“Well, tomorrow is it like a corporate party?” George explained. Mireya looked away from the monitor and looked at him questioningly. “Will you come tomorrow?” George asked, stepping closer to her desk. She took a deep breath and sipped her coffee again, feeling it burned her throat. Her colleague George was standing in front of the shelves of documents his voice always annoyed Mireya – George was a guy with squeaky, overly bright shirts with flowers and funny bright trousers that were painfully combined with sneakers or classic slippers. Sitting in the office in front of her computer, she looked at her colleague through a sip of latte. Mireya Rothe, a 26-year-old blonde with big eyes and a fragile figure was a graphic editor in the company of her long-time friend Rick O’Connell. Here everyone could be who he really is – no judgments, just one of many faces… Many of them had a vanity, although unlike many others they didn’t have a habit of hiding or having it – for them, the mask was a sign that you accepted yourself and your essence.
This city has hardly changed, andr its people have not changed. Friendship also means accepting the dark side of your friend, and sometimes you switch to that side on your own… Will your friend be able to save you?Īnother day in June in Los Angeles monotonously counted down the hours until Midnight under the scorching Sun. What does friendship mean to people? Absolute trust, support, dedication… But, as you know, there is nothing perfect in the world.
Is this really her friend? Where is she taking her? And what is the answer to the main question – what really happened on that forgotten night? On her way, she receives strange calls… from Leandra, which lead her forward. Mireya escapes to justify herself and find the real killer. This night has been erased from Mireya's memory. Leandra makes an appointment at the hotel, and that night she was killed. Mireya Rothe receives a call from an old friend Leandra Rae, who she doesn't keep in touch with for a long time.
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