“And we’re completely sick of one another. You’re fresh blood,” Pearson added.

They were conspiratorial again, their divisions buried under shallow cheer. I didn’t understand how that was possible. Unless. Unless they had decided to band together to protect someone they still admired. Or most of them still admired.

“We’re going to jump in the pool before everyone gets there,” said Zania, “and order a disgusting amount of . . . of what?” She turned.

“Pizza and wings,” said Erik.

“Sashimi?” said Layla.

“We had sushi yesterday,” said Pearson. “I vote wings. Dripping with fat and buffalo sauce.”

A look of revulsion crossed Zania’s face.

“I’m no carbs,” said Layla. “I could do steaks.”

“Wings don’t have carbs,” said Pearson.

“But they have bones,” protested Layla.

“Steaks have bones, too,” said Pearson.

“Not filet.”

“I don’t even have to try,” said Pearson.

“Filet and pizza and wings,” Zania said to me with a grisly smile. “Coming?”

18

WHEN I WALKED HOME TO change clothes for the pool party, the breeze switched. West wind to east wind. I’d experienced alternations in the air currents all my life. Everyone does. But they’d never tasted to me the way they tasted in L.A.: the soft, clear salt wind from the ocean suddenly washed back by the grit and heat from the city, the desert beyond. Sunlight streamed through both winds, my body strode through both, but every time I crossed through east wind to west wind, or back again, I inhabited a different state of being, as if someone had replaced a lilting piano soundtrack with crashing noise rock.

West wind: What if the crew had found out that Hal was being investigated by LAAC? I wanted to see their reactions.

East wind: A foreboding filled me. Layla shaking her head at me as she smiled. Quit now.

East wind: Why foreboding? Because the party was at Nelson’s house?

West wind: It was a party. What could happen with so many people around?

East wind: What did Nelson’s connection to Calvin mean?

East wind: Ray still had not responded to my call.

East wind: Ray was concealing something.

East wind: He was protecting himself. Or maybe he was protecting me.

YEGINA PHONED AFTER I’D STRIPPED off the black dress and was rummaging in one of the dressers for my swimsuit. A calm had settled over me, and I answered on the first ring.

“Are we still going out tomorrow night?” she asked. “I’ll be in by midafternoon. And what are you wearing?”

Yegina and I had planned to attend Dee’s gig at a British-themed bar in West Hollywood on Friday. It was the week before Halloween on Melrose, costumes encouraged. “I have that red wig.”

“The same red wig you wear every year?” said Yegina.