Page 23 of Scripted for Love and Poison
The story checked. Luke thanked the actress for her time and made his descent to the street, but before requesting another car and wondering if he should think about renting a vehicle full-time, he called the number Chef Gill García had given him for Vinny Green and got exactly what he was expecting: a no-longer working number.
“The plot thickens,” he said out loud while he dialed Divya’s number and waited for his Uber to arrive.
I will not fall asleep, Sol kept reciting to herself, but it was difficult to follow her own precise instruction. She was at an almost-deserted showing ofHaughty Horizonsat The Grove. A full hour of the movie had already gone by, and she still couldn’t tell what the movie was about or why had it ever been greenlit.
She was utterly bored. And tired, so tired. She loved Lola, but as inflatable mattresses went, her friend’s was the most uncomfortable one Sol had ever slept on. And that was counting the whole of her twenties and even a few of her thirties.
But Sol feared it hadn’t been the discomfort of the mattress that had caused her to sleep extremely poorly the night before, but Luke’s humming presence lying next to her. Silent. He was so close. Yet the farthest apart from her she’d ever felt him. Even when they’d just met and had just started knowing each other, he hadn’t felt so out of reach. He hadn’t stopped flirting with her back then. But now, for all she knew, he was flirting with someone else. Why else would he have told her about the chef hitting on him?
She needed to stop obsessing about him and pay attention to the damn movie. She was supposed to write about the damn movie! But she knew there was no way she’d get even minimally interested in the story ofHaughty Horizons, and she resisted the idea of thinking about Luke, plus those seats were definitely more comfortable than Lola’s mattress. So she finally allowed herself to give in and sleep. She just hoped she wouldn’t snore much.
She was woken up by a movie usher, the ending credits of the movie rolling on the screen and not another moviegoer in sight.
“I’m so sorry!” Sol told the usher when she realized she had, indeed, fallen deeply asleep.
“Oh don’t worry, ma’am, it’s this movie. I feel the director has stumbled on the cure for insomnia,” the usher said, and Sol couldn’t avoid laughing out loud, even if she had yet again been calledma’am.
Her cell phone buzzed the minute she disabled airplane mode, and she left the screening room, thanking the usher one last time. It was Luke calling, and she felt the only way the two of them were communicating lately was telephonically. She hated that.
“Luca,” she answered, using the affectionate version of his name she had for him, momentarily forgetting she was supposed to be mad.
“Ciao, cara, sorry to bother you,” he said, and she felt they had perhaps reached some kind of tacit truce.
“You never bother me,” she said. It was so much easier to not be mad at him. She didn’t want to be mad at him. Why was she mad at him? Some miscommunication nonsense.
“How was the movie?” he asked, because of course he’d remembered she’d mentioned she was going to watchHaughty Horizonswhen they’d all had breakfast together that morning like a big happy modern family. Lola’s husband had made whole wheat pancakes with blueberries and Shinko pears, and everyone had shared their plans for the day. Not only that, Luke had listened. Not that the same could be said of her. She had no clue what everyone else was doing at the moment.
“The movie was dreadfully boring,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he did sound as if the idea of her being dreadfully bored was appalling. As if that wasn’t already enticing enough, her mind decided that was the perfect moment to remind her how he looked completely naked, and Sol concluded she was a fool and had beenacting like one for the last few days. There was absolutely no reason why she should be mad at such a man.
“Don’t be sorry, I had the most restorative of naps,” she said.
“That mattress is also killing you, huh?”
“Most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever slept on.”
“I know,” he said, a conspiratorial tone in his voice. The half-deflated mattress suddenly sounded much more appealing. It was the most tortuous sleeping device, but she’d shared it with him. “Listen, I have a bit of an odd request.”
“Uh-huh,” she said while she headed to the nearby Barnes & Noble. She sure could treat herself to some book buying now that she no longer was fuming against her partner.
“I know the answer is probably no, since everyone you seem to know is somehow associated with the showbusiness industry,” Luke continued.
“Except for you,” she said, a smile reaching her lips.
“Except for me,” he said, and she could hear him smiling as well. “But would you happen to have any contacts in law enforcement here? If I were in London, I’d have reached out to my and Divya’s contacts at the Met already. We both feel a conversation with the LAPD would probably help right now but don’t know where to start.”
“The investigation is stalled?” she asked.
“Very much so.” He sighed. “I have a missing witness, a chef who won’t pick up the phone, and Travis still doesn’t feel strong enough to talk to me or anyone else, apparently. I was just texting him, and he told me he needs a few more days. But I really want to wrap this up and head back home as soon as possible.”
“I see.”
“Sorry again. I know I said I wouldn’t get you involved.”
“I may know someone,” she said, even if she regretted it the moment she uttered those words. But she wanted to help Luke. “Can’t promise anything, but he’s an assistant district attorney for the city.”
“That’s exactly what I need! I’m trying to get the official police file and whatever they may have on Travis’s and Simon’s cases.”
