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When I pulled up to my little house, Ria’s beat up van was parked in the drive. Which was good. That meant she hadn’t slept in it.
My address was where her ID said she lived, but she danced at a club, so her hours weren’t consistent. She usually stopped by in the mornings when her shift ended. Sometimes, she slept in the guest bed. Others, she just got a shower and left. And—occasionally—she’d be gone for days on end. Then I’d spend that time in a frenzy as I tried to track her down.
So I was always glad when I saw her car in the drive.
Locking my car doors, I headed up the stairs and into the foyer. I glanced into the living room, expecting Ria to be sprawled out on the couch, but only seeing a pile of linen. Heading for the kitchen at the end of the hall, I called out for her, but the drizzle of the shower from the bathroom to my right greeted me.
I dropped my purse on the counter, sighed at the mess of ramen noodles and dirty pot on the stove, and tucked my hair into a bun.
Once I’d wiped everything down, I washed my face in the sink. My skin wouldn’t thank me for it, but I doubted yesterday’s makeup was doing me any favors either.
Just as I dried my cheeks with a paper towel, the bathroom door opened. “Oh, hey, sissy. Were you on a run?”
I turned and met Ria’s gaze. She looked good today. The sweet vanilla scent of my lotion wafted from her body, and her dark hair dangled to my pink sweater that hung on her shoulders. Her pupils in her crystal blue eyes were pin pricks, but her light skin wasn’t particularly pale. She was high, but not completely strung out.
Without her makeup, she always reminded me of Mom. We both had her blue eyes, but she got Mom’s porcelain skin, and I got Dad’s red hair and freckles. She had Mom’s little button nose and tiny stature. I got Dad’s giant height.
Despite how good she looked, the ‘hey, sissy,’ and sweet tone was usually signal that I was about to be mad. “What’d you do?”
Cheeks reddening, playful smile lifting her lips, she said, “I’ll fix it.”
I put my hands on my hips, arching a brow.
“The door was locked, and I couldn’t find my key, so I tried to pick it, and…” She scratched her head. “I’ll run to the store and get you a new one. I was just waiting for you to get here so I didn’t leave the house unlocked.”
A breath of relief left me. Just a doorknob. That was a quicker fix than a broken window. “Do you have the money?”
“I’ll get it taken care of.” She jumped onto the countertop and kicked her legs back and forth. “Don’t worry about it.”
In other words, her plan was to go to the hardware store, toss it in her purse, and hope no one noticed. She was already on probation, so that wasn’t happening.
“It’s alright. I need to run to the store anyway. Do you have plans? Or can you stay here ‘til I get back?”
“No plans.” She grabbed a half-eaten apple from the counter—one I assumed she’d started before her shower—and took a bite. “But did you find anything about Misty?”
“Kinda.” I hoisted myself onto the kitchen island across from her and relayed what I’d gathered last night. “You’re sure she isn’t crashing with a friend somewhere?”
“If she was, she’d check in,” Ria said. “We always check in.”
Chewing my lip, I gave a nod. “I’ll go back to Spades tomorrow after work. There’s got to be something I’m missing.”
“Maybe I’ll come too.” She tossed her apple core to the garbage can in the corner, but it hit the frame and fell to the floor. “Oh, you know what we should do? Cast a memory spell. You said she got out of that guy’s car. If you remember the exact spot, we could get an idea of what happened after that.”
Jumping to the hardwoods, I started to the apple core. The spell was a good idea. Casting it would be like giving us an instant replay of what had happened for the last few weeks. It was something like a supernatural surveillance. “That’s not a bad idea. I don’t think I have the ingredients though. I’ll have to run down to—”
Her gasp cut me off.
I shot up with wide eyes. Hers were cemented to my neck, big smile edging up her lips. “What is—”
“You little hoe. I told you the dress was a good idea.” She pointed to the side of my throat. “Who’d you fuck last night?”
Oh. A hickey. I made a mental note to dab it with some concealer.
I tugged my ponytail over my shoulder to cover it. “None of your business.”
“Aw, c’mon, I’d tell you.”
“Don’t I know.”
