“No,” Amy snapped, then instantly felt bad about using such a sharp tone with her best friend. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, sweetie, but the answer is no.” She stood, did a little twirl. “Now, how do I look?”

“Amazing,” Kasey said glumly.

Amy lifted the bottle of Chanel Chance she shared with Kasey from the dresser and spritzed the scent onto her neck and wrists. She unplugged her cell phone from where it was charging next to the perfume bottle and slipped it into her faux-leather purse alongside her wallet, driver’s license, hairbrush, cosmetics, breath mints, car keys, and a single condom.

“Wait,” Kasey said. She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, rummaged inside among bras and panties, and then produced a can of pepper spray. “At least take this with you.”

Amy held up her bulging purse. “No space.” She gave Kasey a quick hug. “Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. I always am. Don’t wait up.”

She left the bedroom before Kasey could persuade her to change her mind.

Outside, the early-evening air was still warm, but goose bumps dappled the skin on Amy’s arms as she emerged from the housing complex’s stairwell onto the street. The sun was dropping rapidly into the horizon, the brightness of the day giving way to a starless dusk.

Her heels clacked loudly on the asphalt as she made her way across the student parking lot to her beat-up old Mini. She climbed inside and turned the key in the ignition, praying silently the car would start the first time. She was already running late, and a cab all the way out to Hollywood was out of the question.

The engine sputtered and coughed and finally caught, and Amy breathed a sigh of relief as it rumbled softly beneath her. The radio burst into life, playing a sad song about lost love on one of her favorite country music stations. She felt the knot of anxiety in her belly loosening just a little. The clock on the dash glowed bright green. She’d probably be a few minutes late, but she knew he would wait for her. Amy shuddered. She thought about having a couple of glasses of wine tonight, just enough to settle the nerves, but she knew it wouldn’t be worth the risk.

The car’s interior was illuminated by the amber glow of a nearby streetlight, and Amy caught a glimpse of sad eyes in the rearview mirror. She sighed. She had no idea who the girl staring back at her was anymore. She released the hand brake and edged slowly out of the parking space.

Amy Ong.

The smart girl.

The good girl.

If only they knew.

3 JESSICA

3

JESSICA

The listing on the Lost Angelenos website didn’t offer much information beyond the basics.