“About what?”

“You know. You and me. Us. Before.”

“What’s there to say?” he demanded angrily.

“I don’t know. Never mind.”

Her heart sank. It must’ve showed on her face, because Dan’s expression softened noticeably.

The waitress came back. Dan ordered a cheeseburger and a beer, Melanie a club sandwich and a diet Coke, though she’d completely lost her appetite. Her stomach hurt, in fact.

“Hey, look,” Dan said after the waitress left, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

She didn’t say anything.

“All right, you wanna talk about us? Fine. The way I see it, I laid my cards on the table from day one. I told you how I felt. And you said you didn’t have room for me in your life. So I took you at your word and walked away. End of story.”

“I never said that,” she protested.

“You’re right. You actually said something much worse. You said you didn’t have room to fall in love, which told me you weren’t. In love with me, I mean. August twenty-seventh of this year. See, I even remember the date. Not too often a person gets kicked in the chest like that.”

Their eyes held, and so much meaning passed between them that Melanie could’ve sworn her whole life flashed before her eyes. The past and the future all wrapped up in one glance. She imagined herself much older, married to Dan, with grown sons who looked like him. Without fully intending to, she slid closer to him until their knees touched under the table. Dan’s legs were as solid and powerful as tree trunks.

“You still with your husband?” he asked quietly, holding her gaze.

“No. That’s over.”

As they stared at each other, Bridget Mulqueen suddenly materialized at the end of their table. Her squeaky voice shattered the moment as effectively as a car alarm on a moonlit night.

“Hey, you guys! You’ll never guess what happened. We almost did a controlled buy of fricking aspirin!”

Bridget smacked herself on the forehead comically with her open hand as she slid into the booth next to Dan. Trevor Leonard appeared and just stood there looking awkward. Melanie patted the seat beside her, and he sat down.

“Didja lose the buy money?” Dan asked, frowning.

“Naw, dude, I know what X looks like,” Trevor said proudly. “I put a stop to it before Detective Mulqueen handed over the dough. Can’t scam a scammer.”

“I knew it was fake, too!” Bridget protested.

The waitress set down their drinks. Bridget picked up Dan’s beer and took a big gulp, then realized what she’d done. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Dan said.

“I was just really parched. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” Bridget seemed on the verge of tears.

“Hey, kiddo, no big deal,” Dan said, patting Bridget’s leg. “Keep it. There’s more where that came from. Want something to eat? You look like you could use it.”

“Okay, sure.”

Bridget gazed at Dan a bit too adoringly for Melanie’s comfort. Though she knew Dan was simply acting like a decent human being, Melanie felt a sharp twinge of jealousy. This was getting out of hand. She’d better calm herself down and chill out about this guy. They had a case to do. A missing girl to find. She couldn’t afford to get all distracted with emotions. Emotions were bad for your concentration.

“Yeah, you guys should both order something,” Melanie made herself say. “But no alcohol, Trevor. Since you’re underage, drinking is a violation of your bail conditions.”

“Fill us in on what happened,” Dan said. “What were you doing negotiating for ecstasy anyway? You were supposed to buy heroin so we could test it against the decks from Whitney’s apartment.”

“Well, we were trying to get to Expo’s people,” Bridget said. “Looking for the two bodyguards. Trevor recognized the big black guy, see, so we approached him. We told him we wanted to score heroin, but he steered us to the Russian guy, who said he only had ecstasy. So we said okay, figuring we start with ecstasy and work our way up, right? The guy asks for the money up front, but I didn’t give it.” She hesitated, struggling over what to say next, but honesty won out. “I mean, okay, I might’ve given it to’m, but Trevor, like, shakes his head not to. Then the guy brings back some blue tablets, and Trevor scrapes at ’em and goes, ‘This shit is counterfeit.’”

“Oldest trick in the book,” Trevor said. “They take fucking Excedrin, put a coating on it, and mark it like X. I tried pulling that once myself to make some extra cash, but for all the work you gotta do to pull the scam, it’s not even worth it.”

“But still, I think we made some headway, right, Trev?” Bridget said.

“Yeah, ’cause afterward we catch up with the black dude, and I go, ‘Yo, your boy tried to rip me.’ And he goes, ‘Hakuna matata, it’s a little hot in here right now, son, but I’ll catch you on the rebound.’”

“What did he mean by that?” Melanie asked.

“You know, no worries, like he’d do me solid next time. Make it right. Hook me up with some mad H,” Trevor said.

“No, what I’m asking is, what did he mean by ‘it’s hot’?”

It was a question Melanie already knew the answer to. Anybody in law enforcement or with even a passing knowledge of the street knew what “hot” meant.

“That just means there’s cops around,” Trevor replied, his tone implying she was slow.

“Exactly,” Melanie said.

“What are you saying? That Esposito’s guys knew we were there working undercover?” Bridget asked.

“Well…” Melanie raised her eyebrows meaningfully and looked around the table at each of them. “They knew something.”

FABULOUS DEON SPOTTED Linda at the bar. “Well, hello again, honeychild. Thought I’d lost you,” he shouted over the music.

“I was hanging for a while with that guy Aidan who has that radio show, remember him?” Linda shouted back. She took a sip of her cocktail, pinkie extended.

“No, but you have so many men, how can one keep track?”

“Look who’s talking, D!”

“Are you joking? I am in such a dry spell, I swear I’m thinking about paying for it!”

“Never say that! You take too many risks,” she scolded.

“Ah, well, dearest, thank you for caring. But a person does need love.”

“Sex is what you’re talking about.”

“Semantics.”

“I’m gonna set you up with that lawyer I mentioned. The one who does work for the station? He’s nice, and he’s looking for a real relationship.”

“I’ll take a pass on that one. He sounds stupendously boring.”

“You could use a little boring, and fewer party boys. Besides, this guy has a house in Amagansett.”

“What good does that do me in December? Remind me next August, and maybe I’ll be interested.”

“Oh, look, D, Bettina Lloyd is over there! She just signed a major deal with Def Jam. I’m gonna see if I can score an interview. Catch you later.”

Linda pecked Deon on the cheek and floated off into the crowd. Deon sighed and ordered a double Macallan straight up. He tossed back the booze when it came, glancing around restlessly, thinking maybe he should just go home. What would hanging around Screen get him, except a few hours older and a few more ego-bruising rejections? If recent experience was any guide anyway. Maybe he should take Linda up on her offer and meet Mr. Stable-and-Boring. He was turning thirty-five next week, and the party scene, which still held sway over him with its high-voltage thrills, was not welcoming him with quite the same open arms it once had. The writing was on the wall, the bloom off the rose. People had grown tired of him. Pretty soon even dull old sugar daddies like Linda’s friend would look at him with indifferent eyes, so maybe he should set himself up while he still had the goods.

A completely hot young man wearing tight pants and a filmy wifebeater pushed his way up to the bar beside Deon and stood so close that their thighs touched in the tightly packed crowd. The boy had that look Deon went for every time-dusky-skinned, pouty-lipped, built. He ordered an expensive single-malt, then glanced back over his shoulder at Deon enticingly. Deon recognized the move. He’d used it to good effect himself, back in the day.