did his house not have a normal heater? She considered waving, but then turned away. Wilden had told the press that they’d made up seeing Ian’s body in the woods. He’d turned all of Rosewood against them. Asshole.
“Come on,” she said to Mike, giving Wilden one last look. He had shut the trunk and was now holding his cell phone to his ear, his posture rigid, his shoulders square. It reminded Hanna of a time a few months ago, back when Wilden and her mom had been dating. He’d spent the night, and early in the morning, Hanna had heard whispers in the hall. When she peeked out, she saw Wilden standing in front of the hall window, looking out into the yard, his body rigid and his voice hoarse and harsh. Who the hell was he talking to? Was he sleepwalking? Hanna had slunk back to bed before Wilden noticed her.
Really, what did Hanna’s mom ever see in that guy, anyway? Wilden was cute, but not that cute. When Hanna caught him getting out of the shower all those months ago, he didn’t even look that fabulous half-naked. Not that she was into him or anything, but Hanna had a feeling lacrosse-obsessed Mike would look way hotter.
Otter, Hanna’s favorite boutique, was tucked next to Cartier and Louis Vuitton. She strode in, inhaling the Ceylon-scented Diptyque candles. Fergie was on the stereo, and racks of Catherine Malandrino, Nanette Lepore, and Moschino spread out before her. She sighed, blissful. The leather jackets were glossy and lush. The silk dresses and diaphanous, oversize scarves looked spun from gold. Sasha, one of the salesgirls, noticed Hanna and waved. Hanna was one of Otter’s best customers.
Hanna immediately selected a few dresses, enjoying the noise the wooden hangers made when they clonked together. “Would you like me to put those in your dressing room?” said a fake high-pitched voice. Hanna turned. Mike was standing next to her. “I’ve already started a room for you with some of my favorite selections,” he added.
Hanna stepped back. “You picked things out for me?” This she had to see. She marched to the only dressing room that had its velvet curtain tied to the side. A few things hung on the knob next to the mirror. First was a pair of high-waisted, tight black leather pants. Then there was a slinky silver tunic with a deep V in the front and big, gaping side vents. Behind that were three string bikinis with Wonderbra tops and thong bottoms.
Hanna turned to Mike and rolled her eyes. “Nice try, but hell has to freeze over before you get me into any of that stuff.” She eyed the leather pants again. Interestingly, Mike thought she was a size zero.
Mike’s expression wilted. “You won’t even try on the bikinis?”
“Not for you,” Hanna teased. “You’ll have to use your imagination.” Whipping the curtain closed, she couldn’t help but smile. Mike deserved a few points for being so creative.
She put her plum-colored suede satchel on the little leather footstool and smoothed out her piece of the Time Capsule flag, which she’d wrapped around the strap. After some consideration, Hanna had decided to decorate the piece in homage to Ali, incorporating Ali’s original designs from sixth grade. The Chanel logo was next to the manga frog. A field hockey girl swatted a ball into the Louis Vuitton initials. Hanna was quite pleased with the end result.
Turning, she peeled off her sweater, unhooked her bra, and unzipped her pants and kicked them off. Just as she was reaching for the first dress, the dressing room curtain parted. Mike poked his head in.
Hanna let out a yelp and covered up her boobs. “What the hell?” she squealed.
“Oops!” Mike brayed. “Shit. Sorry, Hanna. I thought this was the bathroom. This place is like a maze!” His eyes landed on Hanna’s cle**age. Then they moved down to her skimpy lace underwear.
“Get out!” Hanna roared, giving Mike a kick with her bare foot. A few minutes later, she emerged from the dressing room, one of the dresses draped over her arm. Mike was perched on the chaise by the three-way mirrors. He looked like a naughty puppy who’d just chewed up his owner’s Ugg slippers. “Are you mad?” he asked.
“Yes,” Hanna said frostily. Truthfully, though, she wasn’t that bothered—it was kind of flattering that Mike was that eager to see Hanna’s body. But she did want to get revenge.
She paid for her dress, and Mike asked if she wanted to get some dinner. “Not Rive Gauche,” Hanna reminded him.
“I know, I know,” Mike said. “But there’s a place that’s even better.”
He led her to Year of the Rabbit, the Chinese place near Prada. Hanna wrinkled her nose. She could practically feel her butt expanding from simply being around the oil, fat, and sauce all Chinese restaurants seemed to use in their entrees.
