“I’ll brew some coffee,” Layla said, as Mateo followed her into the kitchen.
THIRTY-THREEUPTOWN FUNK
Trena Moretti followed the Road to Hollywood as she made her way through the Hollywood & Highland shopping center. Funny how she’d made plenty of previous visits but had never taken the time to read the individual stories.
The mosaic trail was a collection of tales of how the famous and not so famous came to Hollywood to fulfill their dream of working in the industry. Some of the stories were funny, some were heartbreaking, and others—like the one about a famous director telling an actress she was too fat to work in the United States—were downright maddening. Trena was so engrossed in reading them she’d followed the trail all the way to the tiled chaise lounge that overlooked the Hollywood sign before she realized she was late for her meeting.
Luckily, Starbucks was nearby, so she wandered over and waited for the person who went by the name @LuckyHearts16 to find her. A large pair of dark sunglasses covered her face, but Trena was confident her wild bronze-tinged curls were easily recognizable.
It wasn’t long before someone called her name and Trena looked up to find a pretty young girl, probably in her mid-teens, striding toward her. She was tall, skinny to the point of gawky. In her denim shorts and black tank top, her pale, gangly limbs appeared especially vulnerable under the harsh glare of the sun. At first sight, the girl seemed an awkward arrangement of angles and bones. But as she drew near, Trena had no doubt she’d soon blossom into a formidable beauty.
“You’re Trena Moretti, right?” The girl smiled nervously.
“And you are?”
The girl fidgeted, shifting her weight from one well-worn Converse to the other. “Just—let’s leave it at LuckyHearts16, or maybe Lucky for short.”
Trena nodded agreeably.
“So, where should we do this?” The girl looked around. She seemed agitated, on edge. Trena took it as a good sign. It gave her the upper hand.
“Why don’t we just grab one of these chairs?” Trena smiled gently, wanting the girl to know there was nothing to fear.
Funny how they were always so different in person. In her texts, the girl had been brazen, bordering on rude, in her eagerness to meet. But now she acted skittish, almost meek. Celebrity often had that effect. People would throw endless amounts of shade online, but once they were face-to-face, all they wanted was a little acknowledgment and a selfie to share with their friends.
“Sorry I’m so nervous.” The girl swept her long brown hair over her shoulder. “It’s just . . . I’m a really big fan.”
“And Madison?” Trena crossed her legs and rested her hands on her lap. “Were you a fan of hers too?”
The girl lifted her shoulders and quirked her mouth to the side. “I was. But after reading those diary entries, I realized she’s just a big liar. How do you get used to it?” She blinked from under a thick fringe of chestnut-colored bangs.
The question left Trena confused, wondering if the girl was asking how she got used to people lying, or how she got used to being a liar.
Reading Trena’s expression, the girl leaned forward and whispered, “Being famous, I mean. Having everyone watch you all the time. Isn’t it weird?”
Trena leaned against the backrest and stifled a laugh. This coming from the most over-photographed, over-documented generation the world had yet seen. “I ignore it.” She pretended as though she hadn’t been the least bit aware of the whispering, head turning, and scrutiny happening all around her. A few beats later she said, “So, Lucky—you have something for me?”
The girl slouched low in her seat and shot a furtive look all around.
“Relax.” Trena leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s arm. “It’s not like we’re conducting a drug deal.”
The girl let out a short, startling laugh that immediately sent her cheeks flaming. Taking a few controlled breaths to collect herself, she said, “Okay, here’s the thing: You watched the video, right?”
Trena was losing patience. “I think that’s why we’re both here.”
“Right. So, anyway, do you think she did it?”
Trena was taken aback. She had no idea what the girl was getting at. “Do I think who did what?” She spoke the words slowly.
“The girl! In the video!” Lucky leaned closer and lowered her voice so much that Trena strained to hear. “Do you think she did it? Do you think she killed Madison? I mean, she had the earring and all, so . . . it’s possible, right?”
Trena was stunned. She’d thought for sure the girl had come to the same conclusion as she had—that the blond in the video was Madison in disguise. Quickly, she rerouted all the responses she’d planned.
“Thing is, I really don’t want to get dragged into it, see? I mean, if she did do it, if she did kill Madison, well, I wasn’t even supposed to be anywhere near Night for Night. I told my parents I was at the library studying for a history exam. But now, if I get pulled into court or something because of the video . . .” She shook her head and bit down on her lip as though she couldn’t imagine anything worse than her parents discovering she’d lied to them.
Trena paused long enough to carefully frame a reply. What a gift this was turning out to be.
“I can keep your name out of it,” Trena assured her. “I give you my word.”
Lucky stared as though trying to determine if that was good enough for her.
“I see no reason for you to get involved,” Trena continued. “As a journalist, it’s my right to keep my sources anonymous.”
It must’ve worked, because the girl slipped a hand inside her bag and retrieved a small object she pushed across the table toward Trena.
It was round, wrapped in tissue, but from what Trena could tell, it had all the familiar
