Ryan looked at Layla. “Because I needed the press. Even bad press would do. My show was getting axed, I had nothing lined up, and I knew Aster wanted to get noticed and I—we—Madison agreed it might help. She ended up going off script and taking it way further than planned. I guess she got caught up in the moment, or maybe she got caught up in her anger toward me for stepping out on her. All I know is I was shocked at the level of drama that ensued, and yeah, I guess I was also a little annoyed, which is why I didn’t try to check on her to see if she was okay. In my defense, I really did believe it was all part of the plan. It wasn’t until they found the blood evidence that I realized something had gone terribly wrong. Then, when Aster’s dress was linked . . . well, that’s when I knew that someone else had been pulling the strings all along.” He looked at Aster, eyes pleading.
“Thirty seconds.” She glared in return.
He pressed his lips together, ran a hand over his perfectly chiseled face. “I don’t think you’re guilty. I also don’t think Mad set you up. I think something far darker is happening, and that’s why I—”
“Time.”
Ryan hung his head. “For the record,” he said, voice broken, “I really do care what happens to you. I feel partly responsible for getting you into this mess.”
“Yeah, like in all those interviews when you called me a mistake?”
He shook his head. “Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d handled myself better and that I refused to go along with Madison’s ploy. Not that I’m blaming her, or at least not entirely. I’m sorry for everything that’s transpired, for all the horrible fallout.”
“Fallout! You consider a first-degree murder charge fallout? Because that’s what I’m facing.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“You know what I really hate?”
He looked at her with bleary, red streaked eyes.
“I hate when people knowingly screw you over, then say they’re sorry and assume that’s all that’s required. You want my forgiveness? Go out and earn it! Your words are worth nothing to me—your actions are your only true currency, and so far they’ve failed on every level. You said you’d be there for me, that you wouldn’t let me face this alone. Less than twenty minutes later, you disappeared from my life.”
“You’re the one who disappeared! You left the club without me.”
“I don’t remember any of that. I don’t remember anything after I left the Riad.”
Ryan’s face looked troubled as he continued to study her. “I had nothing to do with that.”
Aster’s shoulders sank. She was losing steam but was unwilling to surrender completely. “Tell me what you know about Della,” she said.
Ryan balked, then just as quickly he collected himself. “MaryDella. It’s Madison’s real name.”
“And her last name?” Aster quirked a brow and waited.
Ryan sighed. “No idea. But it’s not Brooks. Her last address before LA may have been Connecticut, but that’s not where she came from.”
“That’s a lot of info for someone who claims to know nothing.”
“I dated her for six months. Not sure that’s a lot of info when you take that into account. Though I can tell you she was cutting deals all over town. Madison had a very extensive payroll.”
“Meaning?”
“Aside from the usual lawyers, managers, agents, stylists, publicists, assistants, and the like—she was also paying James—”
“James—the bouncer at Night for Night?”
“Whatever their arrangement, I’ve no doubt it required his discretion. She also had a fixer.” Fielding their confused looks, he said, “Someone who handled her . . . stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“The kind of stuff her team of professionals didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t, I guess.”
“So, basically, other than her first name you really don’t know anything.”
“Listen, I’m as eager to solve this mystery as you are.”
“Doubtful.” Aster glared. “I have a lot more at stake.”