The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller

by C. A. Wittman

  When Emma walked out of the elevator into the foyer, she didn't expect to see Mia. But there she was, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and eating a celery stick with chicken salad.

  Blue said her sister was always on a diet. Part of her appeal to so many men was her sleek physique. Mia's eyes widened when she saw Emma, and Emma froze. What was she doing home? She was supposed to be in the Maldives. Also, Emma had made it clear to Blue that she didn't want to see her sister.

  Mia set her food down and snatched up a napkin, wiping her long-nailed fingers. "Emma," she croaked. "What… what are you doing here?"

  "I invited her," Blue said from the living room. She breezed into the foyer and gave Emma a hug and kiss, her lips lingering too long against Emma's, who pulled away. Blue lifted her brows.

  "My sister's friend had a family emergency, so they had to cut their trip short. She got in really late last night, or more like super early this morning," Blue said, catching up Emma's hand.

  Mia said nothing, her blue eyes big and worried.

  "Come on," Blue said, giving Emma's hand a little tug.

  Once in her room, Emma crossed her arms. "What the hell are you doing?" She hissed. "I told you I didn't want to see your sister."

  "You did?" Blue looked surprised.

  "Yes, I…" Emma thought back. Had she actually said she didn't want to see Mia?

  "Look, she's the one who should scramble to make things right," Blue said, walking over to her bed and flopping down on her belly, bringing her legs up. "Mia fucked up. Not you."

  "That's not the point," Emma argued. "And this is her place. I can't just waltz in here, demanding an apology."

  "Who says you did? You're over as my friend. If Mia doesn't like it, she can fuck off." Hostility bristled out of Blue's dark eyes as she looked Emma up and down. Emma stood near the door. She hadn't made a move to come further into the room.

  "What's up with you?" Blue asked, lifting her chin. "You're salty as fuck since you got here." Some of the anger was leaving her face, and her eyes softened. "Actually, it's kind of hot," she said, using her sultry tone.

  Emma's heart started up double time and her palms felt clammy. When she said nothing, Blue adjusted her position to resting on her knees. "Is this about Donovan?" She asked, keeping her voice low.

  "I don't want to have sex with Donovan anymore," Emma blurted out.

  Blue was quiet for a moment. "Fine," she said and wrinkled her brow like she was trying to figure Emma out. "You don't have to. We thought it'd be fun. It's obvious you were crushing on him, and he felt the same about you. You seemed like you were having a good time."

  Emma's eyes watered, and she blinked, trying to hold back tears. "I was, kind of, but it was a lot, all at once. You know?"

  "Hey," Blue said, rising to a standing position and coming over to Emma. "I didn't know you weren't liking it." She put her arms around Emma's waist and gave her a hug. "It's your call. You don't have to have sex with anyone you don't want to."

  Emma sniffed, and Blue pulled away, gazing into her eyes. "I promise," she said. "I really like you, and if you're not into Donovan, it's totally cool."

  Emma nodded, wiping her eyes.

  "And speaking of the devil," Blue said with a wink, disengaging from Emma and walking over to her dresser. "He left this for you." She picked up an ID card and handed it to Emma. "Now we can go out, and you can tell your mom you're at your friend Cat's."

  "Cat's going to Europe," Emma said.

  "Oh. Tell her you're at Nisha's or Cassandra's. I'm sure they'll cover for you."

  Emma nodded again. Really, if she was honest with herself, she didn't want the fake ID. Emma didn't want to go out to clubs and party all night with Blue, Valentina, and Suri. She wanted to be a kid, doing kid things. Reading a novel at the beach with Nisha and Cassandra, going for bike rides, watching Netflix while drinking tea, and eating popcorn. She wanted to stroll around town with an ice cream cone and laugh about silly stuff. She wanted… Emma's mind wandered back to the night she went to Hunter's, sitting at the dinner table with Hunter and their moms, being part of a family meal. The love that radiated from Joanne and Henry as they laughed and chatted with Hunter, bringing Emma into their fold.

