"Ray?"

"She does Ray for a living."

A moment of silence passes before it seems to strike her what I'm saying. She gasps, shoving against me. "Really?"

Laughing, I shrug a shoulder. "He pays her bills and gives her an allowance in exchange for being at his beck and call. She doesn't have to work, since Ray takes care of her. And before Ray, there were other men… one, I assume, being Mr. Carmichael."

"You mean she, uh… that she's a…"

She can't even say the word.

"She's a professional girlfriend," I say, choosing the nicest of the terms. I'd usually call her a whore, but I'm not in the business of offending Karissa's potential friends. I have nothing against Brandy, per se. I barely know her, have no interest in knowing her, but Ray trusts the girl for some inexplicable reason, so she can't be too terrible. After all, it might help Karissa to befriend someone connected to the life, and maybe it'll help Ray come around to my side of things. Ray's a sucker for his Baby Doll. If she likes Karissa, Ray will be more likely to warm up to her himself.

"But she seems so… sweet," Karissa says incredulously. "I mean, I knew she was with Ray and all, and that he's, well… and she's his, you know… but I thought what they had was genuine."

"It is," I reply. "We do what we have to do to survive, Karissa. Ray won't marry her, but it doesn't mean he won't give her a good life. And they're not alone. Men like Ray view wives as obligations. They're possessions. They treat them like work, like it's their job to care for them. Ray probably fucks his wife once a month, if that, but he's with Brandy almost every night. Because Brandy is where he wants to be. She's not an obligation. She's his happiness."

"He can't find happiness with his wife?"

"Ray? No. I'm sure it was possible at the beginning, but not anymore. They don't even like each other."

"But you're not like that, right? You wouldn't…"

"No, I wouldn't. I've told you before—I'm not interested in anyone else."

"But you might be someday," she says. "What if you wake up one day and don't like me anymore?"

"I don't know, Karissa. You tell me." I cock an eyebrow at her. "How does it feel to be stuck with somebody you don't like?"

She glares at me. "I wouldn't know."

"You wouldn't?"

"I like you," she says, hesitating before adding, "most days, anyway."

"Good to know." I pull her to me again. "And me not liking you is improbable, Karissa. Sure, sometimes you can be frustrating, but you keep life interesting, that's for certain."

She relaxes against me, sighing. "It's so weird to me. Like, even Melody's dad is like that? He's a freaking businessman. She said her parents are perfect together."

"Perfection doesn't exist," I reply. "It's a mask people wear to conceal their ugly truths. Never trust someone who only ever smiles at you."

She's quiet for a beat. "Ray only ever smiles at me."

I kiss the top of her head. "Exactly."

"Next customer down here!"

The voice is loud and impatient, not the sort of friendly customer service one would want in a place like this. I step up to the counter, seeing the boy's annoyed expression as he glares down at the register, wearing a puke-green colored apron. He senses my presence and grumbles, "what do you want?"

"Depends on what you can get me."

He glances up, his annoyed expression growing, but he freezes when he catches my eye. I wondered if he would recognize me, considering we've only met once, but his wide eyes tell me he does. "Uh, hey… Ignazio, right?"

"Right."

Paul stares at me, contemplating, before clearing his throat and looking back down at the register. "So what can I get for you?"

"I want what you gave my fiancée."

He hesitates, eyes flickering to me again. I can see his concern, the expression all I need to give me my answers. I'm here on a hunch, little hints of suspicion that had been dropped around me the past few months, but what I lacked was information… information that his eyes just gave me.

Karissa drugged me once, not long ago, using a tiny vial of powder that she got somewhere. I've watched her meticulously since she came into my life. I know her habits. I know everyone she talks to, everyone she deals with. There are only so many ways she could've come upon such a potent drug, only a handful of people capable of getting it for her.

The list whittled down to just one… just one, who so easily gave himself away with a look. Strike three. He's out.

"I didn't, uh… I'm not sure what you mean. I don't know what she told you, but I didn't give her anything."

I can practically see him sweating, his voice low and cracking at his denial. People are easy to read, especially untrained liars.

"You've never waited on her before?" I ask, cocking at eyebrow. "She comes here all the time with your girlfriend."

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure." He wipes his forehead absently before offering a smile that's full of relief. "Chocolate Mint Tea."

"Yes," I say. "I'll take one of those."

Paul rings it up and I pay with a twenty-dollar bill, telling him to keep the change. I linger off to the side while they make my drink, keeping my eyes on Paul as I wait.