Footsteps sounded, and she turned. “Sylvia’s here,” she said into the phone. “I’ll call you back.” She ended the call and looked at Sylvia. “What did you do to him?”
Sylvia smirked. “Well, I didn’t do a thing. The man was inebriated, and I helped him to bed.” She marched toward Jonathan and touched her foot to his leg, jiggling it. He didn’t move. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
Riki cried out. “What?”
Sylvia raised a brow. “Calm down. It’s not like we’re going to have to roll him up in the bedcovers like a burrito and pitch his body off the pier. He’s not dead. Can’t you see his chest rising and falling?”
She looked down at him. “I guess I can now. It was just so scary to see him like this.”
“Well, he is dead asleep.” She moved so she was near his head and reached her hands below his shoulders. “Come on. You’re going to help me lift him back onto the bed. We can’t leave him here.”
Riki rushed to grab his legs. He muttered something, and her hands slid.
“Please, Riki. My wrist is literally going to break.”
“Right! Sorry.” She bent her knees before attempting to lift, the way she’d been taught to do at the gym, but he wouldn’t budge. “I think we’re going to have to wait for Brandon.”
“Concentrate. We can do this. On the count of three.” She counted, and they tried again. This time, they were able to deposit him back onto the bed, and Sylvia rolled him to his side. It was miraculous he didn’t wake up.
Riki rubbed her hands down her jeans. “What do we do now?”
Sylvia exhaled. “Leave him. I’ll check on him in the morning. And for all of our sakes, please don’t let him know you saw him like this. Who knows what he might think?”
“I won’t say a word,” she whispered. “Can we go now? I’m totally creeped out.”
“Don’t be. He just had too much to drink. It happens. Let’s leave him to sleep it off.”
Riki rushed out. It had started to drizzle, and she shivered as she let herself into her apartment.
Sylvia marched toward her apartment, attempting to crush her annoyance with each heavy step. Why couldn’t Jonathan just stay put and let her enjoy her victory? The fact that he’d fallen right off the edge of the bed was a little worrisome, but at least he’d stayed asleep. Now, he just needed to make it through the rest of the night. She opened her door to find Lily sitting at the kitchen table like a statue. There was no sign of Hugh. “He’s clearly not coming,” she said flatly. “And to be honest, I’d like to take a shower and get some rest. I’m exhausted.”
Lily turned her head slowly to look at her. “You seem like a smart woman. How is it that you didn’t know?”
Sylvia frowned. “I could ask you the same thing. How come you didn’t suspect anything?” Footsteps pounded the stairs, and she cursed under her breath. “What now?” A knock sounded, and Sylvia headed to the door. She startled as Lily suddenly flew past her.
Yanking the door open, Lily stepped onto the landing. “How could you, Hugh? How could you?” she shouted.
Sylvia watched from the doorway, a sick thrill rushing through her as she absorbed the pained look in Hugh’s eyes.
“What did I do? You told me you were here,” he said, his hands raised as though pleading his innocence.
She stepped forward, suddenly larger than life. “You’re lying! You had an affair, Hugh,” she said, jamming a finger at him to punctuate her words. “How’d you even know where Sylvia lives? I never gave you her address. You’re a liar!”
“It’s not like that. Let me explain.”
Well, this is interesting, Sylvia thought. How could he possibly worm his way out of this? She inched forward as Hugh stepped closer to Lily. He reached for her hand, and as if his touch were searing poison, Lily flung out her arm, knocking him away.
Hugh teetered backward, his arms flailing wildly. “Lily!” he screamed.
Her face was an eerie calm as she lifted her hand to help. Sylvia tried to make sense of her calculated movements. Everything was too slow. Move faster, she wanted to shout. It was as though time hurtled to a stop, only ticking to life again when Lily’s scream pierced the air—a shrill accompaniment to the sound of Hugh tumbling down the stairs like a crash-test dummy.
Ass over teakettle, Sylvia thought. He’d end up with more than