  Cat had that with her family. She used to have it more before that one fateful night when they overheard Brenda on the phone. Nisha had a bristly, teasing relationship with her mom, who worked a lot and was rarely home. And then there was Cassandra and her family. Her parents tried too hard to be perfect and obviously put a high premium on physical attractiveness. Emma thought about her own home life and realized for the first time how lonely she was. Friends surrounded her, but she was lonely. When was the last time she and her mom sat down to eat any meals together? Why was Jill so focused on the twins and barely available to her? Emma remembered when she used to be obsessed with her dad, the way he pampered her and made her feel special. All of that changed once her parents divorced and Oliver started standing her up. He'd make plans, then not show, always apologizing, always full of excuses.

  "Hello? Earth to Emma," Blue was saying.

  "What?"

  "I said, what do you think of the ID?"

  Emma ran her finger over the plastic. "It looks really authentic."

  "I know, right?" Blue said. Her phone pinged and she picked it up, frowning down at the screen. "Sorry." She glanced up at Emma. "Donovan's here. I'll just go down and talk to him in the lobby."

  "No." Emma caught Blue's arm. "It's fine. It'll just be awkward if he can't come up." She thought of Hunter and the stern expression on their face when they said Donovan had raped her. Did he, though? Donovan would have stopped if she'd spoken up. He'd thought she wanted to, and she'd gone along with everything. It was all a misunderstanding. Blue had thought she was doing Emma and Donovan a favor. Emma just needed to speak up next time. Be honest.

  Blue was tapping out a text.

  "Oh," she said. "He can't come up anyway. He only stopped by to drop off my ID. I guess I left it in his car." She grinned at Emma. "Be right back."

  "Okay."

  Blue slipped out the door, and, seconds later, there was a soft knock. Emma frowned, wondering why Blue was knocking on her own door. She opened it to find Mia, looking lost and crestfallen.

  "Hey," she said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Emma felt her heart start up again, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

  "Emma," Mia began and cleared her throat, her hands clasped, arms rigid in front of her body. "I'm so sorry about that night. It was really one of my lowest moments, and completely thoughtless. I just want you to know, um," she unclasped her hands and balled them into fists, holding her arms at her sides now. "I've stopped seeing Oliver, and I'm having second thoughts about my career as a, um," she licked her lips, making a wet sound. Emma felt a flood of heat to her face as she watched Mia. Mia took a breath and tilted her neck back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. A single tear rolled out from the side of her eye and down her cheek. "When I saw you," she began but couldn't finish. Emma swallowed, her throat growing tight. At that moment, her phone pinged, and she glanced down at the message from Blue.

  Give me 5 or 10

  "Emma," Mia tried again. "I think you're a great kid, and I think you should enjoy being a kid. You know what I mean?"

  Emma nodded.

  "I've been a fuck up with Blue—and our parents, too. When I started living this life… at first, it felt glamorous and fun…. and I was so nonchalant and careless about the whole thing with my younger sister. I led her to believe that it's all fun and games with this job, but it's not." She shook her head and made a face. "It's so not."

  "Do your parents know what you do?" Emma asked, feeling incredulous.

  "Oh." Mia's hands flew to her mouth, flashing long, light pink nails. "Heck no," she said. "They don't even know about this condo. They'd immediately be suspicious."

  "But what about when they come out here?"

  "I kept my old roo
m at my friend Kate's apartment. I still rent it out. She loves it because she has the whole place to herself. But when our parents are in town, me and Blue stay there."

  Emma tried to wrap her mind around the kind of money Mia must be making. Renting in LA wasn't cheap, but renting two places?

  "I guess what I'm trying to say," Mia said, "is I've exposed my sister to a life and world that she really shouldn't be a part of, and it's caused her to grow up faster than she should."

  "Why did you do it?" Emma asked.

  Mia's face paled. She looked as if someone had slapped her. "I don't know. I guess I was showing off in a way, really. I… wasn't thinking."

  "Like at my dad's?"

  Mia fell silent, two slashes of red streaking across her cheeks. "Just be careful," she said so low that Emma had to strain to hear her. "Blue's not always who you think she is." Mia turned and left, her words hanging over Emma like a big, black cloud. What did that mean? Emma wondered. Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket.

