MT

“You’ve been stalked more this year than half the starlets in Hollywood combined. I’m not sure whether to be proud, jealous, or just seriously disturbed.”

Ivy Slade handed my phone back to me after reading my mystery text and arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. She stood in the center of my single dorm room in Pemberly Hall with her slim arms crossed over her chest. Her dark hair hung loose over the shoulders of her white cardigan, and she looked as if she’d been spray-painted into her dark-wash skinny jeans.

“Believe me, it’s not something I’m proud of,” I told her, tossing my phone onto my bed. I glanced out the window toward the construction site, checking for dark-jacketed creepers or random girls with blond hair. “So what do I do now?”

“How much time do you have before Josh comes to pick you up?” she asked, sliding past me to sit at my desk. She opened my laptop and the screen instantly filled with at least ten open documents—outlines of my plans for the cocktail party and brunch; contact numbers for caterers, car services, florists, and hotels; guest lists; meal preferences; and arrival times. Just looking it was giving me a migraine.

“About ten minutes,” I replied, checking my watch. Josh had been busy most of the day, but we’d had a standing predinner coffee date for weeks now. So standard that all my friends knew I basically planned my day around it. It was the best and most chill part of my day. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we start by checking to see if this stalker’s info is any good,” Ivy said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she looked back at me. I was already staring out the window again. “Hello? Can I have your attention, please?”

With a sigh I yanked the curtain over the window and then sat down on the edge of my bed. “Can we not call it a stalker? Just hearing the word gives me the heebs.”

Ivy’s red lips twisted into a smirk. “Fine. Mystery texter it is. MT for short.”

I smiled as Ivy opened the most valuable folder on my computer—the one containing all the information there was to know about every last Billings alum and all the current Billings Girls as well. There were several files, each with the information organized in different ways—by class, by initiation date, by last name. Ivy opened the alphabetical file and went right for the G’s.

“So. What are we looking for?” Ivy asked.

“I have no idea.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs and scooted forward a bit. “Someone in county government? Or state?”

Ivy clicked on the first G name, Lacey Galvin, but apparently Lacey was a world-class yachtswoman living in Florida. She closed the file and opened the next.

“Or maybe someone in construction?” she said. “Green living?”

The next woman owned five hotels in France. The next was listed as a life coach in Los Angeles. There was an Olympic equestrian, a CEO of a gourmet food corporation, and several philanthropists, but no one working on environmental causes. By the time we got to the last woman in the G section, Cori Gulberg, I was starting to think that this MT person was either out of their minds, or so bored they were making stuff up for fun.

“Here’s something,” Ivy said, snagging my attention. “Cori Gulberg is president of Glace Cosmetics.”

I turned up my palms. “So?”

“It says they’re leaders in green initiatives in their field,” Ivy said, though even she sounded skeptical.

“They make organic blush and primer. That’s gonna be really helpful,” I groused, pushing myself up. I shooed her out of my chair. “Get up. Go!”

“Why? We’re done with the G’s. What do you think you’re going to find that I didn’t?” Ivy complained. She finally stood up when she saw that I was about to sit down on her lap.

“I don’t know,” I said. “There has to be something.”

I started scrolling through the entire alphabetical list, as if I was going to find some G name misfiled under M.

“No, actually there doesn’t,” Ivy said, hovering over me. “It looks like our little MT just felt like sending you on a pointless mission.”

“But why?” I asked, tearing my eyes from the screen as random names flew by faster and faster and faster. “Why bother? Just so that we’d waste a few minutes on my laptop?”

Suddenly, Ivy’s eyes widened at the computer screen. “Wait! Stop! Go back.”

I lifted my fingers from the touchpad. “Go back where?”

“To the S section,” she said, shaking her finger at the screen in frustration. “Did I just see the name Carolina Slavowski?”

“Um . . . maybe.” I scrolled back. What someone with the initials CS had to do with G was beyond me, but Ivy was acting like a puppy dog that had just spotted its first cat. I found the name Carolina Slavowski and hovered the arrow over it.

“And we’re interested in this person why?”

“Carolina Slavowski is the real name of Carolina Grant.”

