Page 181 of Blue Moon

“You think she’ll film them?”

“Trust me, she never goes anywhere without perfect make-up and her phone. She’ll sweet-talk a neighbour into letting her into the building, and then she’ll yell at me through the door until I give in. That’s the way she works.”

And in the past, I had given in because she never gave up. Every victory had made her stronger, I realised that now.

“You really think she’s going to yell?” Ryder asked.

“Yup.” Hmm. “You think we could put in a noise complaint?”

“We could, but I have a better idea.”

“Really?”

Instead of answering, Ryder rose and headed to the bedroom. I heard him rummaging for a moment, and when he came back, he handed me a black silicone wristband. The letters “WWED” were stamped on it in white.

“What’s this?”

“A lucky charm. We got them in our stockings at last year’s work Christmas party.”

“What Would Esus Do?”

“I’ve worked with Emmy Black for a while now. Her favourite author is Sun Tzu, and she’s the sneakiest bitch I ever met. So in a situation like this, we need to ask ourselves What Would Emmy Do?”

“And?”

“‘Attack where your enemies are not prepared; go to where they do not expect.’ That’s a quote from The Art of War. Amethyst wants a fight? Let’s give her one.”

Eleven minutes later, the yelling started. By then, I also had perfect make-up, although mine was more subtle than Mom’s would be. Foundation, a little blush, a sweep of mascara, plain lip gloss. The “just gotten out of bed, but prettily” look. I’d put on a cute silk camisole and shorts instead of one of Ryder’s T-shirts, and I’d flossed my teeth to get rid of the pieces of croissant.

Game on, Mom. Game on.

“Luna, it’s Mom. I’m so worried about you.” No, she was just worried about her bank balance. “We should talk.”

“I’m eating breakfast,” I called through the door, which Ryder assured me he’d replaced with a reinforced version, so she’d break a shoulder if she got any stupid ideas.

“Perfect. Let’s go to Tableau for brunch—you know it’s your favourite.”

“No, I’m having croissants here.”

“You shouldn’t be all alone in your apartment.”

“Rocky’s with me.”

“That vicious mongrel?”

“No, he’s not vicious.”

“He bit a man, Luna. The man almost died.”

“Of sepsis. He nearly died of sepsis. It wasn’t as if Rocky tore out his jugular.”

“Dr. Adamson thinks it would be beneficial for you to talk about your ordeal. You can’t keep bottling things up.”

“I am talking about it. My boyfriend’s here with me, and I’m talking with him.”

Oh, that delicious moment of silence.

“Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Are you letting a gold-digger take advantage of you?”

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