She imagines Harlow, who spends most of her time in New York, shuffling through the square after committing murder. Sunglasses obscuring her face. A bucket hat hiding the crimson liquid caked in her hair. Balled fists concealing stubborn, dried blood under her acrylic nails.The carpet was as red as the blood on Harlow Hayes’ hands. Naomi can see the line in one of her articles.
But whose blood? Naomi needs to know who the victim is and how the body was found in order to properly speculate. Hopefully, Amelia will have heard some rumors at work, but if not, Naomi will head over to the courthouse next. She takes out her phone and texts Cameraman Chris, C*Leb’s videographer, currently stationed there.
How are things going? Might stop by this morning…
Naomi waits, watching the three dots ripple before his response comes through.
Wouldn’t bother. Spokesperson already came out and said they won’t be making any comment until tomorrow’s press conference after the arraignment.
Naomi perks up, surprised they’ve already confirmed the arraignment. And that it’ll be happening so soon. Joel said it would, but still, in Naomi’s experience, these things are usually dragged out. But since it’s undoubtedly such a high-profile case, and Harlow has money, power, and connections, her lawyers were probably able to get it expedited. Naomi wonders if this means her team is confident they’ll get an acquittal. Or bail, at least.
She’s looking down at her phone when she hears a familiar, high-pitched voice call out her name, dragging out the “ee” sound at the end. She smirks when she spots Amelia bounding toward her, dressed stylishly as ever in black jeans, a burgundy sweater—or “jumper,” as she calls it—and camel-colored booties that match the trench coat draped over her shoulders. All a perfect complement to her long copper hair and green eyes.
Amelia pulls Naomi in for a hug and kiss. She smells of expensive perfume mixed with fake tan. “You alright?”
Naomi’s smile drops, worried she must look a hell of a lot worse than she thought. She really should have gone heavier on her makeup. “I’m okay. Just exhausted. Why, do I look tired? I took the red-eye—”
“Babe…” Amelia says. “Remember, when a Brit asks if you’re alright, it just means ‘Hi.’ Or ‘What’s up.’ Don’t need your life story, do I?”
Naomi covers her face with her hand as she laughs. How could she forget. She made that mistake the first time she got the opportunity to fill in for a red-carpet event and a famous British singer asked if she was “alright.” Assuming she was genuinely asking if she was feeling okay, Naomi had rambled on about how this was her first time on the red carpet, how she was filling in for one of the presenters, and how she was so excited to meet her. While confused, the singer had been polite and gone along with it. It wasn’t until the next day, when Joel sat her down and explained, that she realized her mistake. But this isn’t a red carpet interview with a superstar. It’s Amelia.
“Shut up, you know you care,” Naomi says, holding out Amelia’s tea and a bagged croissant.
“You’re right, I do. I actually do.” Amelia laughs before thanking her. She takes a seat on the bench and pats it, willing Naomi to sit down and join her.
“Anyway, how are you?” Naomi takes in how put-together Amelia looks, reminiscing on their college days, when Amelia was anything but. When Naomi looks closer, though, she can still see traces of old Amelia peeking through. Like the little loop of ribbon hanging out of her sweater. The stain on her coat. And the chipped nail on her left hand.
“Oh my god,” Naomi says before Amelia answers. “Let me see!” She grabs Amelia’s hand, where a large, round-cut princess diamond adorns her ring finger. Naomi knows Amelia and Tom got engaged, but it’s the first time she’s seen her in person since. “Congratu-freaking-lations!”
Amelia does a little shimmy as she passes over her hand, beaming. “I’m doing fab, as you can see. Tom’s amazing. I was absolutely buzzing when I saw it.” Amelia pulls her hand back to admire her ring. “You know, Tom has a very handsome single brother, Leo…” She looks back up at Naomi, a devilish grin plastered on her face. “I could set us up on a cheeky double-date while you’re here.”
Naomi side-eyes Amelia. “I’m not here to date. I’m here for work.”
“Did I mention he works for the NYPD? Could be a potential source…” Amelia gives Naomi a challenging look as she takes a bite of her croissant.
Naomi rolls her eyes, but then considers it. The police are unlikely to be forthcoming with information in a high-profile case like this, so he could be her best way in.
“Fine, I’ll let you set something up—”
Naomi holds a finger in the air as Amelia squeals in delight. “But first, you have to tell me what you know about Harlow’s arrest.”
Amelia’s eyes light up. She moves her hand in circles as she finishes chewing. “Honestly. It’s mad. I still can’t believe it. I’m not on the account, but my friend Tabby—she’s basically Harlow’s publicist—is having a right mare, especially working with Machinist’s PR team.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Tabby’s been in constant crisis comms mode, dealing with an insane amount of press enquiries and requests for comment. As you can imagine. And, of course, they’re not answering anything yet, as per Harlow’s lawyer’s request… so nothing juicy there for you.”
Even though this is what she expected, Naomi is still disappointed at the lack of information.
“Woah, woah, don’t get all downtrodden yet,” Amelia says, picking up on Naomi’s body language. “Because I have something even better. And you’ll be proud of me too, cause I used my little investigative brain to get this intel…”
Naomi eyes her warily.
“I think I know who she offed.” Amelia stares at Naomi as the statement lands, watching for her reaction and smirking as the realization hits her.
“Wait, what?” Naomi gasps. “Who?”
Amelia looks around, then pauses dramatically before uttering, “Colton Scott.”
Naomi’s eyes widen in surprise. “No…”
“Yes,” Amelia nods.