I stared at Ivy blankly. “Who the hell is Carolina Grant?”

“From Renovate TV?” Ivy prodded me. She rolled her eyes at my continued dumb stare. “She does all these green renovations, overhauling houses to reduce their carbon footprint, helping businesses get up to code . . .” She clucked her tongue and nudged me aside with her shoulder, angling for the keyboard. “Here.”

It took two seconds for her to bring up the Renovate TV website and toggle to a show called Go Green! Suddenly a video popped up on the screen, featuring a bright-eyed, curly-haired woman who was spunk personified.

“Hi! I’m Carolina Grant!” she said as she walked along a pristine beach in jeans, a T-shirt, and a tool belt. “Do you want to have the greenest, most cost-efficient, most Earth-friendly home on your block? We’re looking for new homes to renovate for next season’s episodes of Go Green! Simply click on the link to my left and fill out the entry form. You could be the next person to join the Go Green revolution!”

The video stopped and I gaped at Ivy. “She went to Easton?”

“That just makes her so much more awesome,” Ivy said reverently.

I leaned back, narrowing my eyes at her. “You watch Renovate TV?”

Ivy crossed her arms over her chest and stood up straight. “Sex addicts need sex. Drug addicts need drugs. I need to watch people demolish their homes and rebuild them again. Got a problem with that?”

I laughed. “Just seeing a whole new side of you, that’s all.”

“You do realize what this means, right?” Ivy said, grabbing my phone up off my bed. “It means that your MT is on the up and up.”

I turned around and stared at Carolina Grant’s frozen made-for-TV smile. “And it also means that we may have just found somebody who could help us fast-track Billings.”

Suddenly, I felt as if a huge weight was being lifted off my heart, and I found myself sitting up a little straighter. Maybe this project didn’t have to be shelved after all. Maybe there was something I could do to fix it. Who needed Noelle when I could have Carolina Grant?

“Thank you, MT,” I said under my breath.

“Should we call her?” Ivy asked, practically hyperventilating as she clutched my cell. Clearly the idea of talking to Carolina was making her dizzy.

“Definitely,” I said.

And then my stomach grumbled. My eyes darted to the clock on my desk and I frowned. Embroiled in our research, I’d lost track of time, and Josh was over twenty minutes late.

“Can I have my phone? I just need to call Josh real quick.”

Ivy’s smile drooped, but she handed the phone over. “Sure.”

It took four rings for Josh to pick up. “Reed, hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. We still on for coffee?”

I was kind of dying to see him, especially now. I wanted to tell him about MT and the helpful info he or she had helped us dig up. Although, knowing Josh, he’d probably tell me to block MT’s number and never think about it again. He was decidedly anti-intrigue. And for good reason, considering our track record.

“You can’t go out now! What about calling Carolina?” Ivy hissed, nudging my arm. I batted her hand away.

“Crap, I’m so sorry,” Josh said. His voice got gradually louder until he was speaking normally. “I totally spaced. Trey got us passes to go off campus for pizza, so I’m not gonna be back for a while.”

My heart thumped extra hard. He’d spaced on our standing date? That was very not like him.

“Um, okay,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “It’s no big deal. I’ve got a lot to do anyway.”

“You sure?” Josh asked. I heard a horn honk in the background and assumed he was standing outside the pizza place now. But why couldn’t he talk to me in front of Trey? Why had he been whispering when he’d picked up?

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile. “Call me later?”

“I will,” he said. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I replied.

Then the line went dead. I sat and stared at the phone until the screen went dark. I had this hot, roiling feeling in my gut. Something had been off with that phone call.

“He’s not coming?” Ivy asked.

“Apparently not,” I replied.

“Good. That means we can call Carolina now!”

She snatched the phone out of my hand and leaned toward the computer to reopen Carolina’s file and get her cell number—far more efficient than filling out the cable TV station’s online form. I rolled my eyes, but got up to give her more space. My heart felt heavy and twisted in knots thanks to Josh’s careless disregard of our date, but I told myself it was actually a good thing. Now I could get right on this Billings problem. Really, his sudden and unexpected thoughtlessness was a blessing in disguise.

Right?