She opened her fingers. A silver ring glinted. He looked at it, at her.

“Daniel Hayes, will you stay married to me? Even though you don’t know who you are, and I’m dead?”

He looked at her, this woman he had lost and found and for whom he was risking losing everything again. Then he took the ring and slid it on his left hand. With its presence he was conscious suddenly of the absence that had been. A piece of himself, returned. He spun it on the finger. “I will.” Then he looked up and smiled. “So long as you don’t start to smell.”

5

They lingered as long as they could. There were a few others on the beach, but enough sand and distance separated them that they could pretend to be alone. The sun vanished and the sky darkened and the water turned from silver to slate. The wind never let up, and Daniel found himself thinking about how far it had come. All the way across the ocean, just to blow against them.

Finally, he couldn’t pretend any longer. “We—”

“I know.” She sighed. “Time to go.”

He rose, brushed the sand from his pants, held a hand down to

her. They walked up the beach together. When they made it to the sidewalk, Laney looked around, said, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom. No point dying with a full bladder. Hold my purse?”

“Sure.” He leaned against the low wall separating the parking lot from the beach. It never got truly dark in L.A., but he could see a few stars, and the wind felt so good that it was a pleasure just to sit here. To soak up every sensation.

“Ring, sweetie.”

It was a man’s voice, and familiar. Daniel whirled, looked behind him. No one.

“Ring, sweetie.”

The top edge of her purse was lit from within. Her cell phone. Someone was calling her. The voice was Robert Cameron’s. Her ring tone.

Who would be calling?

He reached into her purse and pulled out the phone. The display had no name, just a string of digits. Wrong number? He put a finger on the button to reject the call, then decided to let it ring through to voice mail on its own. The phone vibrated again, Robert Cameron spoke one more time, and then the call dropped, leaving the recent calls list on-screen, this number at the top of it, and below—

The world tilted. Daniel reached down with his other hand to steady himself. The wind knifed through his clothing. His throat tightened.

He looked up. She was still in the bathroom.

There was a roaring in his ears. He looked at the phone again, sure he must have imagined it.

Bennett

310-209-0415

Yesterday, 3:12 pm

Yesterday, 3:12. That would have been . . .

In the hotel.

Shortly after they’d made love. When she was taking her endless

bubble bath. The one he’d interrupted.

He’d opened the door, and almost leapt out of his skin to see her aiming the pistol at him. She’d been standing at the sink, still wet, skin flushed with heat. Her purse on the counter—

—and her cell phone beside it.

The screen was lit up. You didn’t notice at the time, not really, but some part of you did.

She had been talking to Bennett. And she’d lied to him about it. Lied and smiled and asked him to order her a salad.

That sudden mysterious errand, her “friend” that might be able to help . . .

The way she freaks out at any mention of the police . . .

The tiny hesitation that’s flickered in her eyes a dozen times . . .

The way she keeps wanting to pay Bennett off, despite everything . . .

Muted by the cinder-block walls, he heard the institutional roar of a flushing toilet. Daniel closed the call list. Grabbed her purse, stuffed the phone inside. He slid his sweating hands into his pockets. The wind had grown cold and smelled of rotting seaweed.

Laney came out of the bathroom shaking wet hands. Dynamite in a designer dress and mussed hair and a television smile. “Ready?”

Daniel looked at her. “As I’ll ever be.”

S

potlights crissed and crossed, searching fingers scraping the low bellies of purple clouds. It was eight-thirty, early by Los Angeles standards, but even so, the parking lot for Lux had a good crowd of cars. Bennett ignored the valet, rolled down the lane, found a spot near the exit, did a quick three-point turn to pull the Jaguar in facing forward. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles.

He pulled the Colt from his belt, locked the safety, tucked it beneath the front seat. From the duffel bag on the passenger seat, he took the cheaper of his camera bodies and attached a fixed 500mm lens. Though the shake was bad, it let him read a license plate across the lot. Good. He grabbed the parabolic and a pair of earbuds, and then started for the club.

Lux looked better at night. The gold paint shimmered and sparkled, some sort of metallic flecks in it. Not sophisticated, but it made for a nice backdrop to the red velvet rope line, and the oversized framed posters for the movie.

The line was still manageable at this hour. He stood behind a couple of shiny girls in short dresses, both of them posing and preening, pretending the cold wasn’t bothering their bare legs. Every time someone walked into the club, a bite-sized blast of music poured out.

“You press?” The bouncer’s chest strained the seams of his suit. “Freelance.”

The bouncer nodded, said, “Can you take off the camera and hand it to him, please? And that thing too. What is it?”

“It’s a microphone.” Bennett handed both to another bouncer, this one Hispanic but otherwise indistinguishable.

“I’ve done some work, never seen a mic like that. Raise your arms, please.” The bouncer ran a handheld metal detector up Bennett’s legs, around his back, down both arms.

“You’re an actor?”

“Mostly stunt work so far. I had a part in that last Tobey Maguire film.”

“Speaking?”

“Don’t you fucking move.”

“Huh?”

“That was my line. ‘Don’t you fucking move.’ I was Enforcer number two.” The metal detector beeped. “Lift your shirt, tilt out your belt?”

Bennett showed him the belt buckle, his belly behind it. The other bouncer took off the camera’s lens cap, peered through the viewfinder.

“Tobey and I hit it off, though. He’s going to use me in his next picture.”

“I bet he is, dumb fuck.”

“Huh?” The guy’s eyes narrowed.

“I said I bet he is. Good luck.” He smiled blandly. The bouncer shook his head, said, “Give the paparazzi his gear.” Bennett slung the camera, moved for the door. From behind, he heard the guy say, “And I better not catch you crashing the VIP. That’s invites only.”