“Does she like him?”
“How the fuck should I know? But my brother usually gets what he wants, one way or another.”
Sander stayed put as Filip stumbled off. Another crack in the world. Surely she wouldn’t even notice if he left. When he pictured Mikael and Felicia Grenberg all entwined in some secret corner of the house, a hot, sharp stab of rage flamed up in his chest.
Loud voices from upstairs. A scuffle. Something else broke.
“Hey!” Pierre shouted. “Stop it! Jesus, just stop! Calm down.”
People’s fuses were too short. Too much going on in their hands and not enough in their heads.
Sander went back to the leather sofa in the living room and sat down next to Killian. When Pierre came down a few minutes later, he sank to the floor, exhausted, and lay down on his back.
“I’m never having a party ever again.”
“What happened?” Sander asked.
“Jakob and Mikael got into a fight, is all.”
“Who won?”
“It’s fine now. I broke it up.”
So Mikael wasn’t with Felicia, at least. The first piece of good news tonight. Sander looked around for her again. Killian leanedtoward him to be heard over the music. He was starting to slur his words.
“Madeleine hurt herself today. So I think Felicia’s staying home with her.”
“Hurt how?”
“I guess she fell off the roof. I heard Alice and Isabelle talking about it when I was in the bathroom.”
“Oh. Okay, sure.”
Killian lowered his voice a notch. “I wonder how much money it actually is.”
“What?” Sander was slurring now too. “What do you mean?”
“You know, in Jakob’s kitchen bench.”
“No one here probably has much, really.”
“Yeah, but still.”
“Hardly anything.”
Sander’s words made something between them shift.
“Why do you say stuff like that?” Killian asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you look down on other people.”
“I do not.”
“Well, it sounds like you do.”
“Fine, but I don’t.”
