time. Tyler is always in her pictures.”
Tyler Yang was a heavily tattooed Korean British model who’d gained a reputation in the fashion world for the ease with which his style blurred gender boundaries. Rarely was he seen in something that wasn’t daring: Gucci floral suits, bespoke lace blouses, strings of antique pearls, pussybow shirts, heeled loafers. His eyes were always lined, his lids and lips slicked with a candy shop of bright pop colors.
Grey’s sexuality was a much discussed but ultimately unconfirmed topic of gossip. Was she dating this Victoria’s Secret Angel or that new Hollywood leading man? Vivi and I both knew that Grey was straight. It had always been men for her, the same way it had always been women for Vivi.
For me, it had always been both. My very first kiss had been with Justine Khan in the game of spin the bottle at Jennifer Weir’s sleepover. Her mouth had been soft and her perfume had smelled like lip gloss and vanilla frosting. It was supposed to be a bit of giggling fun, but it lit something inside me. A disco ball in my chest, an insistent hunger somewhere within me that made me want to thread my fingers through her then-short hair and press my hips against hers. It confirmed something about myself that I had suspected for a while. The kiss did something to Justine too—something strange and ugly. She kissed me again and again, hungry and insistent, until I tried to push her away and she forced me down, until she bit my lip so hard it burst and bled, until her fingernails raked claw marks into my arms and I had to start fighting her off, until all the girls who were watching us realized it wasn’t a game anymore and had to wrestle her, keening and frothing at the mouth, off me. The story had twisted over time, so now girls at school said I was the one who bit her; I was the one who wouldn’t let her go; I was the mad witch who’d tried to bite her face off.
It remained the less terrifying of the two kisses I had endured.
“There,” Vivi said, nodding toward the back wall.
Tyler was in a pink velvet booth wedged between a pop star and a supermodel. An ex–Disney teen star hovered nearby, trying to find her way into the conversation.
I could see why Grey liked Tyler: the bouffant of black hair tied in a knot at the crown of his skull, the strong line of his jaw, the muscles that moved beneath his tattoo sleeves. Tonight his brown eyes were rimmed with kohl, his lips shellacked with green lipstick. He wore a sheer lilac blouse and high waisted trousers, the kind men favored in the 1920s. The glowing Dom Pérignon label gave his skin an absinthine quality. The women were beautiful, but Tyler Yang was—like Grey—utterly striking. I licked my lips.
“Damn, is that who I think it is?” Vivi said, eyeing the supermodel. “The Victoria’s Secret Angel, right? I think she just broke up with her girlfriend.”
“Keep it in your pants,” I said. “We’re investigating our sister’s mysterious disappearance. This is no time for fraternizing.”
“Says the girl salivating over Tyler Yang. Said missing sister’s boyfriend.”
“I’m not salivating.”
“At least not with your mouth.”
“Gross.”
“Yet true.”
Tyler spotted us then. We made and held eye contact across the room.
“Uh . . . He does not look super pleased to see us,” Vivi said.
Tyler’s expression had fermented into vinegar. He was staring now, his eyes dark and jaw set. He raised a thin finger, curled it toward himself. Come.
“It appears we are being beckoned,” I said.
“Well, that’s all the invitation I need.” Vivi pushed past me and made a beeline for the model. Shameless. As we approached the table, however, Tyler had a quiet word with the women, and they rose and made their way toward the bar, two goddesses draped in starlight.
“No, why are they going away?” Vivi said, staring after the women as they glided through the crowd. My phone pinged in my hand. I glanced at the screen, but the message was from my mother, not Grey. Shit. In all the panic of trying to find Grey, I’d forgotten about my curfew.
Heading home soon, I messaged Cate, then I turned on airplane mode so she wouldn’t show up at the club to escort me home.
“Little Hollows,” Tyler said, looking from Vivi to me. “You have to be.”
“We’re Grey’s sisters,” I said as we sat.
“If she sent