Free Mayhem in High Heels by Gemma Halliday

all one word (Whatever you do, don't put an underscore in there. Shudder. That was way more than I wanted to see of anyone before my second cup of coffee in the morning.), but finally a blue welcome screen came up. I typed in my email address and the password Marco had given me.
    My personal page came up next, along with the information that I had two friends. Some guy named Tom and Allie Quick. I clicked on the little link below my name that read "inbox" and saw Allie's smiling face at the top of the queue.
    Look at me, navigating the internet like a pro!
    Feeling pretty darn proud of myself, I opened the message.
    It was short and to the point, saying how horrified she was about what happened to Gigi and that she'd be happy to meet with me this morning. She suggested her apartment at 10:00 and gave me an address in Glendale.
    I glanced up at the clock above my drawing table. 9:30. I downed my coffee and I prayed traffic on the 5 was light.
    * * *
    10:12 I pulled up in front of a two-story tan, stucco building hunkered against the side of a hill on Verdugo. It was one of those nondescript seventies buildings that conformed to the utilitarian shoebox school of architecture. Three units on the bottom, three on top, one set of rusted metal stairs climbing up the right side. On the left was a covered car park, where a pair of sedans squatted beneath the overhang.
    I parked at the curb and clubbed my Jeep, taking a cement walkway to the building through overgrown agapanthus and a lawn that was 90% crabgrass. The mingling scents of curry and onions wafted from beneath the first door, the distant wail of an unhappy toddler bellowing from the second before I reached unit F on the end. I gave a sharp rap, hoping Allie was still home.
    Two beats later Gigi's former assistant opened the door. Her blue eyes were red and rimmed with dark circles that spoke of a sleepless night. She held a tissue in one hand. A pair of white cargo pants hung limply on her slim frame beneath a black Daughtry concert T-shirt that hugged her generous D cups in a way that made me wish I'd thrown on a Wonderbra this morning.
    "Oh, Maddie, doesn't this just suck?" she said, her voice threatening to crack.
    I nodded sympathetically. "Thanks for seeing me. Do you mind if I come in?"
    She nodded, sniffling loudly before stepping back to allow me entry.
    The inside of the apartment was as square and uninteresting as the outside, a small kitchen done in olive green tile and pealing linoleum to the right, a living room to the left and a single bedroom visible beyond that. While the gray shag carpeting and at-one-time-white vertical blinds were an eyesore, she'd tried to make the most of it with the furnishings. A colorful sheet covered the sofa on the far wall, red and yellow throw pillows adding a cheery feeling. A TV sat in one corner on a stand painted in white and yellow, a matching coffee table sitting in the center of the room, a vase full of bright pink daisies gracing its top. Someone was obviously making the most of a meager salary.
    Next to the flower vase sat a slim, silver phone with about a hundred more buttons than mine and a textbook, open to a page filled with equations that made my eyes cross just glancing at them. Algebra had never been my thing. Math was numbers as far as I was concerned. As soon as they started throwing letters in there, they'd lost me.
    "Taking a class?" I asked.
    Allie sank down onto the sofa, pulling one leg up underneath her as she nodded. "At UCLA. Algebra two."
    I suppressed a shudder as I took a seat beside her. "You're ambitious."
    "It's required. If I want to graduate this June, I have to suck it up and take math."
    "I didn't know you were still in school." Though it made sense. She looked about twelve today minus her makeup and tailored work clothes.
    Allie nodded. "Working with Gigi was just a part-time gig. I'm actually majoring in journalism. I only worked at L'Amore on days I didn't have class. Which is why I wasn't