“It’s been six days. Longer than a week, and people forget.”
McRoy bites his lip, red eyebrows sinking over his frown. “I don’t know, Isaias. I’ve tried to connect with their manager, but he’s not calling me back. I think it’s a dead end. Probably wouldn’t be bad to focus our efforts elsewhere.”
“Right, you’re not here to give me business advice. All I need is for you to follow instructions, and as far as this goes, I’m handling it myself. Find out what studio they record at, and I’ll visit them in person.”
“Sir, I still think you should have talked with Bo Lindgren, the band leader when they were all here.” He lifts his hands at my glare. “Sorry, Boss. Not my place.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.”
“History? Ties to your family? Connections?”
I glare again, and he flattens his palms against me, keeping them up.
“Just get me the address.”
The frown has disappeared off McRoy’s face by the time he returns to my office. “Got the address on the first try! Turns out Sgt. Green was part of their escort on the way from the airport. They’re recording at Gearhead Studios in Sema Canyon. They sleep at the compound too, in the guesthouse.”
“Good job. Thanks, McRoy. I might keep you a bit longer.”
“You won’t fire me,” the idiot says. “You never do.”
I’ve only called the drummer once since our whiskey chat. I left him a quick voicemail two days ago in case he’d lost my card. When my call goes to voicemail again, I say, “Hi Troy. Isaias di Nascimbeni here. I’ll be in Sema Canyon for a meeting tomorrow and wanted to come by with a little something for you. I think you’ll like it. Should be there around four.”
I hang up and visit Gianni onset. He’s got three girls on a bed, Marco is there, and so is Luka. Belen is busy throwing a diva fit. Guess I arrived just in time.
“Lover! I’m so glad you’re here. Look at how the spotlights are set up. It’s like they don’t want me in focus! Since when is it all about the guys in a movie? And those stupid side characters. No offense, but it’s me they want to see. I mean, you pay me a lot of money, and how can I be at my best when I’m not even being—”
“Belen? Zip it. Whatever Gianni wants is your law: light, positions, dialog, every-fucking-thing. And if you don’t, you’re off this gig so fast your head will spin and Morgan will take your place.” I nod to Gianni, who lifts his hands, helpless.
Belen’s mouth opens and closes. She’s so outraged only small guttural sounds escape her. I should thank her for launching step two in my yank-down plan for her. All I had to do was stand back and watch her throw herself in front of the metaphorical train.
“You’ve got five seconds to get in position,” I murmur.
She crawls back up on the bed, pulling her G-string to the side. She might have a less than desirable personality, but there’s no denying the pretty pink flesh she reveals.
“I’m sorry Mr. Nascimbeni. I gotta say it takes some doing to stay hard when your girlfriend acts up every couple of minutes. Not everyone’s a machine like Luka.” Marco tips his head toward his colleague, nicknamed the Russian God in the industry.
“She’s not my girlfriend. Belen, let me be clear: time is money, quality takes are expensive, and I’m not losing any more of either on paid help.”
She gasps, boobs jiggling freely as she sits up. I let my gaze run over her before meeting her glare with a steely one of my own. I wait. Thankfully for her, she swallows her fury.
“Are we good here?” I ask.
“Sure are,” Marco says. Luka doesn’t answer, but the other girls nod and mewl out sexy little “Yes, Mr. Nascimbeni”’s.
Yesterday, I took Tatiana to Coffee Expressive’s. I’m picking her up again tonight. Last night, she allowed me to drop her off at the St. Catherine’s building, but when I told her I’d give her a lift again tonight, she turned me down bluntly and profusely.
Thing is, the wariness I saw in her eyes came from her having enjoyed herself, and if that isn’t like a red flag to a bull, I don’t know what is. The strawberry gazpacho made her close her eyes with happiness, and she licked—licked her knife to get the last taste of Coffee Expressive’s hummus. Sure, it’s a great hummus, but goddamn.
