Page 93 of Gilt

Reaching out, he cups the side of my face with his palm. “You’re a firecracker, Emma Southerly.”

I smile sweetly. Just wait until he sees me go off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“I’m famous for buying toilet paper now,” Josie announces as she slings her purse onto a chair in the corner. “Did you see?”

I glance up from my laptop and grimace. She’s holding the bag from Weckman’s that The Dealer snapped her with earlier. “I saw.”

The real question is whether or not she’s thought about what that means. Josie crosses to her dresser and pulls out an oversized t-shirt.

“My boobs are killing me.” She strips off her top and bra and pulls the comfy shirt on. “I’m just glad all he caught was the Charmin and not my tampons. Paying Eve’s penance is bad enough without photographic evidence.”

I close the lid of my computer and search for the right way to bring this up. “So the picture was taken this afternoon?”

“There’s the proof.” She points to the t.p. sticking out of the plastic bag.

“Did you see anyone? Taking your picture, I mean?” I force myself to ask the hard question.

“No.” She lies next to me on the bed and stares up at her bedroom ceiling. I scoot down and join her. Dozens of plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars are still stuck overhead. “Remember when we put those up?”

“Your mom was convinced the landlord was going to kick you out,” I remember with a laugh. “What were we, ten?”

“Eleven,” Josie corrects me with a giggle. “I abided by the no posters on the wall for a whole year.”

“And then you went on a rampage, starting with those.” I grab her hand, and we look up. When we were younger, we’d lie on the floor during sleepovers, and I would stare at those stars and make wishes. Right now, I wish I still believed in their magic. “Josie, if that photo is from today, someone followed you.”

Her grip on my hand tightens as I point this out.

“I know,” she whispers. “How didn’t I notice him?”

“It’s a busy city. Whoever it is knows how to stay unseen.” I sigh. It was a long shot that she might remember catching someone with a camera, but we need a break. “Why are you so certain it’s a guy?”

“What do you mean?” Josie flips on her side, and I do the same. We stare at each other, each clutching a pillow.

“You always say him or he.”

“I guess I just assume this perv is a dude,” she says.

The whole game does have a creepy, up-skirt camera vibe. But even narrowing it down to a him, doesn’t get us any closer to discovering The Dealer’s identity.

“You know my pic wasn’t the most interesting one he posted. Did you see the other one?”

I frown. The other shot had been nonsensical at best. A cup o’ joe labeled May. “The cup of coffee? May? Maybe The Dealer is behind on posting since it’s June. “

“No!” Josie sits up and tosses the pillow to the top of the bed. “What was under the cup of coffee.”

I roll over and grab my phone from her bedside table. Opening Instagram, I scroll to the photo. “I stared at this thing forever.”

“And you didn’t notice the business card?” she asks dryly. Leaning over, she taps the screen, and I immediately spot the black card poking out from beneath the mug.

“I was looking for lipstick or a logo on the cup.” I leave out that I also studied the wood grain of the table, hoping I might recognize the coffee shop where the photo was taken. I’d been so focused on minute details the whole time I’d missed the most important element.

“What does it say?” she asks.

I raise an eyebrow. “You noticed, but you didn’t even try to read it?”

“Not all of us spent our afternoon working on our amateur sleuth badge,” she teases. “I figured we’d tackle it later.”