“I’ve got nothing,” she huffs.

“See? I’m not crazy.”

“Apparently not. What do you need from me?”

“For you to get on board with the plan and pretend you’ve known Diego for a few months—”

“Diego?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Surname?”

“O’Donnell.”

She types both into her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving his generalities in case you disappear and the police need them.”

“Hey, you’re the only person I know who ever got in trouble with the cops.”

“I was a victim of the justice system, and we’re not talking about me.”

“I thought you were asking how you could be supportive.”

Blair sighs. “I was. Anything else you need?”

I make big, Puss-in-Boots eyes at her. “Could you free some closet space in your room?”

***

When the doorbell rings, Blair is already packed and ready to go back to Brooklyn. She’s called Richard, who’ll come to pick her up in a bit—she’s asked for enough time to make sure Diego is no Charlie Manson, I suspect.

“He’s coming up,” I announce after buzzing Diego in.

“Good.” Blair has settled with her butt against the back of the couch and is staring at the door with the same rapt expression of a hawk scanning the woods for squirrels.

I wait by the threshold, keeping the door half open and feeling ridiculously nervous.

When I spot Diego walking down the hall, I have a moment’s hesitation. With his leather jacket, dark looks, and biker helmet, he really is a “bad boy” personification. I just hope Blair can get past first impressions.

“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.