It was only half past six when she got to The EndUp. Half an hour to while away. She decided to go to a nearby hotel with a dimly lit bar. A pianist was playing in the lobby, which soothed her quite a bit, at least temporarily. A waiter glided over and asked in a hushed voice what she’d like to drink. She grinned wildly and said a Bloody Mary. She drank very slowly, as if this could stretch out the time before her fall. There was no going back now.

It was almost seven, but the summer night was still far away. She opened her purse but found her wallet missing. In her romantic frenzy, she’d packed a toothbrush but not her wallet. She looked around for the waiter and saw him busy chatting with another couple of guests. Summoning all her old military skill and training, she slipped out behind his back.

Having successfully ducked the bar bill, she wandered tipsily on. He must already be inside, hoping to actually get his hands on his prey this time. She stumbled toward his trap. Armed only with a toothbrush, she was heading for a beautiful, if hygienic, night. The waiter must have noticed she was gone by now and must be thinking that a woman like her was too old to be dodging a bill. She thought, What a mess I am, doing two dastardly things in one night.

Was Glen searching for her now? Never in his life would he imagine she’d be so depraved as to come to The EndUp, a place where people stripped off their pale human skins to show the monsters within. The EndUp—a good name. Two hosts, dressed all in black, came toward her to ask if she had a reservation. There weren’t many people inside, but the secret talker was surely already waiting.

The hosts came even closer and said very distinctly, “Do. You. Have. A. Reservation?”

The alcohol was getting to her. She could smell the musky scent of a wild animal pursuing her, with a hint of bougainvillea.

She could feel Glen’s note crinkle in her pocket. Suddenly, the smells, the alcohol, the note, unlocked the final piece of the puzzle—she understood the whole situation. She turned and ran, her leather sandals going tap, tap against the sidewalk, like another person’s footsteps. She thought of Glen’s eyes. The same eyes set in a much younger and female face—the girl in the pictures Nini had sent to her. How could she have been so dense? She should have pieced together everything much earlier. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to know the truth. Living with secrets had become the norm, her natural state. She got to the parking lot, keys already in her hand, and a minute later was roaring out onto the road.