Bad Blood by Mari Mancusi

and save the cab money this time around. The street’s brightly lit and packed with people, many of them extremely loud and intoxicated. Guess they aren’t kidding when they call this place Sin City. As I weave my way through the throng, I consider my next move. My best lead so far is that theater. Maybe I should go back there. Talk to Jayden some more. He was super nice; maybe he could give me some more information about Sasha/Jane.
    I arrive at the apartment and ride the elevator up to the twenty-seventh floor and approach the apartment door with hesitation. Will everyone be asleep? I should have asked for a spare key. I ponder for a moment, then give a light knock. A moment later my stepmom comes to the door, fully made up and dressed in a hot pink Juicy Couture tracksuit. She smiles widely when she sees me and ushers me inside. An inside, I realize, that smells strongly of delicious Chinese food. My stomach growls in appreciation and I realize I haven’t eaten since the plane. (And let’s face it, the microscopic snack mix you get with two peanuts and a pretzel doesn’t exactly cut it.)
    “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back,” Heather says, leading me over to the dining room table. “But I thought you might be hungry.” She gestures to the table, piled high with containers of food. “Care for some vegetarian fried rice?”
    My mouth is watering so badly I’m worried I might be drooling. “Absolutely,”
    I cry, taking a seat at the table. Heather walks over to the kitchen area and pulls a plate down from the cabinet. She walks it over to me. “Veggie fried rice is my total favorite,” I tell her, pulling open the container and digging in.
    “I know,” she says, smiling down at me.
    I look up, mid-shovel, surprised. “How?”
    “She grilled Dad about it for, like, a thousand hours,” Stormy replies, coming out from the hallway, Nintendo DS in hand, as usual. Doesn’t anyone sleep in this house? “What you eat, what you wear, what you like to do. Not to mention she did, like, professional recon on your Facebook and MySpace pages, too.”
    “I did not!” Heather protests, her face turning a beet red. Stormy giggles. “Mmm-hmm.”
    “Okay, maybe I asked a few questions. And I might have done a quick Google search,” my stepmom admits, sliding into a seat across from me. “It’s just that I wanted to make sure you girls felt at home here during your stay.”
    “Thanks,” I say, remembering too late my mouthful of food.
    “That’s really nice of you.” And I mean it. She didn’t have to go through all that trouble for us. But I kind of like that she did. Not that I’d ever tell Rayne. She’d say I was being a total traitor to Mom. But honestly, Heather’s been pretty cool. Nothing like the homewrecking bitch we always imagined her to be.
    “Where’s your sister?” Heather asks.
    I swallow my food this time before answering. “Last I saw she was at the blackjack tables in the MGM Grand. I wouldn’t wait up.”
    “Gambling? She’s not eighteen, is she?”
    “Fake ID.”
    “Of course.” Heather chuckles. “Silly me. I must be getting old.”
    “Duh. You’re, like, ancient,” Stormy says, dipping her chicken in the red sweet-and-sour sauce.
    “Thanks, darling daughter of mine.”
    “Anytime, mother crone.” Stormy pops the chicken in her mouth with a pleased grin. I can’t help but giggle at their banter.
    “Now stop eating and go to bed,” Heather says, poking her playfully. “It’s way past your bedtime.”
    “M-om!”
    “Don’t Mom me,” Heather scolds. “Child social services would probably take you away if they knew I let you stay up so late to begin with.”
    “But don’t you want me to bond with my sister? That’s what you’ve been saying all week.”
    I look up, surprised.
    Heather sighs. “You’re really determined to embarrass me to death tonight, aren’t you?”
    Stormy grins. “Is it working?”
    “Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean you’re