He nodded while I shook my head.
“She saw him yesterday, for her birthday.”
“No, she didn’t.” His voice was emphatic, laboring over each syllable to make sure they came out perfect.
But he was lying. Desiree was a daddy’s girl. Still, I decided to humor him. “Fine. Tell me what happened.”
“Wish I knew.”
“Well, whatever it was, they made up. There’s a pic of them on her Instagram.”
Of his arm, but still. Mel hadn’t mentioned any falling-out when I was in his office.
Naut shrugged, took another drink. “The photo couldn’t have been recent.”
It had to have been. She was in that teal romper. Desiree didn’t re-wear clothes when lounging around the house—much less leaving it. And there was no way Mel could stay mad at Desiree. They’d have made up.
But if they hadn’t been talking, it was for a reason. One I’d never have the courage to ask Mel about. If Aunt E had known, she’d have told me. I could think of only one other person who might.
Zarah.
*
I took an Uber. It was late. I was tipsy, but I wasn’t foolish. Before I left Naut, I asked him about Find My Friends, but he didn’t have it enabled. He sent me off with a bottle of water and his phone number to make sure I made it to my destination safe and sound.
I left another message for Green, then mentally replayed my conversation with Naut during the entire ride downtown. Erin was right. Naut didn’t know what happened after he’d left for his gig.
Uneasiness bubbled inside me. I’d started the day wanting to know one thing: Why had Desiree been coming to see me? And instead of getting an answer, now I had a million more questions.
Zarah’s building was as tall and pristine as a wedding cake. There was no doorman this time. Just an intercom listing apartment numbers. I hit 301 and waved solemnly at the security camera. It took only a few seconds for her to buzz me in.
But when I finally got upstairs, I realized Zarah hadn’t buzzed me in at all. Her assistant was cute and Black, with flawless makeup and a long, straight lace front in the same trendy platinum color I saw all over YouTube but would never dare try myself. She introduced herself as Felicia.
“She’s been in bed since the doctor left,” Felicia said.
I nodded, not surprised that he’d made a house call. When you’re rich and famous, doctors come to you.
“I’ll get her,” Felicia said.
“No, I don’t want to wake her. I can always come back another time.”
But Felicia was already making her way down the lone hall. “No, she wanted me to get her when you stopped by.”
I looked around. It wasn’t only the outside of the building that resembled a wedding cake. Zarah’s apartment was white on white on white. Flow through and open concept, with a glossy white kitchen squeezed into one corner. The floors were a light wood she tried to hide under an oversize furry white rug. I knew from browsing her Instagram that it looked way better in photos than in real life.
Truth was, my objections to Felicia were solely home training. I had no desire to come back later. I wanted to talk to Zarah now, so I was glad she was willing to talk to me.
Then I saw her.
It said a lot about Zarah that even in oversize sweats, no makeup, and with her hair in a bun, she outshined me, Felicia, and probably everyone in a ten-block radius. She’d wanted to be a model when we were kids but never made it past five foot four. It also said a lot that she had managed to do it anyway, by launching a new makeup line designed specifically for women of color after struggling for years to match shades to her deeper complexion. Not that she needed it. Her skin came with its own filter, only disturbed by dimples when she smiled.
There were no dimples today. Just tears, her eyes a red-rimmed puffy mess that would require an intricate cocktail of creams and patches to rectify. She shuffled straight to me, only stopping when she was close enough to envelop me in the fleece blanket she’d brought with her from the bedroom.
The top of my T-shirt was drenched within seconds. I held her while Felicia busied herself in the kitchen area. Zarah finally pulled away. “Let’s sit.”
She shuffled to a white couch that looked uncomfortable as hell, but then so did the kitchen chairs and every other piece of furniture in the place. We sat, then just took each other in. I hadn’t seen myself in hours. I was sure I didn’t look much better than she did—minus the red eyes, of course. I should’ve asked her about Mel, but I didn’t. There was something else on my mind.
“Was Desiree suicidal?”
It was as if Zarah suddenly inflated. “No! Are the police saying…” She trailed off. I was losing her. Shitnuts.
“No,” I said quickly. “They did say she was going to meet someone after she left the party. She mention anyone?”
She shook her head.
I pressed. “Not when you said goodbye.”
Her eyes teared up again. “I had to rush to Abby’s lip-kit launch before the red carpet closed. We didn’t say goodbye. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m not blaming you. Do you think maybe it was someone she was seeing?”
Zarah’s eyes lit up, happy to be helpful. “Maybe! She definitely saw him earlier. She was wearing a necklace he got her. Kept fingering it all night.”
“Who was it?”
She deflated again. “She wouldn’t say, just that they had to keep things quiet because of the press. And I didn’t want to ask since we’d just started talking again. I should’ve. I’m so sorry.”
The tears came fast and furious. I pulled her close and held her again as I spoke to Felicia. “Can you get her some water?”
By the time she’d brought the glass over, Zarah was just dry heaving. “She was like this all morning,” Felicia said, like Zarah wasn’t there. Couldn’t hear a word. “The meds were helping, though. I can call her doctor. See if he can come back.”
I shook my head. I could ask Tam about Mel. “Let’s just get her to bed. Maybe that’ll help.” I turned to Zarah, gently rubbed her back. “Felicia’s gonna take you to your room.”
She just nodded, letting me and Felicia help her up and then down the hall.
Eight
I texted Tam from the Uber on the drive home, but I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer. It was late. Aunt E’s light was on when the Uber dropped me off, but her apartment went dark as soon as I opened our front gate. Just like when I stayed over in college.
She didn’t open her door when I walked past, and I didn’t stop in to say good night. Instead, I went straight up to my apartment. She’d been inside. The aluminum-foil-wrapped plate on my kitchen counter was a dead giveaway. Still not hungry, I put it in my fridge and left a trail of clothes to my bathroom, where I hunted down an old bottle of melatonin I hadn’t used since the month after Desiree and I had stopped speaking. It was long past its expiration. I was willing to risk it.
I added gel to my braids, tied them down with a scarf, and popped three gummies.
I dreamt that night. Desiree and me playing hide-and-seek, something we had loved as kids. Gram’s apartment and backyard weren’t big, so we both knew all the places to hide and all the places to look. But it wasn’t like that in my dream. I looked for her all night, checked everywhere, including the cabinet she loved. I never found her.