I held my hand out for him to fasten it around my wrist. There was no use in hiding the sparkle of triumph I felt. Ethan gave me one more indulgent smile before doing the same to Haley and excusing himself.
“Alright, I’m impressed.” Haley flicked her finger against her wristband. “That was pretty great.”
My heart was still pounding, and I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please. You played that guy hard. And the best part is that he knew he was getting played and did it, anyway. He was happy about it.”
I let out a laugh and we joined the crowd at the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah, he did. Couldn’t you see how much he wanted to do it?”
My smile faded as Gideon came to mind. I wished he was with me to witness that. Maybe he would understand why being in the Red Court was so easy. How grifting Ethan the intern was second nature to me. It was hard to dislike something you were so good at, but I was trying to keep my head above water this time, keeping my goal in mind. The Red Court wouldn’t pull me under again.
Gideon’s memory was a palate cleanser for my mind. I remembered that the friend standing next to me wasn’t Gideon. She was a lie.
“Where should we go first?” I asked when we stepped onto the second floor.
Haley was reaching for her phone and I watched as she typed in her password. Her lack of care at my seeing it told me all I needed to know about the likelihood of her leaving the phone with me. She didn’t look up until I cleared my throat loudly at her.
“What?”
“I asked where you wanted to go. Is something going on...” I left room for the unspoken words in my question: With the Red Court?
“It’s nothing.” Haley tossed her phone carelessly back into her bag. “I want to see the Warhol pieces they have on loan.”
She marched in the direction of the Modern & Contemporary Art wing, her gait easy but her shoulders tight. How did I not see before how hard she worked at not caring? Her demeanor was more curated than the art on display.
I gave Haley a bit of distance and stopped the first harassed-looking server with a tray of drinks that came my way. Someone already put out with other patrons was less likely to look at me twice. My hesitation nearly gave me away as she asked if I wanted red or white.
“Can’t we mix them together and make a rosé?” I asked as a joke.
Nothing.
“I’ll take one of each, thanks.”
Following in Haley’s direction, I reviewed my plan. Haley needed to either give me her phone or leave it unattended for long enough that I could check it. The bathroom seemed the most logical way to separate her from her bag, but that was a long shot.
One of the special collections rooms was set up with a black curtain draped in front of the door and a couple of museum staff and security guards stationed at the entrance. I wedged myself in with the crowd slowly trickling their way into the room.
“What’s this?” I asked the man in front of me. He wore a patterned shirt buttoned all the way up to the neck and thick black glasses that he pushed back up his nose.
“The museum has some of Picasso’s sketchbooks on loan from Paris. They aren’t open to the public to view yet, but they’re giving us a sneak preview for the next half hour. This alone is worth the price of the ticket.”
I made a noise of agreement, but my eyes caught on the museum staff at the front of the line. They were collecting bags and phones and offering claim tickets in return.
“They’re not letting us bring in our stuff?”
“No, and I really wanted to get something for my Instagram story about tonight.” His disappointment was almost laughable, but I gave him an enthusiastic nod.
I stepped out of line and went to find Haley. If I had only thirty minutes to get her into the exhibit sans bag, I had to hustle.
“There you are!” I practically shouted when I located her on a bench across from what were presumably the Warhol pieces she’d mentioned.
Haley was a charcoal smudge against the bright canvas of white walls and warm-honey wood floors, and yet she fit in the space so naturally. Perhaps it was how at ease she seemed from just a few minutes ago, like she belonged there. I still knew so little about her—apart from her biggest secret—and I’d never seen her expression so open. It was easy to forget art was her passion when plotting her downfall.
“I’ve been waiting right here. Must have lost each other in the crowd.”
I held out the two glasses of wine for her to pick her poison. She regarded them carefully and took the red. “I don’t actually drink, but I’m guessing having something in my hand will help me blend in better, right?”
“You don’t drink at all?” I wasn’t much of a drinker, either, but she was correct. The whole goal of my clothes and the wristband was to look just like everyone else.
“No, not since...” she trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
The reference had to be to her stepdad. My instinct to exploit this weak spot for information was difficult to ignore. I wanted to peel her words back and look deeper, but I couldn’t risk pushing her away, so I let it go.
“Are you picturing your own work on the walls? Visualization really works for me when I’m preparing for a track meet.” I pointed to a bare patch of wall. “That really pretty blue-and-green piece that you have in your room would look amazing right there.”
Haley looked down, still not comfortable with open praise. “Thanks for bringing me. You’d be a good friend.”
It was my turn to look away. I was no one’s friend and it had to stay that way.
“Oh!” I said as if a thought had just occurred to me. “I was held up because there’s a big crowd waiting to get into an exhibit that’s not open to the public yet. I guess they have some Picasso sketchbooks on display for the next twenty minutes or so? Did you know that?” I let my words hang in the air and hoped they’d be enough to lure Haley to the exhibit.
Haley stood abruptly. “We should go check it out.”
I waved a disinterested hand. “I’ll walk over there with you, but there’s a ton of people cramming into a tiny room. I don’t want to see them that badly.”
She gave me a look, but it was more tolerant than suspicious. Careful to seem caught up in all the splendor of the night, I gathered a few appetizers from the trays floating around and shadowed Haley’s progress toward the Picasso exhibit.
The mezzanine that overlooked the atrium was packed with a crowd jostling into the small space, salivating at the chance to see the sketchbooks before anyone else. I found a small slice of unoccupied balcony and planted my back firmly against the railing to wait. Haley anxiously surveyed the crowd and tried to time her entrance into the fray, but I caught her eye and waved her over.