Page 18 of Mr. Match

But it’s a lie and she knows it. If she told me I’d never stop looking for the bastard who did that to her. I’d never stop until he was dead.

I have to take a deep breath to calm the thumping inside my chest and then I press play and wait for her voice. Some kind of greeting, or explanation, or direction.

None of that ever comes. There is no smile, no tears, no emotion at all. Just her, in the bathroom, undressing, then fondling herself. Scratching at herself to make those long red marks appear on her milky-white breasts. On her ribs, across her hip. All places I’ve kissed, over, and over, and over. All places I’ve left my own marks.

And then she gets into the tub and bathes in the glow of a million flickering flames.

I am transfixed. Caught in the spell she cast on me four years ago. Lost. My finger clicks the heart button underneath her post and I start writing a comment.

“Knock, knock?”

I slam the computer closed and stare at my sister, standing at the top of the stairwell. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Not an easy thing to do.” She takes a step towards me. “Which makes me very curious what you were watching on that screen.”

“Nolan’s not coming.”

“I know. I talked to Ellie.”

“He thinks I’m using him as bait.”

“He’s a dick. But Ellie and Mac are here. And they’re all at my house right now making dinner. So let’s go. I’m fucking starving. Did you eat lunch?”

“Lunch?” My thoughts are still on Katya. That scar across her throat. There is only one explanation for it. It was a threat. It’s too clean to be an attack.

“Yeah, you know, that meal between breakfast and dinner? Aren’t you hungry? You’ve been locked up here all damn day.”

“I wanted to get the deletes done,” I say, pointing to the empty folder on my desk. “So no time.”

“OK,” Ariel says. “Great.” And then we just stare at each other for a moment. “What?”

I shake myself out of it and smile. “Nothing. Yeah, I’m starving. What are you guys making?”

“Victoria has some Argentinean meal—”

“Aw, fuck.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Ariel laughs. “Cindy says it smells great and she’s picky. So just relax. You look tense. Are you tense?”

“No,” I say, shrugging. “Not at all. Things are fine. Great, even. The website is having a great month.”

“Hey,” Ariel says, grabbing my shoulder as I try to pass her to go down the stairs. “If something was happening”—she looks me dead in the eyes—“you’d tell me, right?”

“Of course,” I say, smiling in that charming way I like to use against people. “You’re my best and favorite sister. So of course I’d tell you.”

She stares at me a little longer than necessary, which says, without saying, that I’m a bullshitting liar. But she nods and drops it. “OK. Then let’s go eat.”

We hop down the stairs, both pairs of boots clunking on the old wood, and head to the back door once we’re on the first floor. “You wanna ride bitch tonight? Or you gonna walk home?”

She always walks to work. She only lives a few blocks down on Mountain Avenue. Hell, I only live a few blocks down Jefferson in the other direction, but I ride the bike every day. Fuck that walking shit.

“Sure,” Ariel says, smiling at me, making her blue eyes bright in the glow of the yellow-colored streetlamp. “I’ll be your bitch tonight. Why not?”

I shake my head at her. I do trust Ariel to have my back. I should tell her about Katya. Not that she’s ever known anything about us, what we had in the past. But Ariel would not tell anyone. Especially Nolan Delaney.

I don’t though. I don’t say shit. I just hand her my spare helmet, put on mine, and swing my leg over the seat. I kick the starter and walk the bike backwards a little before Ariel settles in behind me.

I take off down the alley, looking up at the condos two buildings down.