Chapter 27
Kale Me Maybe Juice Bar, Santa Monica Blvd, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
The next day, I leave Antoinette doing whatever she’s doing on her iPad and I go off to meet Travis for a catch-up on how he’s getting on with his hunt for Aidan Ward. I might have agreed to look for the WeHo Ripper but I can’t lose sight of the reason I came here. Revenge.
Travis is sitting at the exact same table as he was the first time we met when I get to the juice bar.
He looks up when I walk in and gives me a big smile.
‘Mary-Kate,’ he says, his eyes twinkling in a way that should make me feel things. I don’t. ‘You’re looking well.’
‘Thank you,’ I say as I pull out the chair opposite and flop down into it.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
I look at the juice in front of Travis. It’s green and looks like it’s oozing with health. Like something I should definitely be drinking.
‘I’ll have one of what you’re having,’ I say. ‘Whatever it is.’
‘Kale and beetroot with added collagen,’ Travis says with a megawatt smile. It sounds awful and it looks like he knows this.
‘Great,’ I lie.
Travis hops up and begins an easy conversation with the woman behind the bar who is so young and pretty that she probably bathes in this stuff as well as drinks it. She’s the perfect advertisement for this place. Two minutes later he slides back into his seat.
‘She’ll bring it over,’ he says.
‘Can’t wait.’
He gives me a look like he knows I’m lying but is amused by it.
‘So,’ I say, ‘what have you found?’
Travis gives a quick nod and glances down at his laptop, as if he’s activating business mode.
‘Yes, of course, right,’ he says and clears his throat with a little cough.
‘A couple of things that I wanted to show you.’ He reaches down and pulls a brown envelope out of the satchel at his feet.
‘I’ve printed out a few pictures of men I thought could be potentials,’ he says, handing me the envelope.
I take it and slide the photos out, suddenly feeling like I’m in some old movie about a private detective.
The envelope and actual tangible photos feel very retro.
‘They’re all British men who have arrived in LA in the past month,’ Travis is saying. ‘I tried to narrow it down to the, um, vague description you gave me. They’re all in the right age bracket. I think. It’s sort of hard to know out here.’
I run my fingers over the photos. There are about a dozen of them in total and I flip through them, poring over the images, which look like they’ve been taken with a long lens.
‘How did you get these photos?’ I ask. ‘You know, without being spotted.’
Travis gives a one-shouldered shrug. ‘I used to be a pap,’ he says. ‘You know, a paparazzi photographer. You get good at it.’
‘Why did you stop?’
‘Oh, you know, money. Work dried up the moment everyone had a camera and wifi connection in the palms of their hands.’
He takes a sip of his drink just as the server comes over with a glass, which she plonks unceremoniously in front of me.
She gives me a cold stare but dials up warmth when she directs a smile towards Travis.
I notice some of the green concoction has slopped onto the table and has made a little puddle under my glass.
‘Is she always so friendly?’ I ask Travis as the server slopes off.
He lowers his gaze, looks embarrassed. ‘We dated for a bit,’ he says.
‘Ah that explains the service with a snarl,’ I say. ‘She thinks we’ve got something going on?’
‘I might not have completely disclosed that you’re a client,’ Travis says, having the grace to look a bit sheepish. ‘My bad. I’ll put her straight.’
‘No biggie,’ I say. ‘I’m not the one who has to clear up the drink she spilled. I suppose I should just be grateful it’s not in my lap.’
Travis gives a nervous laugh. ‘Sorry about that.’
I turn my attention back to the photographs in my hand and begin to sift through them.
They’re all men who look to be in their early thirties, wearing band T-shirts and glasses, that chaotic professor aesthetic thing that Aidan Ward had going on.
They’re in varying degrees of beardyness, all with messy, slightly too long hair.
All very Aidan Ward coded. Yet none of them are him.
My heart drops into my Saint Laurent Tribute platforms. I wasn’t really expecting Travis to have tracked him down already, not really.
But there was a tiny part of me that was hoping.
It really is the hope that kills you.
I shake my head and hand the photos back to Travis. ‘No,’ I say. ‘None of those men are Aidan Ward.’
Travis gives a single nod. ‘Sorry,’ he says.
‘That’s okay, thank you for trying.’
He shrugs. ‘No probs. It’s literally my job. You want me to keep looking?’
‘Of course,’ I say. Travis isn’t cheap but I’ve got very deep pockets and I’m more than prepared to keep paying until he finds him.
‘Then I will.’ He smiles and fiddles with a napkin on the table. ‘Actually, there was something else I wanted to ask you.’
‘Okay,’ I say, intrigued. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Right, yes.’ He clears his throat again. ‘So, first of all I don’t want you to get the idea that I do this kind of thing a lot. Because, obviously, you’re a client and it’s a bit creepy now I’m saying it out loud.’
This doesn’t sound good.
Has Travis found out something?
Something about me?
Something I would really quite like to keep hidden?
Something like the number of dead men in my past?
But no, it couldn’t be that, could it?
Surely he’s not that good a detective. He’d have found Aidan Ward by now if he was.
And we wouldn’t be sitting here making jokes over gross green juice if he knew.
Would he?
‘Anyway,’ he’s saying now, ‘I know it’s unprofessional. But I looked on your socials and I saw that you’re single. And, um, I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink. With me. Obviously.’
Oh.
Well.
I suppose Antoinette did call this one.
‘Oh,’ I say.
His face falls and he gives an awkward laugh. ‘I’ll be honest, Kitty,’ he says. ‘That wasn’t the response I was hoping for.’
I don’t know what to say.
I mean, Travis is objectively hot and everything. I just don’t want to go on a date with him.
I don’t want to go on a date with anyone.
I only want Charlie.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m not really dating at the moment.’
He looks crestfallen. ‘That’s disappointing,’ he says. ‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you?’
I shake my head. ‘Sorry,’ I say again, although it doesn’t actually make any sense that I am apologising for saying no to a date I don’t want to go on.
Why are women conditioned to be sorry for everything all the time?
‘I’ve only recently broken up with someone and I’m just not looking for anything right now. It’s nothing personal. Promise.’
Although it is quite personal.
He’s not Charlie.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ he says. ‘And sorry to put you in an awkward position.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry about it. Gotta shoot your shot.’
He smiles and looks so handsome I almost change my mind. Almost. ‘And you don’t think I’m horribly unprofessional and creepy? I feel a bit creepy. Please don’t put it on Yelp.’
I laugh.
He’s cute and funny.
It’s such a shame that I seem to have died inside.
‘I promise,’ I say as I gather up my things. ‘Let me know when you’ve found anything about Aidan Ward.’
I swing my bag over my shoulder but as I do, it hits the glass of swamp-water, sending it flying. Travis yelps as the majority of it lands in his lap. I stare in horror as a puddle of green appears on the crotch of his cream chino shorts.
He jumps up.
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ I say, grabbing a handful of napkins and thrusting them at him.
‘First you reject me and then you throw a drink at me,’ Travis says, but he sounds more amused than annoyed. ‘I think I get the message at this point.’
He takes the napkins from me.
‘Sorry,’ I murmur again. ‘Do you need any help?’
He looks up at me. ‘I think I’ve got this.’
The waitress is on her way over too with another wad of napkins. She gives me a glare, which I take as my cue to leave.
Outside, I look back in through the window. The waitress is dabbing at the stain on Travis’s trousers and they’re both laughing.
Any guilt about saying no to the date dissipates.
I think he’ll be just fine.