I don’t think she means that. I watch as she heads back to the table of women who are now gawking at us. I wave. No one seems to appreciate that. I turn to face the bar again.
“I’m not trying to prove you killed Savannah,” Ben says. “I’m trying to find out who killed her.”
“That’s the same thing to a lot of people.”
“Not to me.” He looks over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze to see Nina frowning at us.
“Did you guys get into it or something?”
“Not that I know of. But I offend a lot of people, so who can say?”
I laugh, and Nina’s frown deepens. I put a hand on his arm. （Yes, it is unnecessary to touch him. Yes, I do it anyway.） “Turn around. She’s going to think we’re talking about her.”
He smiles as he turns to face me again, and when I drop my hand from his arm, he catches my fingers, just for a moment.
“We are talking about her.”
“We’re supposed to be subtle about it. It’s the Texas way.”
“If you want to know the truth, I kind of love her and Emmett.” He leans closer to me, so close that our shoulders touch.
“I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think the feeling’s mutual.” I should move away. I don’t.
“That’s fine. I don’t mind my one-sided love for them.”
“And what is it about them that you find so lovable?”
“They’re on your side.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“I mean, the podcast would have gotten boring real quick if every single person I interviewed said the same thing. Nice of them to mix it up for me.”
I smile. Ben’s gaze flickers down to my lips.
I lean away a little, so that our shoulders aren’t touching anymore, and take a sip of my drink.
“Have you talked to Matt since the last episode aired?” Ben asks. I wonder whether he’s been waiting to ask that question since I walked in.
“No. He’s been ignoring my texts. I could drop by his house again.”
He looks at me. Looks away. Takes a sip of his pink drink.
“Is that … safe?”
Well, fuck. I wonder who told him. I wonder who even knows. I always thought that a couple of women from the neighborhood had an inkling, but I’m surprised they told him.
“Is it ever safe to confront a man about being a dick?”
“No.” He says it like he has experience with this, which is unsurprising. “It’s not.”
* * *
I stay at the bar with Ben for two hours. He tells me about his family and his friends and how the east side of L.A. is the best side of L.A. I agree. It turns out we only live about fifteen minutes away from each other, which actually makes me a little uneasy. There’s an upside to getting kicked out of Nathan’s apartment.
I don’t finish my second cosmo because I’m well on my way to tipsy. Maybe mostly on my way to drunk. Maybe already there.
I pull my phone out as we walk out of the bar and lean against the side of the building. He looks at me curiously.
“I’m calling an Uber.”
He points. “Isn’t that your car?”
“I’m too drunk to drive.”
“Seriously? From two drinks?”
“I’m a lightweight.”
“I guess so.”
“It would probably be fine, but it doesn’t seem worth the risk. I don’t want to be the girl who murdered her friend and the girl who gets arrested for drunk driving. That’s just embarrassing.”
He laughs and pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
I slide my phone back into my purse. “Thank you.”
“Do they even have Uber in this town?”
“There’s one dude. Apparently he takes forever to show up.”
“Not much incentive to be quick when you’re the only game in town.”
“Hey, jackass!” The screaming voice is familiar, and my fingers instinctively tighten into fists. I whirl around.
It’s Matt, tearing across the parking lot like his ass is on fire. His face is twisted with fury, his whole body so tense I can see the muscles rippling down his arms.
But his anger isn’t directed at me, which is a new experience. He’s charging straight for Ben.
Ben dives into his car and I think he’s going to make a run for it. But he emerges a moment later and tosses something small and black onto the hood of the car. His digital recorder.
“Hi, Matt,” the smug idiot says.