“Mmhmm.” Jessie smirks. “There should be some celebs hanging around tonight too. I heard Nikki Rix is in town, usually shows up when DJ Sea is playing. We’ll start on the rooftop but then head inside for his set.”
Naomi nods. If she could get some gossip tonight or witness anything like a Solange–Jay-Z-level scandal, Joel would hopefully forgive her for ignoring him.
*
The elevator opens and Naomi is immediately greeted by a smoky neon-lit club with views of the city skyline, sparkling in the distance like starlight. Jessie guides her through the dance floor, where disco lights reflect off the swaying, sweating bodies. Once across, Jessie pulls up a red rope and guides them to a velvet couch in the corner. A promoter, smelling of cigarettes and shaving cream, is popping champagne for a group of models, their twig arms swaying in the air as they celebrate.
Jessie introduces Naomi to Izzy, the promoter. She’s happy when he doesn’t reach out his greasy hand and instead hands them a glass.
“To a fucking good night!” Izzy shouts, holding up the bottle.
Naomi clinks her glass against the others’ and downs half the contents.
“Want one?” Jessie smirks as she dangles a dime bag containing small white pills in front of Naomi. She hasn’t taken molly in years, not since her early twenties.
“Why not?” Naomi says, holding her hand out. What’s one more bad decision?
The two of them let the pills dissolve on their tongues before knocking back another glass of champagne.
“This one’s for all the bad bitches out there!” The DJ yells into the microphone. Everyone cheers, but Naomi’s smile drops when the trap remix of Harlow Hayes’ “Violent Ends” blares through the speakers.
She tilts her head back, annoyed by the DJ’s song choice for reminding her of everything just when she finally started to forget about it all.
“Yassss, Harlow!” one of the models calls out. “Finally free!”
Naomi rolls her eyes as the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter. She turns to follow Jessie on her way to the dance floor, but freezes when she hears one of the women bring up her article.
“Did you see that article from C*Leb earlier?”
Another woman, this one with thick eyebrows that look like they’ve been glued into place, laughs. “Hell yeah. It was just the wild conspiracy I needed to start my day. I think the writer’s got it all wrong though.”
Naomi bites her lip, not in the mood to hear her defend Harlow.
“I was there that night, at the pre-VMAs party—the night before that girl… well, we know what happened to her now, but I think it was the last place she was seen alive.”
Naomi’s heart races with excitement and she moves closer. The corners of the model’s lips curve into a smirk.
“I saw Jade, Harlow, and Colton together. Walking up the stairs. He had one hand wrapped around Harlow’s shoulders and the other placed right above Jade’s ass.”
Naomi’s mouth falls open at the comment. She now has an eyewitness putting the three of them together, the night before Jade disappeared.
“Hi, sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying.” Naomi’s worried the woman will be annoyed she was eavesdropping, but thankfully, she’s eager to share her theory.
“Yeah, basically just saying that I don’t think Harlow’s the villain in this story. I think we’ll all find out Colton Scott is—was.”
Naomi thinks about how Colton was allegedly blackmailing Harlow and wonders if her intuition about Colton not being completely innocent in all this was right. That maybe he’s done worse things than toy with Harlow’s heart and emotions, as mentioned by Bobby and Trevor. That maybe he was an accomplice. Or worse.
“Do you think the blackmail the writer mentioned had to do with that night then? That Harlow and Jade got in a fight and Harlow killed her? Or do you think Colton played more of a role?”
The model shakes her head before Naomi can finish, taking another swig of champagne before leaning in closer as the music and crowd get louder, nearly screaming in Naomi’s ear. “One of my friends slept with Colton. Said he was creepy as fuck. Like, vile. She told all of us to stay away from him.”
Naomi frowns, unsure of how to process the information. “Vile how?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell us. She just said stay away.”
“So you think he’s the one that killed Jade?” Naomi asks. “And then what? Killed himself?” Naomi thinks of Harlow’s DNA found in Colton’s apartment, knowing she must somehow be involved. But she wonders if the police checked Jade for his DNA. Probably not. She also wonders if this night, right before the VMAs, was when the sex tape was made. But that would mean Colton kept it, despite Jade’s fate. Alarm bells sound in her mind like sirens.
Naomi is about to ask more questions, but then Izzy arrives with a tray of shots. The model squeals, disappearing into the crowd, holding a couple of glasses in the air. Naomi’s head spins, and she can’t tell if it’s from the pill–champagne combo or from this crucial new piece of information.