  A text from Hunter.

  So crazy. I opened my mailbox and found a letter from Poppy. It's postmarked May 7th. The same day she died. It must have gotten lost in the mail. Kind of nervous to read it. I'll call you later.

  Weird, Emma texted back. Wasn’t she found early in the morning?

  She wanted to text that it sounded ominous, but changed her mind. That would be insensitive. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she wondered what to say. Hunter was typing again.

  Yeah. But she could have mailed it the day before. I have a bad feeling. I'm too nervous to read it right now. Can I call you in half an hour and we can read it together?

  For sure

  I thought about asking Posie, but I don’t think she could take it right now. She’s really depressed.

  I’m here for you.

  Hunter sent a heart, and Emma sent them one back. The door to the bedroom opened, and Blue came in, looking triumphant, holding up her ID. "Let's go out later. Can you make a plan with one of your friends?"

  Emma put her phone back in her pocket, thinking.

  "What's up?" Blue asked, cocking her head.

  "Hunter just texted me. They got a letter in the mail from Poppy. They said the date is old, like it got lost in the mail. It’s postmarked the same day she committed suicide.”

  Blue's eyes widened. "That's creepy as fuck. What did the letter say?"

  Emma shrugged. "I don't know. They wanted to wait to read it. They're feeling nervous."

  "Yeah," Blue said. "I'd be, too." She fell quiet for a moment. "It's really awful what happened with those girls. Donovan never wants to talk about it. I think he was in love with Wren."

  Emma sat on Blue's bed, and Blue sat next to her, taking her hand. "Are you okay?" She asked gently.

  "Yeah. Just worried about Hunter and what's in that letter."

  "Understandable," Blue said. She squeezed Emma's hand harder, forcing Emma to look at her. In the next moment, they were kissing and fell back to a reclined position, breaking apart to stare into each other's eyes. Blue reached out a hand to trace Emma's cheek.

  "I need to freshen up," she said. "Be right back." She made to leave, and Emma pulled her back down. They shared another lingering kiss. Then Blue gave her one more firm kiss. "Right back. Two minutes," she said.

  Emma sighed and stretched as Blue went into the bathroom. She heard the water running and the door close. Five minutes later, Blue emerged, silky and fresh smelling, crawling back on the bed and unbuttoning Emma's jeans.

  "Hip huggers," she muttered. "Very nineties. You're just missing the thong straps."

  Emma made a face. "Gross."

  Blue laughed. A few minutes later, they were having sex. When Emma's phone rang, she was too far gone to answer it.

  An hour and a half later, Emma picked up her phone. There were two missed calls from Hunter and one from her mom. Jill had also sent a text.

  I've cleared my schedule. When can you come home? We need to talk.

  Blue hugged Emma from behind, chin propped on her shoulder, breasts pressed against her back as she placed little kisses all over the back of Emma's neck, giving her goosebumps.

  "Let's go out tonight," she whispered in Emma's ear.

  "I don't think I can. My mom wants me to come home."

  Blue released Emma and sat back. When Emma turned around, Blue was making a pouty face.

  "I should go home," Emma said.

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow? Maybe. I'm going out for breakfast with Cat and everyone. She's leaving in the evening for Europe."

  Blue rolled off her bed and grabbed an oversize T-shirt from her drawer, pulling it on. It fell just past her hips. "Are you going to call Hunter?" She asked.

  "Oh. Yeah."

  Emma tapped their name in the recent calls. It rang and then went to voicemail. Blue curled up next to her.

  "They're not picking up," Emma muttered.

  Call me, she texted.

  Blue leaned her head against Emma's shoulder. “I hope everything’s okay with Hunter.”

  “I’m going to see if they want to come by. We can look at the letter together. Talk about it. Whatever they need. Hunter’s so been there for me and now it’s my turn, you know.”

  Blue nodded. “You’re a good friend, Emma.”

  They kissed and Blue held up her index finger. "One more time," she breathed into Emma's ear.

