That's How it Happens

1. Lost and Found

Ainsley turned to April with a look that she hoped was intelligible. An audience wasn't needed, even if it were in the middle of a crowded charity event. She was sure seeing her features in the dancing lights was hard, but as predicted, April had been paying attention. She would worry about the repercussions of that later.

Pursing her lips, April sighed.

"So," April started, signaling what Ainsley hoped would be her reluctant departure. She didn't want April to learn the full story, though she knew she would hear a modified version tomorrow. It didn't matter that it was her story; she would still get April's version of events, and that is what everyone would go by. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she was sending April off.

Picking up her drink from the bar, April scanned the crowd for someone to spill what she knew was happening to her best friend, wishing she could see everything up close. Ainsley's breakups were always entertaining and made for hot gossip. It wasn't that she was fond of telling one's secrets, but sometimes, when she opened her mouth, they just fell out. Besides, she was glad this was happening; she couldn't stand the dud. It was the only thing she and the boss agreed on, although she would never admit that. But as she looked for someone to talk to about the current situation, she stopped suddenly, her own face a telling one.

"I'm going to go murder...MINGLE," she shouted the correction, startling Ainsley.

Ainsley wasn't sure if April was trying to be intimidating, but that didn't matter to her. She couldn't deny that she was also thinking of different scenarios involving the person next to her, one a little more demented than the next, but something seemed off.

"April?"

"Mingling," April repeated, followed by a closed-mouth chuckle that would cause anyone who didn't know her to step back.

Except it wasn't the dud that April wanted to murder, but her own, whose hands were all over a cat-eyed blonde in a black mini.

Ainsley's mouth dropped open and then closed, unsure what to say to her friend. What could one say? He's not worth it? That didn't seem appropriate. Her stomach dropped even though it wasn't her going through it.

"Yes. Mingle," April repeated through clenched teeth, took a deep breath, and turned to look back at Ainsley with a forced smile. "I need to take care of something," she said before cutting her eyes at the dud. "You two have something to talk about anyway, and I don't want to be a bother."

"That's a first," she heard him mumble. She'd like to show him a thing or two about the sinister ideas circulating in her mind.

April's smile was a switchblade glinting in the neon glow of the dance floor. She hissed at the pathetic excuse for a man and vanished into the writhing crowd. Ainsley felt the familiar, ugly thrill of her friend's malice. Part of her wanted to follow, to be the sensible one, to keep April from crossing a line she couldn't uncross. The other part—the part that had never liked the two-timing bastard anyway—wanted to cheer. Pints in front of the TV sounded nice. So did a murder scene. Ainsley took one step toward the swarm of bodies, and then the sound of a throat clearing behind her froze the thought in her tracks.

"As I was saying."

Ainsley's eyes rolled up in her head as she sighed heavily. She had forgotten about Chris for that split moment and what was about to transpire between them. Staring at April's retreating form, she thought about following her anyway. His decision could have been delivered in a simple message, but no, he had to wait for this public spectacle. Ainsley's anger soured into anxiety as her gaze drifted to the upcoming weekend—a weekend she had planned to turn the tables for herself, a weekend she had foolishly, and now disastrously, put him at the center of.