The hand with the large showy ring simply gathered the white coat fully inside the booth.
Mallory ducked her head low as Ethan stormed past, cursing at his phone, which at that very moment must have been buzzing with a text from Aubrey. He jammed his fingers so hard she thought he’d crack the screen.
Whatever Mallory had just witnessed, Aubrey deserved to know. But telling Aubrey about her likely lying, cheating parasite of a fiancé required more support than Mallory could give. She texted Ilena to meet them at Better Bar.
Then it hit her. She needed something from Ethan. And if hewascheating, he would need Mallory to stay quiet about this. Her stomach twisted as the thought took root.Leverage. Keeping this from Aubrey gave Mallory just that. She could force Ethan to help her find evidence of the inflated numbers, of Grayson’s involvement. She could save her company. And all it took was making the choice to betray one of her best friends.
Mallory needed to be sure. She needed proof of what she’d just seen—not from Ethan, from the woman in the booth. Mallory allowed herself time to gather her resolve. Then she took one last sip of the purple drink and laid cash on top of the bar. But by the time she got to the booth, it was empty of everything except the white coat.
22
Mallory
Sunday Afternoon
Three DaysAfterthe Outing
Mallory leaves Noreen’s car running in the driveway. She unlocks the door to her mom’s kitchen and files past the photographs on the refrigerator without a single dart of her eye. She’s down the basement stairs, in front of the freezer, spinning the padlock and lifting the chest’s lid all in a single breath.
On goes the phone, off goes the blanket, and Mallory steadies her quivering hand to level the device between Grayson’s face and her own, ignoring the way her heart rams against her rib cage. With the sound of the phone unlocking, the tightrope of tension in her body ebbs. She wrests her eyes from those dark spikes of his hair and replaces the blanket. She keeps one finger on the screen so it doesn’t time out as she closes the lid and secures the lock. She’s up the stairs and back in the safety of Noreen’s car and breathing like she’s just finished two marathons when her own phone buzzes and she wants to throttle it along with this universe’s Mallory. It’s surely a reminder for some absurdity like blindfolded speed dating or instructions on how to unlock her own front door.
But Mallory can’t see shit without those stupid reading glasses. She delves into her purse and shoves them on her face. She steadies her breath and opens the settings on Grayson’s phone. Her phone buzzes, and Mallory risks a quick glance. On her lock screen are missed texts from Ella and Noreen. This latest buzz is announcing a text from Ilena. Grayson’s screen darkens in her hand, and she jams a finger to wake it. She ignores her own texts and finds the setting for facial recognition in Grayson’s phone. More incoming messages on her own device: Aubrey, followed by an unknown number.
Ella, Noreen, Ilena, Aubrey, Unknown.
A foreboding grips her chest, but Mallory focuses on the thing that has to take precedence because that thing required the use of a dead body and she’s not doing it again. She taps the button for “facial ID” on Grayson’s phone.
Enter your passcode.
Well, fuckity, fuck, fuck. If she could do that, she wouldn’t need to turn off the goddamn facial ID. Though a scream builds in her throat, she gently cancels and backs all the way out of the settings. She repeats each step. With the same response. Twice.
“Son of a bitch!” She slams the heel of her palm against the wheel. Grayson’s phone tumbles from her grip. The screen flashes, but she shoots out her hand and snatches the device before it goes dark.
So she can’t shut off the facial ID. So she can’t change the passcode. So she’ll have to do this here. Find the right wording to shut Heidi Hoffman down, to make Grayson disappear, because the alternative is having to preserve Grayson as a popsicle in her mom’s freezer for the rest of her life and of all the things Mallory can live with, that’s not one of them.
She scans Grayson’s texts: new messages from the names of friends, some of whom she remembers him talking about; ano-show notification for a dinner reservation on Saturday; six “where are you” variations from Heidi Hoffman; and a check-in from his mom. She has no idea if his mom is the type to be worried about him because she didn’t even know he had a mom. Well, obviously, of course he would have a mom, technically, but practically? They never talked about their families. AIM and sex and feeling free in a goddamn elevator, that was her relationship with Grayson. It had been enough.
Exiting his texts, she opens his email and addresses a new message to Heidi Hoffman. With the subject line...
Family emergency?Heidi Hoffman probably has Grayson’s family contacts and their medical histories down to their last bowel movements.
Health issue?Kidney stones or panic attack or nervous breakdown? Heidi Hoffman would scour every hospital and doctor in Boston.
Wellness retreat?But if that yoga and meditation setup in his penthouse was for show, then there will be zero buy-in here too.
Secret fling? Witness protection? Monkhood?
What would Mallory believe? What would be worth missing taking AIM public and an appearance on national television?
Unexpected and urgent business opportunity with tremendous potential. In this, Mallory and Grayson are the same. Nothing would stand in the way of the chance for bigger, greater, more lucrative success.
She reads the email over three times before hitting Send, then creates a generic out-of-office responder for both his email and his texts. The screen dims, signaling a power down that would sever any remaining tie to Grayson.
She could let it go, let it all end, right here and now. She could have no way of knowing the truth: if AIM is a lie here too.If this universe’s Mallory actually did have motive because this Grayson was also inflating the stock price. Ilena wanted to find out. To fix it. Same as in their world. She doesn’t understand.
Mallory was a child who wasn’t scared of monsters under the bed, who grew into a woman who doesn’t shriek at mice. But this? If Grayson was innocent here, if this AIM had reached two billion all on its own, then this Mallory hadn’t failed. This version of herself had done what she couldn’t.
With the phone dimming, Mallory hurries to open the auto-lock setting before the device goes to sleep. She isn’t ready to let go. But she’s also not ready to know the truth. So she simply turns off the auto-lock, which she can thankfully do without a passcode. She’ll have access to Grayson’s phone so long as she never shuts it off. All she has to do is keep it charged. Carefully, she places his phone in the cupholder, wishing she had Bubble Wrap.
