That would mean actually getting him to come out of his house to ask him. There were definitely parts of his public persona that were genuine. Dude keeps serious vampire hours. Blackout curtains. Sleeps all day. And is obsessed with the murder of JonBenét Ramsey. Of course, you know that already. You’ve seen the giant tattoo on his back, the one that goes from shoulder blade to shoulder blade of her smiling that pretty, perfect pageant smile. Duh, I know: Maybe that’s what attracted him to you, Zara. Young, driven, innocent. Trust me, that’s the first thing I thought of when he hit on me that night at the Grammys after-after-party at the Chateau Marmont. In fact, I called him out. I’d had a few drinks and was clutching my Album of the Year statuette close when I told him, “Don’t even think about trying to fulfill your perverted dead-girl sicko fantasies with me.” At first he laughed. I don’t think he expected that kind of attitude from me. Then he got real serious. Said there was nothing the least bit sexual about his interest in JB. To him, she represented the innocence of the world and how senseless and violent and vicious and evil humanity can be. And the injustice of it all—it sickened him that her killer had never been caught.

That surprised me. I hadn’t known much about the case. I mean, how would I? I was less than a year old when it happened. I figured someone had gone to jail for killing her a long time ago. Liam said I should come over to his house in Malibu. We could watch JB documentaries in his home theater until the sun came up. It would be an important part of my education.

“Sounds like a romantic first date,” I said.

He laughed again.

“First date, huh? In that case, I have something much better in mind.”

Dodgers game followed by Indian food followed by moonlight drive to Malibu house. But no JB documentaries. It wasn’t until we’d been together about four months that I finally asked to watch them. He didn’t mention it, I’d like to think because our relationship had started to restore his faith in the goodness of humanity and he was focused on our future rather than some random dead girl’s past. But I was curious. We didn’t spend the night together very much—like I said, his sleep schedule was like Prince Lestat’s—but when we did share the same bed, he’d turn onto his side, and there would be JB staring at me with those huge saucer eyes. What exactly happened to you? I needed to know.

Big mistake.