City of Mirrors by Melodie Johnson-Howe Page B

“How’s your friend Celia?” His long thick lashes, which most women would kill for, shaded his eyes.
    â€œShe’s okay.”
    â€œI know.”
    I looked sharply at him. “Know what?”
    â€œAbout her and Robert.”
    â€œHow did you find out?”
    â€œI began to listen to people. It’s amazing when you stop trying to be important and just listen to what people are really saying. Not all the bullshit. It’s amazing how many secrets you can pick up.”
    â€œHave you talked to your parents about Celia?”
    â€œWhy? They never mention her to me. They had no problem telling me Robert wasn’t my real father. That my real father raped my mother. And she’s created a name for herself fighting for rape victims and their unwanted children. I’m her poster boy. But they couldn’t admit Robert’s had a mistress for ten years? It was like I was the only one in the universe who didn’t know. I felt like such a loser.” He glared up at the stars poking through the night sky, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes.
    â€œYou’re not a loser. Nobody wants to hurt anybody, Ben. Or be hurt. And they certainly didn’t want to hurt you.”
    â€œWhy didn’t my parents just get divorced?” he blurted, sounding like a teenager.
    â€œMoney.”
    Surprised at my frankness, he burst out laughing, staggering slightly. “You are soooo cool. You’re not like the rest of them. You say what’s on your mind.” He wagged a finger at me. “You’ll never get ahead that way in this town.”
    I smiled. “Of course there’s the possibility that despite everything they still love each other and you.”
    â€œNow you don’t sound like the cool Diana.” His expression clouded. “Maybe I don’t want to be loved by them. Nobody’s thought of that, have they?” Pausing, he moved closer. “I’ve always wanted to say this to you. But don’t get all uptight. It’s a compliment.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWatching your earlier films when I was young got me through my adolescence. You were soooo sexy.” His breath was hot and moist against my check.
    I laughed. “Glad to be of help.”
    Below us on the lawn the caterers rolled out a big birthday cake with twenty-one candles ablaze. My heart sank for Ben. Robert had finally appeared and stood hand in hand with Gwyn. They both extended their arms toward him, beckoning him like two divas competing for the same audience of one.
    â€œThis is so fucked.” Quickly, he grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to him. With the urn wedged awkwardly between us, he kissed me hard on the lips. Whispering in my ear, he said, “I just wanted to kiss a woman Robert hasn’t had. He hasn’t, has he?”
    â€œNo,” I whispered back.
    From the lawn, Gwyn stared up at me as Ben lurched down the stairs and across to where they were waiting. By the accusing look on her face, I knew Gwyn had seen the kiss. Misunderstood it. The family and many of the guests followed the cake into the tent. The rap music stopped.
    To the dissonant sound of off-key voices singing “Happy Birthday,” I stood alone, haunted by Ben’s question: Who would want to murder Jenny? Then I caught sight of Ryan Johns sneaking across the lawn with the Blond Sliver at his side. They paused at the guesthouse door, he spoke to her, and she tossed her head back and giggled. Then he quickly shoved her inside, closing the door behind them. Christ, he wanted me to drive him home.
    When the birthday song ended, there was quiet for a brief moment, and then a man’s voice speaking in a low firm tone floated up to me from the patio below. I peered over the balustrade and saw Heath, who “got things done” for Zaitlin. I watched him talk importantly on his BlackBerry, at ease with the power of his body. Had he thought that Celia needed to “get