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“This still sounds like a sex thing.”
I snorted. “Notthose kindsof pics and videos.”
“Normal photography with all parties keeping their clothes on and their hands to themselves?”
“Yes.”
“Even so, you said yes to this creep?”
“Not a creep.” Jerk? Absolutely. But I kept that bit to myself. “You know that quarter life crisis I may or may not have mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“He’s the fix.”
She slouched down a little farther, her expression drooping along with it. “This is a bad idea. You can still back out, right? When are you supposed to do this first shoot?”
I grinned at her. “Right now. Surprise! I stashed my ring light and tripod in your trunk.”
“I know it’s impossible to talk you out of anything, but you can’t go to his sexy murder dungeon alone.”
I grinned at her harder.
She deflated so hard on her next exhale that I was pretty sure she’d soon be one with the floor.
“That’s why you’re here,” she said. “So I don’t worry, and I can come along and judge this guy and the situation for myself.”
“If you don’t want to go, I’ll call Juno. She might be free. And if not, I’m sure Chester is. That dude never does anything except hang around at Juno’s to help her film. He might not be a real person. Maybe he’s her shadow instead.”
She popped back upright. “I’ll go.”
I wrapped my arms around my bestie and gave her a squeeze. “This is going to be great.”
She pressed her lips together in a face that was almost a smile, made a noncommittal noise that almost sounded like agreement, and nodded.
Best friend backup acquired, woot!
We used the GPS to take us to the address Gabriel had texted. Traffic made the drive take longer than it should have. Then, we got stuck in front of a fancy shmancy gate.
Morgan slowed the car to a stop, and we both took in the scenery outside of the car. Spotlights lit the high walls andlowest branches of the towering trees behind them. Still, there really wasn’t much to see.
“Running Man liveshere?”Morgan asked.
“Apparently.”
“Whoisthis guy?”
A man in a security suit knocked on Morgan’s window. She jumped, then rolled it down. Maybe it wasn’t just that the two of us were on different wavelengths, maybe she was extra jumpy tonight for some reason.
“Hi,” I said to the security man. “I’m Layana Hartley. We’re here to see Gabriel Stryker.”
“Welcome, Ms. Hartley. Mr. Stryker is expecting you,” the guard said.
He returned to his booth and opened the gates for us.
Morgan didn’t start driving. Instead she turned her whole body toward me. “Your Running Man isGabriel Stryker?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you know him?” It made sense, I guessed. Rich dudes probably loved the theater, so she could have seen him there sipping a tiny cup of tea with his pinky up. Also, Morgan’s fiancé was a billionaire. They probably hung out at billionaire parties, scowling down at all of us peons as they plotted world domination. “Do you know him from work or social stuff? Fancy billionaire sex clubs?”
