Chapter Four #2
‘On the surface, sure, I guess they were content, and maybe there’s nothing wrong with that.
It just seemed so …’ I grasp at the air.
‘Empty. Like, there was no bigger picture. They just wanted to be the same as everyone else. There was nothing exciting. There was no—’ I pinch my fingers. I can’t find the word.
‘Ambition? Curiosity? Vision?’
‘That!’ I lean back, laughing with relief. ‘It was all about playing it safe. I think they felt like ambition was tacky. Uniqueness was tacky. And wanting too much was embarrassing.’
‘So what’s your vision? What does Margot want?’
Suddenly I feel shy. It would sound silly to say that my greatest ambition is to find my forever partner and open a nonprofit coffee shop. It sounds … naive, I guess. Both too small and too impossible.
‘I guess I’m still figuring that out.’ I cut into the fish and take the first bite. Mmm. Flaky, buttery dill perfection.
Next, Liam asks me about work, and as we eat, I find myself telling him about my first week as a body collector.
I make him laugh half a dozen times, which makes me feel like the job isn’t just this very weird and slightly suspicious life choice, but something that makes me interesting.
Then, bolstered by my success at making my life sound so amusing, I number off my odd assortment of post-college jobs – telemarketer, dogwalker, nanny, receptionist for a dentist. I tell a funny story about a dental cleaning during which the hygienist discovered that a seed lodged in the patient’s teeth had actually sprouted.
Liam’s jaw drops, which is immensely gratifying.
I don’t even get insecure about how directionless my chaotic job history makes me sound.
‘Dogs, kids, teeth and corpses,’ Liam says with humor but also admiration as he dabs his lips with a napkin. ‘You’ve lived a lot in the four years since you graduated.’
‘You have no idea,’ I say with mock ruefulness.
Our plates are somehow empty. Damn – how long have I been talking? Liam makes it so easy to open up. What the hell, maybe I should tell him about Zoe too …
Too soon! says a voice in my head.
‘But – I’ve been talking forever!’ I exclaim instead. ‘Your turn! What do you do? Besides dabbling in art collecting?’
‘I’m afraid my job stories are nowhere near as interesting as yours,’ says Liam with a self-deprecating laugh.
‘Fair,’ I concede. And, you know? After Brian’s endless job-related anecdotes, Liam gets points for not going there.
There’s a brief silence. I guess the date is winding down. I should check the time. I reach into my purse for my phone. ‘Should we, uh, get the check?’
‘Sure,’ says Liam, flagging our server. ‘But I’m not ready to call it a night. If that’s OK with you. There’s a bar near by – want to get drinks? No pressure.’
I glance at my double Margarita Kong, which is somehow also gone, the merest puddle of pale pink liquid pooling in the crux of the glass. My head feels woozy, but in a nice way.
‘Let’s do it.’
He pays, – God that’s nice, isn’t it? – and we head out, his hand a whisper at the small of my back, guiding me out of the restaurant.
When I stumble on the sidewalk, he puts an arm around me.
I lean into him just a little. George is right.
I’ve been missing out. This is exactly what I needed.
I’m totally ready to rejoin the dating world!
Already, I can imagine Liam as my date to George’s wedding.
The bar Liam has in mind is just a block down. He pushes the door open and immediately, music thumps in the air. The place is crowded and warm, the lights low, the atmosphere sizzling with energy. We head to the bar.
‘Tequila shots?’ he asks, and I nod as he calls for the bartender.
I slip off my denim shirt and tie it around my waist while the bartender pours our shots.
We toss back the tequila, and then he’s leading me to the dance floor full of people.
It’s hot, smells like sweat, beer, humanity – and I’m kind of loving it.
I haven’t danced in ages, but my body finds the rhythm no problem.
My head is in a delightfully mushy space.
Liam is cool on the dance floor, his moves minimal and coordinated, his eyes on me, always on me. It’s intoxicating.
‘Sometimes I compare people to fish!’ I find myself saying.
‘Sorry – what?’
