Free Sunset City by Melissa Ginsburg Page A

again. I was pissed at Sally, too, for all the ways she hurt Danielle over the years. And then, two days after I put them in touch, Danielle wound up murdered. It had to be coincidence, but I felt uneasy. I wished I’d never gone to see Sally in the first place.
    My thoughts turned to Michael. What right did he have to break up with me just when I needed him? I hated feeling this angry. To distract myself, I called work and asked for the manager, hoping he wouldn’t be there.
    I waited a few minutes, sipping coffee and listening to the hold music. Andrew came on the line.
    â€œCharlotte,” he said, “where were you yesterday?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Andrew. I know I screwed up. This has been the worst week of my life. Please don’t fire me.”
    â€œCharlotte, it was two days in a row. First you’re late, then you don’t show up at all, no phone call, nothing. I had to come in on my day off.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, really. Look, my friend was killed on Tuesday.”
    I didn’t mention Michael dumping me, or going to jail. I told him about the murder, and about Detective Ash, and that I’d been held by the police the whole night before I missed my shift. He listened. I think he believed me.
    â€œI’ve already made the schedule for next week,” he said. “You’re not on it.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œCharlotte, take the week and get yourself together, okay?”
    â€œOkay. I have to go to the funeral, anyway.”
    â€œCome in and talk to me if you want back on the schedule.”
    â€œThank you,” I said.
    â€œI mean it. Take care of yourself,” he said, and hung up.
    The kindness in his voice made me start to cry. I paced from window to window, surveying the street, the side yard, the dusty vase on the neighbor’s windowsill. I trimmed some unraveling strings on the rug. I wished I could talk to someone about going to Sally’s last night. There was no one I could call. I hated Michael for not being there. For leaving me alone. Even if we were still together it would have been too much to explain. Nobody besides Danielle would understand.
    I poured whiskey into my coffee mug and flipped through some old pictures of Danielle. I found one taken in my apartment right after graduation. Pot smoke mingled with the light coming through the living room windows, obscuring her hair, making it even more blond. The cloud of light touched her down one side as she smiled at the camera, her heavy-lidded eyes blinking at the smoke. I wished I’d taken more photos, gotten in touch with her sooner, seen her more. It seemed impossible that she was gone.
    On my laptop I opened Danielle’s website and paid the eighteen dollars with my debit card. I wanted to see her, that wasall. I watched a video of Audrey and Danielle together in a room with dark walls. Danielle wore garters and black stilettos, her blond waves held with a shell clip. She stood and spoke, and I muted the volume—her voice was more than I could stand.
    Audrey’s body draped along a red upholstered bench. She wore a simple loose dress of some nearly transparent fabric. Her feet were bare, her toenails unpolished. Danielle bent at the waist to kiss her, displaying her ass for the camera. She pushed Audrey’s dress up her tan thigh. The next shot showed Audrey kissing Danielle’s tits, Audrey’s hands everywhere on her. Danielle closed her eyes in a simulation of pleasure. Their bodies writhed and panted.
    The camera zoomed out to show them on the bench, moving together, groping one another, and cut to the doorway where a man stood. He was shirtless, muscled. He pulled Danielle by the arm, attached her mouth to his cock, which she sucked automatically. Another guy came in, yanked Audrey’s dress over her head and tossed it aside. I lit a cigarette and fast-forwarded to a close-up of Danielle. She pulled a lock of hair behind her ear. The