Page 3 of Ruthless Creatures

“That’s averystrange thing to know about me.”

“There are no secrets here, babe. We’ve been best friends since before we had pubes.”

I say drily, “How touching. I can see the Hallmark card now.”

She ignores me. “Also, I’m buying. That should appeal to your inner Scrooge.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m cheap?”

“Exhibit A: you regifted me a twenty-dollar Outback Steakhouse gift certificate for Christmas last year.”

“That was a joke!”

“Hmm.” She’s unconvinced.

“You’re supposed to regift it to someone else, I’ve told you that. It’s a thing. It’s funny.”

“Yes, if your frontal lobe was damaged in a terrible car accident, it’s funny. For the rest of us with functioning brains, it’s not.”

My sigh is big and dramatic. “Fine. This year I’ll buy you a cashmere sweater. Satisfied?”

“I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

“No. I’m not going out tonight.”

She says firmly, “I’m not letting you sit at home for another anniversary of your rehearsal dinner that never was, getting wastedon the champagne you were supposed to have at your wedding reception.”

She leaves the rest unsaid, but it hangs heavily in the air between us anyway.

Today marks five years since David went missing.

Once a person has been missing for five years in the state of California, they’re considered legally dead. Even if they’re still out there somewhere, for all intents and purposes, they’re six feet underground.

It’s a milestone I’ve been dreading.

I turn away from the window and its pretty, sunny scene.

For a moment, I think of Chris. I remember the bitterness in his voice when he said I’m living in the past… and how everyone knows it.

Everyone including me.

I say softly, “Okay. Pick me up in fifteen.”

Sloane whoops in excitement.

I hang up before I can change my mind and go change into a skirt.

If I’m going to get drunk in public, at least I’m going to look good doing it.

Downrigger’s is a casual place right on the lake, with a wraparound deck and spectacular views of the Sierras on one side and Lake Tahoe on the other.

The sunset will be beautiful tonight. Already, the sun is a fiery orange glow dipping low over the horizon. Sloane and I take a seat inside next to a window, a spot that lets us see both the water and the bar, which is crowded with people. Most of whom I know.

After all, I’ve lived here my whole life.

As soon as we’re seated, Sloane leans across the table toward me and hisses, “Look! It’s him!”

I glance around, confused. “Him who?”