Page 130 of The Sun and Her Star

I shake my head. “Jesus.”

I’m about to open Dave’s text when Omar calls.

“Hey.”

“Yooooooooo,” he says with a very amused chuckle.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit. So, if you’re calling to laugh at me, just fuck off.”

“I get why you’re in a bad mood. Your shit just blew up. But, I gotta laugh. You gotpaidto fuck all of those hot bitches you were training. Damn, Yoda, teach me your ways.”

I can’t believe this fucker.

“Omar, believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to have to do what I did. And right now, you’re wasting my time. I’m trying to get to Apollo.”

“Well, good luck with that since she’s locked up. I just watched the video and damnnnn—”

“You have the video? Send it to me!”

“You haven’t seen it? Your woman is like a fucking assassin. And her friend, who’s that? She’s even crazier than Apollo. You think you can hook—”

“Omar will you please shut the fuck up and send me the video?”

“Shit, sorry, my bad. I’m sending it now. Good luck with shit. I’m out of town, but I’m heading back in the morning. I’ll hit you up.”

“Yup, thanks. Bye.”

I stare at my phone, and after the longest thirty seconds of my life, Omar’s text with the video attached shows up.

My finger is shaking as I press play. It starts with a blur of movement that I can’t quite make out and a lot of background noise. Then suddenly, the camera is pointed at a table in the center of the restaurant, and the background makes it hard to hear, but I can seeveryclearly. The shot catches them in profile. Apollo is standing across from a seated Nanette and Lucas. What the hell is he doing with Nanette?

Her friend Reena is standing to her right. Dressed in—of all things—a baseball uniform. And she’s holding a baseball bat. Apollo is wearing the dress she had on when I last saw her. Her shoes are dangling from the fingers of her left hand. I can hear her raised voice but can’t make out what she’s saying. Her hands are waving around her wildly as she yells at Nanette. One of her shoes goes flying off to the left.

The cameraman’s, “Oh, shit!” is gleeful.

Dean’s call interrupts the video, and I send it to voice mail and resume watching.

Apollo turns to Reena to say something and then holds out her hand. Reena hands her the bat without hesitation. Lucas stands up and backs away from the table. Nanette leans closer to Apollo, and from the expression of cool disdain on her face, I can tell that she’s being snide and vengeful.

Apollo raises the bat, and without pausing, brings it down hard and fast onto the table. The glass under the white tablecloth shatters and Nanette’s face freezes before her eyes widen with terror. She starts to scream so loud that I can hear it over the screams of the rest of the patrons.

This time, the cameraman’s “Oh. shit!” is full of alarm and is muffled by the rest of the noise. Apollo raises her bat, and Nanette jumps up out of her chair a few seconds before Apollo’s bat lands in the spot where she’d been sitting. Nanette turns to run, and Apollo jumps over the pile of glass like an Olympic hurdler, the bat raised in the air like it’s a sword.

I am struck dumb.

Nanette moves from table to table, hiding behind the innocent diners whose tables are immediately obliterated by Apollo’s indiscriminate vengeance.

This goes on for another thirty seconds before someone wearing a waitstaff uniform tackles Apollo from the side, sending her bat flying and both of them to the ground.

“Oh my God,” the cameraman says, and he lingers on Apollo and her assailant. She’s fighting like she’s possessed and he’s straining to stay on top of her. I feel sick as I watch him try to trap her in a bear hug. Watching her, I’m reminded of the way she’d been fighting the water when I’d found her. She looks just as desperate. Except now, she’s crying angry tears. Her eyes are trained on Nanette, and her free hand reaches for the bat.

Reena runs to Apollo’s side and squats down beside her. She’s petting her shoulder soothingly, but Apollo won’t be consoled.

Nanette starts toward Apollo, her hands clutching either side of her waist; her gait is more of a hobble than a prowl. Her face is full of smug contempt as she kicks the bat farther away from Apollo’s reach.

In a burst of speed that in any other circumstance, I would have found impressive, Reena launches herself at Nanette. The camera pans over to them just long enough for me to see her straddling Nanette.

“The fucking police are here, thank God,” the cameraman says.

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