Todd Strasser: Kill You Last

“I’d have to agree,” Gabriel said.

I sensed an opportunity to flirt, but given the circumstances, it felt wrong. Instead, I changed the subject. “So what do you think’s going on?”

“Who knows? It’s crazy.”

“In what way?”

“In every way.”

“Like all three missing girls getting head shots from Dad?”

“Yeah, and…” For a second it seemed like he was going to add something more.

“And?” I prompted him to continue.

“And just, you know, the whole thing. The cops questioned everyone at the studio, but you could see they were more interested in your father and me because we’re guys. As if we might have had a reason to go around doing evil things to women.”

I wanted to ask him more, but before I could, he reached over and flicked away some strands of hair that had fallen into my face.

When his fingers brushed my cheek, I felt a shivery tingle.

“That’s better,” he said. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a beautiful profile?”

The tingling increased. I’d been told I had a nice profile, but I couldn’t recall anyone saying it was beautiful. That felt good, especially from someone like Gabriel, who had certainly spent a lot of time around beautiful women.

“Uh, no,” I answered. “But thanks.”

“I wonder…” He reached behind me and gathered my hair in his hand as if putting it in a ponytail. I felt goose bumps as his fingers grazed the nape of my neck. “How come I never see you in a ponytail?”

Was he indicating that he paid more attention to me than I’d previously thought? How else would he know that I almost never put my hair in a ponytail?

“Only when I’m playing sports,” I said.

“Which ones?”

“Tennis, snowboarding, volleyball. I used to play soccer.”

“We should go boarding sometime,” he said, then pointed through the windshield. “That’s it, on the right.” The building was new and brightly lit, with a canopy stretching out to the street. As I slowed down, a doorman stepped out.

Gabriel turned to me. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled.

The doorman opened the passenger door. Gabriel started to get out, then stopped and turned back to me. “Feel like a quick drink?”

My first impulse was to say yes, but I quickly caught myself. Just suppose the girls hadn’t run away? Suppose something bad had happened to them. Anyone associated with the studio had to be a possible suspect, right? And besides Dad, Gabriel was the only other male who worked there.

But the chances were slim that something bad had happened. Like Mom said, in a day or two it would probably all be cleared up.

And I did have a crush on Gabriel, who hardly seemed like a violent, girl-abductor type. With looks like his, he was probably more concerned with being abducted himself.

Those girls could have all run off and joined the circus.

I was dying to see Gabriel’s apartment.

And Dad knew where I was.

“Okay, sure,” I heard myself say.

We rode up in an elevator lined with mirrors. Gabriel smiled, and I smiled back nervously, then noticed that his gaze went past me to his reflection in the mirrored elevator wall. I was surprised since, in my estimation, he was the last man on earth who needed to be concerned about his appearance.

A few moments later, while I stood in the hall, waiting for him to unlock the door, I realized that I’d never been in a single man’s apartment before. The door opened into darkness, and I began to feel apprehensive. Was this a smart thing to do? Gabriel turned on a light, and I felt my jaw drop. He may have been only a few years older than me, but his apartment was gorgeous, spacious, with art on the walls and a granite counter separating the kitchen from the living room. There were black leather couches; thick rugs; tall, elegant lamps; and sheer curtains. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d done it all himself or hired a decorator, and where he’d gotten all the money. Definitely not from being an assistant at Dad’s studio while picking up a few local modeling jobs here and there.

“Welcome to the apartment Texas hold ’em built,” he said, as if he knew what I was thinking.

“That’s a card game, right?”

“Not a card game,” he said. “ The card game. Played in casinos around the world.” He went around the granite counter. “Vino?”

I wasn’t a big fan of wine, especially on an empty stomach, which was the result of my having no appetite after all the anxiety from earlier in the day. But asking for a soft drink sounded way too middle school. So I said yes.

“Perfecto.” Gabriel placed two wineglasses on the counter, then took a bottle from the refrigerator. “I’ve got a really smooth Chardonnay.”

I sat on a stool feeling tense, but excited. This was all so very mature, and more than a little nerve-racking. He handed me a glass. “Cheers.”

I imagined tapping my glass too hard against his, and both shattering in a burst of shimmering liquid and shards. Plus, given the circumstances, I wasn’t sure what there was to toast. But I managed to clink glasses and then take just enough of a sip to reconfirm the fact that I really didn’t like the taste.

Gabriel put down his glass and gazed past me at the dark windows. I glanced in the same direction and realized he was looking at his reflection again. Was it nervousness or, as I was beginning to suspect, something more narcissistic?

He gestured toward the living room. “Shall we sit someplace more comfortable?”

I would have preferred keeping the kitchen counter between us, but again, I couldn’t imagine how to say no to his offer. The couch was L-shaped and I sat down close to the vortex, hoping he’d sit opposite me. Instead, he came around the coffee table and sat beside me. I felt my jaw tighten and a headache looming. Despite all the times I’d fantasized about being with him, this was definitely a be-careful-what-you-wish-for moment.

“How do you like it?” he asked, taking another sip of wine.

“Uh, very good.” I took a sip and thought, Yuck.

“Well balanced, right? Not too sweet and fruity.”

“Right.”

Gabriel placed his glass on the coffee table and turned to me. “So, Shelby Sloan…”

I knew what that look, and tone of voice, meant. Maybe, at some other time and under other circumstances, I might have welcomed it, but given the reason I’d had to drive him home tonight, it seemed strange and out of place.

“I can’t get my mind off what’s going on,” I said.

Gabriel’s face fell and he sighed, then took another sip of wine and leaned toward me until our shoulders touched. “I know you’re worried about your dad. But I wouldn’t make too much of it. He’s really good at dealing with stuff. Believe me, I’ve seen him in action. Whatever this is about, it’ll blow over, and we’ll get right back to business.”

He meant to reassure me, but his words struck me as weird and jarring. You might have thought he was talking about something as insignificant as a traffic ticket or a hacked Facebook account, not three missing human beings. I began to think back to what Roman had said about Gabriel’s being shallow. Maybe she was right. Maybe Chris Clarke would be a better fit for me. Meanwhile, the pressure of his shoulder on mine increased as he leaned closer. “I still find it hard to believe that someone as attractive as you doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Not at the moment,” I blurted out, then immediately wished I hadn’t. I didn’t want to sound like I was implying that he could fill the position. Right?

Or did I?

I closed my eyes and was surprised to feel things begin to wobble. That’s when I knew it was time to go. This was the wrong time to be here. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault. Not after all the hints I’d dropped around the studio. The worst he could be accused of was being a little callous about the missing girls. But I wasn’t sure that was any worse than what I’d done by agreeing to come up to his place and have a glass of wine.