Page 5 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

Antoinette is looking around. ‘It’s a bit dingy.’

Dingy?

Dingy?

‘It’s the Chateau Marmont, Antoinette,’ I say. ‘It’s iconic.’

‘Beyoncé is iconic,’ Antoinette says, ‘but she is also old and in need of modernisation.’

I have no words. I am now just standing here, my jaw by my knees as she looks around the beautiful lobby like I’ve dragged her into a derelict woodshed.

She takes a big breath like she’s being very brave and moves forward, avoiding touching the furniture like it might infect her.

After we check in we make our way past the world-famous pool – which is surrounded by swimwear-clad people all pretending not to be checking each other out – towards our bungalow.

I slide the key into the lock, and as the door swings open, I feel the excitement that has been bubbling in my veins reach boiling point.

Antoinette touches my arm. ‘Kitty,’ she says in a whisper. ‘Are you short on money or something? I can cover accommodation if it’s an issue.’

While we both grew up in Chelsea, London, and are what would be called ‘trust-fund babies’, Antoinette’s family are quite a bit richer than mine. Her dad – or the man she believed to be her dad – is, was James Pemberton, one of the biggest music producers in the world. Meanwhile, my dad – our dad – owned a chain of abattoirs and meat-processing plants. A bit of an empire actually. I have money. Rather a lot of money. But Antoinette has more – ‘pedo island money’ as she once charmingly referred to it. And, since James’s death last year, she’s inherited most of it.

I ignore her and take a step inside and it is like going back in time to the 1950s. I feel like a Hollywood starlet. I take a deep breath in, wondering if some remnants of stardust are making their way into my lungs. I wish the walls could talk so they could tell me some of the no doubt insane things that have happened in this room. The parties, the secret trysts. Actually, considering what I’m planning on doing in this room, it’s a good thing the walls can’t speak. There’s a private terrace and patio just outside the huge living area. I bet that’s seen some wild times too.

I turn to Antoinette, excited, but I feel my face drop when I see her expression.

‘It might have been nice if there was a spa here,’ she says.

‘You can get treatments in the room,’ I say, ‘if it’s that important to you.’

Antoinette just shrugs and wheels her suitcase through to the bedrooms. ‘I’ll be taking the master bedroom,’ she calls through to me. ‘Seeing as how you’re making me slum it.’

I stare after her, my jaw on the floor.

I can’t believe I’m related to someone who thinks the Chateau Marmont is ‘slumming it’.

3

Bungalow Three, Chateau Marmont, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

‘So, what do you want to do first?’ Antoinette asks when she’s finished unpacking while I watched, looking on mournfully at all her clothes, wondering where mine are at this moment. I’m sitting on the sofa with my laptop open.

‘I want to find Aidan Ward,’ I say. ‘I thought we’d start by going online and checking out therapists, especially any new, British ones. I’ve already started a spreadsheet.’

Antoinette sits down next to me and peers at the Excel document I’ve got open.

‘Oh, wow,’ she says. ‘You really did.’

‘So I think the best way to do this is to make some burner accounts on Reddit and Facebook, join some local groups and ask if anyone knows of recently arrived guys. I thought you could take Reddit and I’ll do Facebook?’

Antoinette nods. ‘Makes sense,’ she says. ‘Because you’re old.’ I give her a look. ‘… -der, than me,’ she adds, quickly.

‘When we’ve got some possibilities, we’ll make appointments so we can find out if it’s Aidan Ward.’

‘Sounds good,’ Antoinette says with a yawn. ‘Don’t you think that you should go shopping first though? Unless you’re planning on wearing your plane outfit to dinner.’

I look down at the cherry-coloured cashmere Loro Piana co-ord set I’ve been wearing for at least the last eighteen hours and give it a sniff. It smells of plane-cabin air and stale sweat.

She’s got a point.