“Hi,” I call. “I’m down here.”

He sees me and waves, quickening his pace. “Hey, boss,” he greets me, more easygoing than he’s been in all our previous meetings.

Good, I need him to be relaxed to withstand Blair’s sure-to-come interrogation.

“My roommate’s here.” I give him a heads up on the situation before letting him in. “She’s waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.”

“Oh, okay. Do I have to act boyfriendly, then?”

A thrill spider walks down my spine, making me wonder what his “acting boyfriendly” would entail, but I shake the thought away as quickly as it popped into my head.

“No need,” I say. “She knows.”

I finally nudge the door open all the way and let him in.

“Diego, this is Blair. Blair, Diego.”

My best friend does a good job of dropping her jaw only for a second before resuming her studiously scolding expression.

“Hi, I’m Diego.”

He offers her a hand, and she shakes it.

“Blair.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, then turns toward me, asking, “Is there somewhere I can drop these?”

I take the helmet from him and place it on the bar. “You can leave your bag in Blair’s room. This way.” I beckon him to follow me.

He drops the bag on her bed, and before he can do or say anything, she’s giving him the rules.

“I freed this side of the closet for you,” Blair says, opening the door to show him. “And the nightstand. Everything else is still filled with my things, so please don’t touch anything.”

“I’m not diseased, you know?” Diego frowns, more jokingly than serious.

“No, I don’t. Because I know nothing about you. For all I know, you could be a serial killer.”

“I sense some hostility,” Diego says, again not serious.

“Well, sorry if I’m not super-duper pleased about my best friend’s idea to invite a perfect stranger to live in the house with her.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me.” He lifts his hands in a surrender gesture. “I tried to convince her it wasn’t necessary.”

We all move back into the living room. Diego sits on a stool while Blair walks into the kitchen. I lean against the back of the couch and observe warily as Blair takes a glass out of a cabinet and cleans it with a rag—even though it’s perfectly clean already. Then she disappears into the bathroom and comes back with one of those plastic bags you have to use for liquids on a plane. Still holding the glass enveloped in the rag, she hands it to Diego.

“Hold this, please.”

He takes it from her, looking rather puzzled. As am I.

“Okay, now put it in here,” Blair instructs, keeping the plastic bag open.

Diego drops the glass in the bag and, just as he’s looking back up with a questioning expression, Blair snaps a photo with her phone.

“What the hell?” he asks, blinded by the flash.

“All right, Mister, just be advised that if something happens to my best friend, I have your name, your picture, and your fingerprints.” She dangles the makeshift evidence bag in front of him. “The police will find you in no time.”