why’d you ask me to help?”
“I asked you to help me find her, not to—ugh, just forget it, Okay? Listen.” Aster faced them both. “Here’s the deal. We all want each other’s clubs. So I’m proposing we put our personal feelings aside and—”
“I don’t want your club.” Layla made her way out the door and onto a street crowded with tourists, as Aster and Tommy rushed to follow.
“You’re seriously trying to tell me you want Night for Night? You wouldn’t prefer Jewel?”
Layla stopped. “What’s the difference? A club’s a club.”
“You can’t be serious!” Aster cried, scowling at a guy wearing a Superman costume that looked ratty and decrepit under the glare of the bright summer sun. It probably smelled bad too. And yet there was no shortage of tourists willing to pay to take pictures with costume-wearing weirdos like him. Sometimes people completely boggled her brain. Layla included.
“Way to negotiate.” Tommy laughed, which only annoyed Aster more, mostly because he was right. This whole thing was a mess, and it was all her fault. Something about these two pushed all her buttons. Normally she had no problem making friends and keeping her cool.
“There’s a big difference,” Aster said, determined to rein herself in. “And Layla, you’re far more suited to Jewel.”
“And why’s that?” She folded her arms across her chest, guarding against whatever insult Aster might sling.
“Because it’s sharp, modern, and eccentric. All the things Tommy’s not, but you are.”
“Oh.” Layla seemed to visibly relax, if only a little. “So let me get this straight. Tommy wants your club, and you want my club.”
“Yes.” Aster stood uncertainly before her. Surely even Layla could see the logic in her plan.
“Well, good luck to you both.”
Layla made for her bike, as Aster hurried alongside her and Tommy stayed put. “Just give me a minute,” Aster called after her. “That’s all I ask.”
To her surprise, Layla stopped and looked pointedly at the time on her phone.
“Listen, I’m sorry for what happened earlier.” Aster fought to catch her breath, the words hurried but heartfelt. “Truly. But if you’ll just—”
“Tell me.” Layla cocked her head and narrowed her gaze, and despite the way her features sharpened, Aster was surprised to find she was actually pretty. “If you’d gotten Night for Night, would you have tried to apologize?”
Aster took a moment to answer, unsure how to play it. “Honestly?” she finally relented. “Probably not.”
Layla nodded, seemingly satisfied. “So, what’s in it for me?”
Aster studied Layla, trying to determine why she was interested in Ira’s contest. She assumed most people were after the money, but something about Layla told her it wasn’t just that. Still, money was the only thing she could think to offer. “I’ll give you my share of the first week’s marketing money.”
Layla rolled her eyes. “Please, you drive a Mercedes. A C-Class, but still a Mercedes. I don’t want your money, I want something that will truly cost you.”
Aster was shocked by the snub. A C-Class Mercedes beat a cheap bike any day, but whatever; Layla was trying to get to her and Aster wouldn’t fall for it. “Name it,” Aster said, ready for this to be over.
“I will. Just as soon as I think of something.”
Aster’s eyes widened. She couldn’t be serious, could she?
Layla paused long enough for a foreign tour group to go by, their leader excitedly pointing out all the landmarks the locals never even bothered to look at. “I’ll let you know when I decide,” she finally said.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” Aster snapped.
“That sounds more like your problem than mine.” Layla shrugged. “And don’t even think about trying to back out when payday comes around, because I will hold you to it.”
Aster gnawed the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she’d yet to cure herself of. “You’re not going to ask for the soul of my firstborn child or something, are you?”
Layla rolled her eyes. “Why would I want your illegitimate mistake?”
Aster sighed. The girl was a nightmare. Who knew what she’d demand? Well, she’d deal with it later. For now she had Night for Night, and that was all that really mattered. “Guess you’re representing Jewel,” she said.
Layla shrugged like she didn’t care either way, leaving Aster to second-guess the deal she’d just struck as she watched the other girl walk away.
“You convince her?” Tommy called, as Aster made her way back.
Aster nodded, wondering if she looked as shaken as she felt. “I feel like I just made a deal with the devil, but yeah, it’s done.”
“Hope it turns out to be worth it.” Tommy squinted against the sun, eyeing her carefully.
She shrugged, clicked her key fob, and unlocked her car. Remembering her manners, something that had been in short supply all day, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Hey, Tommy—good luck with the Vesper.”
“Good luck to you.” He grinned.
The competition had officially begun.
Layla stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel at the same moment there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Mateo offered, pausing a moment to grin appreciatively at the sight of Layla naked before heading down the hall.
She wrapped the towel around herself and pulled a comb through her hair. It looked awful, more neglected than usual, like the hair of an overstressed soccer mom who’d run out of Xanax. She should try harder. Maybe do something with the color. Though she doubted she would. It was bad enough she’d worn a pair of toe-numbing stilettos in order to look the part for the interview. If she started highlighting her hair, where would it end? Scouring Pinterest boards, looking for nail art ideas? She refused to be that girl.
Then again, Mateo had exhibited some major appreciation for the shoes. Especially when she’d kept them on well after everything else had come off. And lately, making Mateo happy went a long way toward alleviating her guilt over not telling him she was working for Ira. She wanted to. She just hadn’t found the right time. But tonight she’d tell him for sure. It was her first official day on the job, and the last thing she wanted was for Mateo to discover the truth on his own.
She rubbed some moisturizer into her skin, letting the towel slowly drop to the floor like some kind of bathroom burlesque, winking salaciously at Mateo through the mirror as he
