Being Audrey Hepburn

“See you @ Robert’s ;)”

There was no answer. I waited some more and noticed an unread text from Jess.

“I CAN’T W8 TIL U GET BACK. CAN’T DO THIS WITHOUT U !!”

I wondered how I would pull myself away and get back to the city. I couldn’t even focus on what I should do. I decided, no matter what, to take the Jitney back in the morning. I couldn’t fail Jess. I couldn’t stand waiting at Tabitha’s either. I marched outside to find Mocha. He was about to leave on an errand and I hitched a ride.

60

Even after Mocha passed through the gates and turned down the driveway, it was a full ten minutes before we caught sight of the looming three-story Tudor-style manor. When I entered, there were two beefy security guards at the door. They nodded as though they knew who I was before I could give them my name.

I passed through doors as thick as bank vaults into the main entrance with its grand matching staircases. Following the other guests into the first-floor library, I ran into Balty and Flo. They had stopped at Robert’s on their way back to the city. They were abuzz with the news of Eva Eden’s arrival and more than happy to fill me in on the dirt.

Balty took special pleasure in dishing Eva. “Tabitha’s mother is a generous longtime charity donor to the Addiction Relief Foundation in the U.K. and the chairwoman for their fund drive,” Balty said with a smirk. “At the same time, she has a heroin habit that would kill most people.”

“You’re so unfair, Balty,” Flo said, chastising him, rolling her eyes. Flo was wearing an exquisite black sequined dress and a silver necklace that sparkled with diamonds. Everything she wore was well matched to her supersleek red hair.

“I guess you’re right,” Balty agreed, laughing. “I mean, they only found eight grams of the lovely white powder and two hundred and fifty milligrams of diazepam in her Rolls when they stopped her.” Tabitha’s alcohol problem seemed tame by comparison.

I heard a familiar dog yap and turned to see Robert holding Morris on the far side of the room chatting with Dahlia. I don’t know why it was surprising to see them talking. Perhaps it was my mood, but there seemed something sinister about those two together. What could they be plotting? And where was ZK? That’s what mattered.

I hoped to slip away u

Excusing myself from Flo’s company, I searched from library to gallery, through the walnut-paneled ballroom, asking for ZK, but nobody had seen him. The nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach was draining all the energy out of me.

I overhead someone say there were twenty-five bedrooms in Robert Francis’s mansion; I felt like I had searched half of them. The mansion was so enormous that I never doubled back on my path.

Passing through room after room, it seemed as though I’d entered a kind of Escher painting of never-ending rooms and staircases. I turned down an unfamiliar hall and noticed that the crowd had thi

“Looking for me?” I knew that voice, unfortunately.

Morris barked twice in Robert’s arm, the dog’s tiny tongue sticking out, panting.

“No, actually,” I said.

“Here, let me get you something to drink.”

“No thank you. I’d rather not,” I said, watching Morris wiggle uncomfortably in Robert’s arms.

“Of course not.” Did I detect a wounded tone in his voice? “Determined to avoid me, I suppose. Even though I’ve helped your good friend Tabitha evade arrest and scandal for the umpteenth time.”

I glowered at him silently.

“I won’t keep you,” he said, sounding resigned. “At least let me show you the best view in the house.” He led me through a doorway toward two huge bay windows.

The mansion had a view of the churning ocean unlike any I had ever seen before. The lighting from the house illuminated the dunes in sharp waves of light and dark. Chiaroscuro, I think my high school art teacher would have called it. Through the interplay of shadows I could see the Atlantic’s explosive white foam, but the windows were so thick that besides the murmurs of partiers elsewhere in the house, the wind, the ocean’s waves, and everything outside was u

I shook myself out of my daze.

“I have to go,” I said and turned to leave, but the room was dark and I wasn’t sure which way to go.

“Oh come now, Lisbeth, don’t be ridiculous.” Robert dropped Morris to the floor and closed a large door I hadn’t noticed. I felt my neck stiffen, angry to find myself at a disadvantage again.

“Really, dear, I’ve tried so hard to please you. At least you can talk to me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, steeling myself.

“What possessed you to cut your hair? I preferred it longer,” he said and moved behind me, standing close enough I could feel his breathing. I had to buy time and find an exit. “The pixie cut is too boyish for my tastes.”

Morris jumped to the footstool, and I saw in the darkness there was a bed. There were so many bedrooms in this house I hadn’t realized that we had entered one.

“As you know, I am meeting with Tabitha’s mother tonight. My sister Eva always does as I ask. Considering her relationship with the authorities and her mental outlook, she could hardly take care of herself let alone a daughter. Tabitha didn’t help her case by picking a fight in a bar over a minor. I have a legal responsibility to her recording label and her trust to retain control.” Morris yapped, panting expectantly, and I realized we were facing a mirror. “Of course you could change that,” he said. Was every one of the twenty-five bedrooms in this mansion designed for his uses? “If you agree, I’ll release Tabitha.”

“Agree to what?” I cringed as he ran his fingers through my hair.

“Lisbeth, dear, girls don’t run out on me,” he said and roughly grabbed my hair in his fist. I gasped, his strength greater than I expected.

“I’ve helped other girls like you,” he said. His other arm gathered around my waist and forcefully dragged me toward his body. As he kissed my neck, I twisted to slip away, but his grip tightened painfully in my hair. His arm was too muscular. His grasp of my hair was too firm.

I couldn’t help noticing Morris watching us in the mirror. There’s always a mirror, I thought, remembering how the mutt had dutifully jumped up on the footstool by the bed the last time, yapping at his reflection.

Robert’s hand slid upward to my breast, searching for my nipple. I squirmed and tried to twist away. He pulled me closer, grabbing my breast, and I screamed. I kicked him and felt his grip loosen. I squeezed tighter to duck out of his hold, diving forward, but he held on firmly and fell on top of me. I struggled to push him away, and the moment seemed to unwind in still frames; Robert smashing into the mirror, the hundred jigsaw pieces of glass momentarily suspended in air, Robert’s stu

We both seemed stuck there for the longest time. I closed my eyes for a second to recover and then, opening them again, noticed that behind where the mirror had been was a mounted camera inside.

“You were taping me?” Alongside the camera tripod, I spotted a box of DVDs with different labels on them. One had Tabitha’s name on it.

We both heard a sharp creaking sound and looked up. There was a long shard of the broken mirror stuck in the top of the frame, wavering suspended—until it dropped—plunging into his leg.