Page 14 of Blue Moon

“You’re not the boss?” Hill asked Ana.

Khatia kicked his leg this time. “Shut up, brrochi.”

“Here, I’m the boss. And don’t worry about the blonde one. She’s a sucker for a happy ending.”

“Are you?”

At work, Ana was unapproachable, untouchable, and for the most part, unlikeable. But Ryder suspected that was an image she cultivated rather than her natural personality. He’d met her boyfriend a time or two, and he seemed remarkably normal. They even had a kid. Although if rumours were to be believed, the kid was anything but a typical five-year-old.

“If you ever suggest that again, I’ll remove your tongue with a rusty carving knife.” Ana pointed to the door. “But I do have money on the two of you hooking up. Get the hell out of here.” Then she turned to Hill and smiled. He shrank back into his seat. “We have everything under control.”

6

LUNA

“Nope, there’s nothing here from the weirdo.” Luis put down the last gift bag. “But have you seen this? Someone sent you a showerhead.”

“A showerhead?”

“It has six different settings.”

“I live in a rented apartment.”

Venus studied the box. “If you don’t want it, could I have it? My boyfriend keeps promising to refit the bathroom, and this might be the push he needs.”

“Sure, take it.” I picked up a pair of silky pants. What was “performance inactivewear”? “Take whatever you want.”

The only things I wanted to keep were a stationery set, the pretty pens, and the letters. Jubilee always used to write my fans back, usually with a promo photo and a note she had me sign, but the letters had gone unanswered for months. I couldn’t reply to all of them, but I’d at least try to write to the kids—slowly, so the words were legible—especially the ones who sent me hand-drawn pictures.

Hurriedly, I stuffed everything into a tote bag while Paul finished changing. I’d apologised to him again, and then he’d apologised to me because he’d also been having a bad day. One of the third-graders Rufus taught had come to school with bruises on Friday, and now Child Protective Services was involved, which was stressful for everyone, including Rufus. He’d spent Friday evening being questioned on everything he knew about the situation.

Our heart-to-heart was a reminder that I wasn’t the only person having a tough time, and it also demonstrated the importance of communication.

Communication.

I thought of the call I’d made to Ryder and died inside. I’d left him a long-winded and nonsensical voicemail, and he’d still cared enough to send a colleague to check on me. The guy had shown up at six a.m., caught me half-asleep, not to mention mortified, and I hadn’t been too polite. Maybe I should apologise to him too? Send some kind of gift to the Blackwood office?

A bunch of flowers walked toward me. Fifty shades of pink, my favourite. Okay, there had to be a person carrying the bouquet, but I couldn’t see them.

“These are from my father,” a disembodied voice said.

I stepped to the side and peered around the blooms. “Oh? Who is your father?”

The tall, dark, and objectively-handsome-but-slightly-too-slick stranger found a spot for the vase on the nearest table and held out a hand.

“I’m Romeo Serafini.”

This was Frank’s son? Last week, Frank had mentioned he was in Italy, overseeing renovations to their vacation home there.

“Romeo? Like Romeo and Juliet?”

“Except I’m not sixteen or suicidal.” He straightened the lapels on his jacket. Rather than putzing around in baggy slacks and a golf shirt like his dad, Romeo wore a slim-fitting black suit, but his dress shirt was open at the collar in an attempt to look casual. He sucked at it. “You were great out there tonight.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Papa wanted to watch the end of the show, but he had to deal with an issue in the casino. You have any place you need to be tonight?”

Why did he want to know?

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