Free The Girl In The Glass by James Hayman

intention of living in Aimée’s shadow forever.”
    Moseley rose, went to the chair where Julia was sitting and pulled her to her feet. He put both his drink and her champagne on a side table and put his arms around her waist. He pulled her close.
    She pulled away. “Don’t play games with me, Will. Not tonight. I know it’s Aimée you really want. Just like every other male in the place. At least the ones who don’t need Viagra. And, frankly, I’m in no mood tonight to play the role of that other Whitby girl. You know , the not quite so pretty one? The one who didn’t quite make valedictorian. Oh darn , what’s her name? I can’t seem to remember. No. No more of that. Not tonight, Will. Not with you. Not with anyone. Not ever. I’ve been cast in that role for far too long. It’s time for me to put a stop to it.”
    Moseley, still hopeful he could somehow work his magic, moved in and nuzzled her neck. “Oh, come on, Jules. You know how much I’ve always liked you. Because you’re you and not ‘that other Whitby girl.’ ”
    “Maybe some other time, Moseley, but not tonight.”
    Will sighed. “Fine.” He moved his hands from around Julia’s waist. “So who’s the perfect bitch hanging out with tonight? That black guy? Or maybe that asshole Kraft? Or has she found some other poor sucker?”
    “You really want to know?” asked Julia, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if she was about to reveal a deep, dark secret.
    Moseley nodded. “Yeah. I really want to know.”
    “Who’d you have for senior English?”
    “At Penfield?”
    “Yes, at Penfield.”
    “You have got to be kidding. That poetry-­spouting twink? He’s got to be at least twice her age. And, frankly, I always thought he was a fag.”
    Julia smiled. Exactly what her mother had said when Julia told her about Aimée’s affair a ­couple of weeks ago. She was certain her mother would put a stop to it. But she hadn’t. At least not yet.
    “Ssssh.” Julia put a finger over Moseley’s lips. “Not so loud. They’ll hear you. But you’re at least half right. He’s thirty-­six.”
    “Jesus. Did Aimée tell you this?”
    “Of course not. It’s her secret. And his. If it ever went public, Penfield would kick his tail out of there so fast it’d make his head spin. And God knows what Daddy would do. Of course, Will, I know I can count on you not to breathe a word of it.” She smiled at him conspiratorially. “I mean I can, can’t I?”
    “If it’s such a big secret, how come you know about it?”
    Jules smiled her cat-­who-­swallowed-­the-­canary smile. “Oh, I have my ways.”
    “Such as?”
    “Such as figuring out ­people’s passwords. But I can count on you not to say a word about this, can’t I?”
    “Who would I tell?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Your old Penfield buddies. Your father maybe.”
    “Not a word.” Moseley smiled and took another slug of his whiskey. “Not a word.”

 
    Chapter 12
    M C C ABE WOKE WITH a start when he heard the front door open and then softly close.
    A male voice came from the living room. “You got any beer?”
    He instinctively reached for his weapon. It wasn’t there. He didn’t remember locking it up. He sat up, ready to get out of bed and find it, when he heard Casey’s urgent whisper. “Sssh. Be quiet. My father’s here. He’s sleeping.”
    He looked at the bedside clock to see if she’d made curfew. Just after midnight. Nearly an hour early. Which he would have felt good about if his head wasn’t hurting and his mouth didn’t feel like sandpaper.
    The male voice came again, this time speaking in not quite a whisper.
    “Sorry. You got any beer?”
    “Yes. But you can’t have any.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because he’s a cop, you jerk, and you’re underage. If he woke up, he’d probably throw both of us in the clink.”
    “C’mon. You’re kidding, right?”
    “Yeah, I’m kidding. He’d only throw you in the clink.” There was a brief silence. “All right. He