Page 84 of Missing White Woman

And once again I was surprised. Even felt bad about stereotyping her.

“You really put together a great event to honor Janelle’s life,” Adore said.

She was right.

An older couple was coming toward us. They both stopped their chitchat when they saw Billie. I highly doubted they recognized her—not exactly her target audience—but they still looked at her like they knew she had to be someone. She must’ve noticed too because she spoke. “Evening. Hope you both had a great night.”

They smiled, happy to be acknowledged, still beaming as they passed by Adore and me without so much as a glance.

The hallway seemed to stretch forever, with only the occasional door to break up the monotony. I’d assumed Billie would take us to her room. Instead, we were clearly in a conference area.

“Breanna, you a coffee person?”

I jumped at my name, even though I’d heard Billie say it a million times at this point. This time was nicer, curious. Adore’s eyes bore into me, willing me to channel Perky Black Girl—the woman I used to be when Adore and I had first met. The one who laughed and made friends easily and wasn’t afraid to share things about herself.

“Yes.” I smiled.

“Decaf?”

“No. What would be the point?”

She laughed. “Exactly. I also don’t get the folks who just take it black.”

Billie slowed down so the three of us could walk in a line like grade school best friends.

“Me neither,” I said. “Four sugars. If I don’t get a jolt from the coffee, I’m gonna hedge my bets. Get one from the sugar.”

“My kind of girl. But then my mom used to feed me Pixy Stix before I did pageants as a kid.”

“I bet you always won,” I said. It explained the charm.

“Yes, except that one time I lost to Jennifer Woods. That bitch.” But she laughed when she said it. She looked me over again. Up and down. But when her eyes came back up, they had kindness in them.

“How are you holding up?” Said like she meant it. Said like she hadn’t played a part in making my life hell.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Adore’s arm brushed against mine purposefully.

Perky Black Girl.

“I’ve been better,” I said. “I miss Ty. He was an amazing person. Doesn’t deserve any of this.” I caught myself. “Didn’t deserve any of it.”

I met her eyes. And she stopped. This time she opened her mouth like she was going to be honest for once.

“Here we are.” Billie motioned at some random door I didn’t even realize was there. “Like I said, I already got us food, but I’m happy to order anything else you want. I think we have an hour before the kitchen closes. It’s my treat. I really appreciate you both coming out so late.”

Adore jumped in. “We appreciate you taking the time to talk to me as well. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course,” Billie said.

She opened the door to a medium-sized conference room complete with a standard-issue deep brown table for eight. I was only two steps in when I saw the ring light and the cell phone set up facing the far wall. Billie glanced back, smiling all innocent-like. “Figured we could go Live here.”

@ABrushWithBillie TikTok

531 Following 3.6M Followers 11.7M Likes

Billie Regan sits in front of the camera. Behind her isn’t her usual setup but a large television and some generic artwork. She smiles, fresh-faced and glowing. Her blond hair’s in two space buns, and she wears a pink T-shirt she’s tied in the back to make more formfitting. “Hey, Billie Bunch. I’m Billie. This is my channel and, yes, I’m uploading this video late AF, but, you all, look at this view.”

She flips the camera so we’re staring at downtown Manhattan through a window. It’s an unobstructed view of One World Trade Center surrounded by smaller skyscrapers, all lit against the night.