‘Fish!’ I shout over the music. ‘I match people with their fish selves! I think you might be a guppy!’
‘Is that a good thing?’
I laugh. ‘Yes! They’re very peaceful! They get along with other fish!’
‘I’m … honored?’ He looks confused, but in a cute, amused way.
‘My point is, I like you!’
‘You’re pretty neat yourself!’ he shouts back with a teasing grin.
‘Hey, do you collect ceramic squirrels? By chance?’
He laughs, throwing his head back. ‘No! But I do collect coasters! I have about a hundred, from all different cities—’
I laugh too. ‘That’s so awesome! I really love that you do that!’
‘I think it’s actually kind of weird!’
‘I love weird!’
Oh God, I’m actually pretty freaking drunk.
We’re swaying together, his hands now on my shoulders, my hips doing things my hips don’t normally do and suddenly I’m pressed up against him.
I’ve never in my life had sex in a public place, but in this moment, all I can think of is dragging him to the back of the bar, finding a restroom and bending over the sink.
My naughty, naughty mind removes Liam’s pants – then removes his shirt for good measure even though he’d likely leave it on in this scenario – oooh I bet his biceps are just as nice as his forearms—
‘Do you have any tattoos?’ I shout, because why not make the picture in my head as accurate as possible.
‘Just one.’
‘What is it, and where is it?’
He says something I can’t understand at all.
‘Huh?’
He leans down, his face close to mine, his breath warm on the side of my neck. ‘Nil Sine Numine.’
‘That sounds like Latin!’
‘It is. “Nothing without Providence.”’ He pulls back a little, and his eyes lock with mine. His mouth curves a little. His expression is warm. Inviting. ‘It’s on my hip.’
I might swoon. My voice is low. I brush my lips against his ear. ‘Which hip?’
He takes my hand and puts it on his hip. Leans back in. ‘Right about … there.’
‘Oh,’ I say, feeling the line the waistband of his pants makes. My heart skips a beat. Heat rushes through me. And then a voice seems to whisper in my ear.
Sexy tattoo. It’s Zoe’s voice, suddenly pressing close … in fucking Latin.
Zoe’s words, describing the guy she was about to go on a date with the night she disappeared.
Oh, shit.
But also, five million people live in Cook County. Surely a ton of them have tattoos in Latin.
Zoe keeps whispering. Grew up here.
Just like Liam.
College educated. Northwestern—
My pulse roars in my ears.
Is this the man who lured my friend to her death?
My voice comes out surprisingly strident, demanding.
‘Where’d you go to school?’
‘Sorry – what?’
‘College! Where’d you go to college?’
‘Northwestern. Why?’
Suddenly it’s like the fog drops away.
It’s not just the tattoo and where he went to school. Up until five minutes ago, this was by all standards the perfect blind date. Now? A big red flag is waving furiously.
All those nice things – the toast to the ‘intriguing woman’ – the way he got me to open up – that had to be rehearsed—
And the margarita.
I didn’t order it – he did. He knew the server by name – because they must know each other. This must be where he takes the girls. He gets them drunk, brings them here and then—
Zoe’s breath, hot in my ear.
Girl, you better run.
I shove Liam with a loud cry.
‘Margot—’ He reaches for my elbow, probably imagining I stumbled.
‘Get off me!’ I shout, wrenching my arm away.
I bolt. Pushing through the crowd, people yelping as I knock into them, drinks spilling, shouts following me—
I burst out into the night air. But I’m not safe yet – I’ve got to get away – there’s a taxi, and someone is just climbing out.
‘Hey!’ I cry, flinging up my arm. No time to wait for the bus. I dive in.
‘Where to, ma’am?’ says the driver.
‘Just go!’ I cry, and sure enough, as we squeal away from the curb, Liam bursts out of the bar, obviously panting, his eyes scanning. For a second, our eyes meet, and then the cab accelerates, and he’s gone.
Safe.
For now.
Because I’m pretty sure I just went on a date with my best friend’s killer.