Liv looked in her wardrobe mirror and straightened her back. She felt like there was an invisible rope wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward Hank. She was sure he’d be surrounded by his management team, hangers-on and fans. How could she stand out from the crowd? Opening her wardrobe, she stared dolefully at an AC/DC T-shirt and her jeans. She ran a hair through her half-highlighted hair and had an idea.

She took a taxi to a city center hair salon. After an hour in the creative director’s chair, she left with a new shiny bob, similar to Essie’s style. All her blond streaks were now cut out, and her hair was a rich, walnut brown.

At Essie’s apartment, she changed into the blue dress with embroidered birds. She applied orange lipstick, slipped on dark sunglasses and studied herself in the mirror. It felt thrilling to see a younger version of Essie staring back at her.

“Quite,” Liv said to her reflection.

At Hank’s Bar a blonde woman wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt with prison bars printed on it, stood at the door holding a clipboard. “Name?” she said, as if for the thousandth time.

Liv pushed the sunglasses up her nose. “Essie Starling,” she said.

The woman lowered her clipboard. Her eyes widened. “Really? Wow,” she said. “You want me to go tell Hank?”

Liv shook her head. “Let’s keep it as our little surprise.”

The woman grinned and rubber-stamped the back of Liv’s hand. “It feels weird to be saying this, but... Welcome to Hank’s for a criminally good time,” she said. “Any chance of a photo with you?”

“Maybe later.” Liv waved a hand and swept inside.

The main room of the bar had red walls displaying framed photos of infamous criminals. Liv was about to say hi to a woman she thought she recognized. She stopped, realizing she’d seen her in a reality show that set up unsuspecting distant relatives on blind dates.

The bar soon flooded with people, many of them pretty young women who didn’t typically look like Essie Starling readers. She was glad not many people actually knew what writers looked like. Soon, all Liv could see around her were the tops of people’s heads. She kept on her dark glasses.

A young barman placed a glass in front of her, and poured purple liquid from a pitcher. “Care for a free drink?” he said. “Our Jack the Ripper cocktail.”

Liv needed some liquid courage and took a sip. She could still feel Jake’s disappointment rippling through her.

“Good stuff, huh?” he said.

“If you like rocket fuel.” She tried not to cough.

“Nice to see a mature lady in here,” the barman said with a wink. “You on your own?”

The word mature made Liv feel like Stilton cheese. She took off her sunglasses and emulated one of Essie’s steely stares. “Yes, by choice,” she said.