Page 17 of When Stars Collide
He was provoking her again. She twisted into a semi-upright position without the phone. “We need a new plan.” She thought of the rats. “But don’t you dare put me down.”
He eased her onto the lid of the nearest Dumpster, something he could have done, she realized, from the beginning. “Don’t run away.”
As if she would.
A few minutes later, he was carrying her from the alley into a waiting Uber.
Neither of them seemed to have much to say as they drove back to the hotel. He stared straight ahead, a half smile on his face. She turned her head out the window and felt a half smile taking over her own face. Despite the dirt, the drunks, the threat of rats. Despite Thad Owens himself. Tonight was the first fun she’d had in weeks.
Her smile faded as she thought of Adam, whose days of having fun were over forever.
***
The Diva endured the walk across the glittering lobby with her chin raised and her haughtiest expression, daring anyone to mention her filthy bare feet. As they reached the elevator, a desk clerk hurried up to her. “Flowers arrived while you were out, Ms. Shore. We put them in your suite. And you have a message.”
She took the envelope he handed her with a gracious nod, but as the elevator rose, she crushed it in her fist.
Thad held the door of their suite open and entered behind her, stepping into the overwhelming smell of too many flowers. Vases stuffed full of a dozen varieties covered the top of the piano.
The Diva sighed. “Rupert again.”
“Again? He does this frequently?”
“Flowers, boxes of expensive chocolates, champagne. I’ve tried to discourage him, but as you can see, it hasn’t worked.” She extracted a florist card from one of the arrangements, glanced at it, and set it back down.
“Rupert is one of your lovers?”
“One of legions.”
“Seriously?”
“No, not seriously! He’s at least seventy.”
Thad took in the flowers. “Am I the only one who thinks this is creepy?”
“You have to understand opera fans. They feel like a dying breed, and that can make them overzealous when it comes to their favorite singers.”
“Are there others like Rupert?”
“He’s my most ardent. As for the rest... It depends on the production. I’ve gotten Spanish shawls, cases of good rioja, even a few Iberian hams from theCarmenaficionados. And, of course, cigars.”
“Why cigars?”
“Carmen works in a cigar factory.”
“I know that.” He didn’t. “So what other weird gifts have your twisted superfans sent?”
“They’re passionate, not twisted, and I love every one of them. Silver scissors forSamson et Dalila.”
“Stay away from my hair.”
“Lots of Egyptian jewelry—scarab earrings and bracelets—because I sing Amneris inAida. She’s the villain, but she has her reasons—unrequited love and all that. I’ve even gotten a silver hookah.” As an afterthought, she added, “Aidais set in Egypt.”
“I know that.” He did.
“Mozart fans have sent me more cherubs than I can count.”
“For?”