  It was nearing seven when Emma picked up her phone and saw Hunter had tried to call again. She pulled up her Lyft app. She’d call them back on the ride home. Emma decided not to call Jill. She already knew her mom would pressure her to know exactly when she'd be home, demanding a specific time. Jill had called twice more, and Emma shot out a quick text.

  See you soon.

  When?

  She didn’t respond.

  “Tell Hunter, hi,” Blue said as she walked Emma to the foyer. Blue’s phone pinged in her hand and she glanced at the screen. “Oh. It’s Donovan.” She glanced at Emma, a flit of guilt in her eyes.

  “It’s fine,” Emma said. “Let’s not make this weird.”

  They gave each other a quick kiss and then Emma stepped in the elevator.

  In the Lyft, Emma tried Hunter for the third time.

  Voicemail.

  On my way home, she texted. Do you want to come by? Sorry we keep missing each other.

  A faint niggle of worry like a small worm wiggled through Emma's belly.

  They're fine. They're fine. They're fine. She told herself.

  Chapter 32

  The weather was hazy and fresh, the sun playing peekaboo as clouds moved across the sky. One moment the lighting was grey, the next golden, the air cool, then warm. Emma walked from her house to Broadway and 6th Street for the ten o'clock brunch at Blue Daisy, with Cat and her family and the rest of their crew. She'd ignored the catcalls of men and looked straight ahead, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Men acted like she owed them her attention because they found her beautiful. More often than not, if by herself, she was approached in a mildly aggressive manner, peppered with compliments and questions that always made her want to escape the brief interaction. The most common question asked was, do you have a boyfriend? One time, a man who was clearly in his fifties had sidled up to her at Sephora and asked if she liked horseback riding. Then there were all the fake modeling scouts and movie directors.

  There was a whole other way of navigating the world as a beautiful girl that Emma had never really given any thought to before. When she'd been invisible to boys and men, and even her own sex, the fantasy of being pretty had been just that, a fantasy. The reality of physical beauty, Emma discovered, was it created a kind of warped distortion in others' reaction to it and her. Emma realized she didn't have to be interesting, funny, engaging, or have something to offer. Her looks were a kind of currency that enabled and even entitled her to get all sorts of things, whether or not she deserved them. Last week, she'd approached a line at Target and a man h
ad smiled kindly, telling her she could go ahead of him.

  “Oh, no, I can wait,” she'd said.

  “There's a line,” the woman behind him had snapped.

  “She has one item,” the man growled at the woman and shook his head, then motioned at Emma again to go ahead. Uncomfortable, Emma had followed his prompting, knowing she didn't deserve to cut in line. The woman behind him only had two items, but she was middle-aged with a receding hairline and a thick belly. The kind of belly Emma used to have.

  Beauty encouraged the kindness of strangers, warm looks, smiles, and undeserved compliments.

  I could tell you were sharp.

  I could tell you were artistic just by looking at you.

  I knew you were going to be interesting.

  Three different strangers had made those comments in the past two weeks. A miniature chalkboard on the counter at a Starbucks with a trivial question of the week—What are “sad bois” known for?—had Emma blurting out the answer, draking, to Nisha. The young barista behind the counter had smiled and said, "you totally slayed that. I could tell you were sharp."

  Nisha had rolled her eyes.

  An impulsive reach for a package of colored drawing pens at a bookstore prompted a man who stood nearby to say, “I could tell you were artistic just by looking at you.”

  When Emma was waiting for her friends at Bloomingdales, reading a book, she'd been approached by a middle-aged man. He'd smiled at her and said, “I knew you were going to be interesting.” He'd then sat next to her, pretending interest in her beachy summer read by Nora Roberts.

  Emma clocked all of it, taking continuous mental snapshots of her post ugly life. None of these people would have given her the time of day before, and that was why it distorted everything. A gift and a curse. Beauty was the flower, society the bee. Society gathered her nectar until there was nothing left of her. Because, really, people didn't see the girl—they saw a facade, each person projecting their own sense of value on what was reflected back at them.