to the Bronx too

sive perfume and coffee faded, replaced by the scent of stale sweat, clean

o glass towers here. Just brick and fire escapes a

nothing more than a blackened skeleton. The wi

ront of the ch

! Don't l

eat on her skin, smell the acrid smoke of burning plastic.

the burnt wood. Ash coated he

pplementary card Augustine gave her had been activated

She felt nothing. No joy. N

t café down the street. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

identity package for The Onyx Room. High-end.

family is digging into the old bir

et them dig. Dead

eets over. She didn't shop in the front. She went stra

didn't look up when Aine entered. He just

your specs,

as dark, mysterious, and looked like it cost a fortune. Alongside it was a custom-mad

wrinkled dress from the morning and pulled on the gown. I

was gone. The girl who slept

gave Augustine. This one was softer. Fragile. Mys

ger of The Onyx Room. Audition passed. You're

the client was

that touched the clouds, Mercer s

he Bronx, sir. Then we l

a pen against the mahogany

ment and a vintage dress from a

e wants to be a star. A gold digger with

we int

to see this train wreck personally. Prepa

with hairspray and nervous energy. Aine

d the lace garter. Tucked inside, against

ger yelled. "Don't screw this

th. Her heart rate sl

ne anymore. S

vet curtains. She could hear a laugh from th

eling the nails bite into

flared. She