“Yeah?” Lesley found the mirror on the wall and checked, running her hand along her hair, turning to check out her ass. “Good. Obviously he’s into you, but does that mean your look? His Instagram had him with more basic bitches. So I went that way.”

“It’s perfect. He’ll probably nut at the bar.”

“Damn,” said Lesley. She sat down on the sofa and pulled a baggie out of her purse. “That’s an image.”

Claudia laughed. She liked who she was with Lesley. With Lesley, Claudia was in charge. She was strong again, capable. Could she keep that up with Chad in the room?

Lesley laid two lines of white powder on the coffee table, took a pad of yellow Post-its from her purse, and rolled a straw.

“One for you?” she offered.

“I’m good.”

Lesley shrugged and snorted.

“It’s just coke. The other thing’s in a little dropper.” She wiped her nose then got up and went into the bathroom. Claudia heard the water running.

“I was thinking,” called Lesley, “maybe you should just give me the rest of the money now.”

Knock knock.

Claudia went to the door and saw Trevor through the peephole. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The plan had been to keep everything offline and connect in a couple days. She didn’t want him to meet Lesley. All this felt manageable if she kept things simple. Two people in a room at a time. Everybody on a need-to-know.

She opened the door.

“What are you doing here?”

He pushed past her.

“Is Chad here?”

“What? No.”

“Good.”

Trevor started jabbering about Jeremy’s dad, but Claudia interrupted him.

“Stop talking,” she said. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, something happened!”

Lesley came out of the bathroom. “Who’s this?”

Trevor grabbed Claudia’s wrist. She shook him off.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“You are talking.”

“Claudia, who is this guy?”

“Don’t worry. We go to school together.”

“Tell him he better not fucking touch you again,” said Lesley.

“I’m fine,” said Claudia. “He’s harmless. Thank you. Why don’t you head down to the bar?”

“Whatever you say,” said Lesley. She picked her purse up off the bed and left with a little kick of her heel. The clock beside the bed said 9:15 p.m.

“Did you do it?” asked Claudia when Lesley was gone.

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s in the hospital.”

“Did you get his hands?” The plan had been to knock him down with a blow to the head, then smash his fingers. No fingers, no guitar god.

“I couldn’t do that part,” said Trevor. “His brain is swollen, he’s…”

“Can he still play the guitar?”

“Claudia, listen to me. You need to call this off. Whatever you’re going to do to Chad, I don’t think you should do it. I think you’ll regret it.”