Suspecting she’d find a way to leave before I got there, I’ve had a guy on her all day. She arrived at ten in the morning, did some random church stuff throughout the day, and ate her packed lunch. But Bruno called me a couple of hours ago with a different kind of intel.
“Isaias? It’s the nun. She’s acting strange. The priest left the church, and she’s alone here now. He’d locked his office door, and you know what she did?”
I sighed. “I don’t.”
“She picked the lock and went through his desk. One of the drawers was locked, and she picked that one too. Found something in there, took a picture of it, and put it back again. At one point, she was bending to look under the desk. And guess what?”
I scrunched my eyes shut for a second. Bruno and his rhetorical questions. “Tell me.”
“She took her... uh, nun hoodie off. Guess it was in the way or something? Just thought that was odd. She put it back on again afterwards, though. By the time the priest returned, she’d tidied up and locked the door after herself. It was as if she’d never been there. She was fast too.”
“Wow, interesting.” I rubbed my chin. “Thanks, Bruno.”
Now, he’s calling me again. It’s six thirty, an hour before she usually gets out.
“She’s done.” He’s panting. “She left too, but you know what she did?”
“I do not.”
“She went right inside again. She was wearing her nun outfit, so maybe she’s changing now?”
“All right, you need to slow her down.”
“What? I can’t do that without giving myself away.”
“Come up with something.” I cut the connection, get in the car, and speed down the hill to the Valley.
Eight minutes later, I slow down at the west corner of St. Tatiana’s. I exhale my relief. Bruno is nowhere to be seen—good—but Tatiana sits on the steps to the church... holding something.
I get out and walk up to her. “What’ve you got there?”
“A kitten. It wasn’t breathing right. I think it’s doing better now. It’s so tiny.” She doesn’t look at me. I think she should.
“Wow, that thing is tiny. Where did you find it?”
“In the restroom of the church. I heard a gurgling sound, and I looked, and there it was, under the sink, just limp and breathing quickly. I have no idea how that happened. I didn’t even notice it when I went in.”
My cell buzzes. I let Bruno’s call go to voicemail while I stroke the little bundle of fur with one finger. Instead of leaving a message, he shoots me a text.
Got lucky. Guess what happened?
I don’t even answer.
Kid giving away kats. Phew.
Jesus Christ.
“Hold on,” I say to Tatiana. “It’s after regular business hours for most vets, I think, but let me check with the E.R.”
“Animal E.R.?”
I nod. Lift a miniature paw. The kitten reacts by pulling its claws in. Rubbing it, I call Bruno. “Hello, we have an emergency situation with a small kitten,” I growl at him.
“Ah yeah, genius, right?”
“Not exactly, no. I’m standing here with the young lady who found it. A stray kitten, it seems, and we can’t get it to wake up. It breathes shallowly. I’m wondering if it has inhaled poison. Should we bring it in?” Also, what the fuck were you thinking, asshole.
“It’s just a regular Unisom Sleep Tab. My mother left a bottle of it in my car. Guess how I did it?”
I’m so done with his rhetorical questions. “We’ll talk more about that later,” I grit out.
“Pulverized it and put it on his tongue. Knocked him right out! He’ll be fine, though, in a few.”
Few what, hours? Days? “Thanks. We’ll bring him in.”
I hear him say, “In where? Not to my house?” before I hang up.
When I look up, Tatiana’s eyes are glossy.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
Well, this wasn’t what I’d planned for the night. I’m giving Bruno an earful in my head while I drive to the emergency clinic with a silent Tatiana at my side. She’s cradling that kitten like it’s a baby. Belly up, it breathes fast, but then again, I guess little animals do that. The last thing I need is for Bruno to cause a cat death and the saddest novice in the Valley.
Thankfully, I’ve yet to meet a person who can’t be bribed, so at the vet’s, I have a private chat with the technician and give her a nicer version of the sleeping pill incident. Then, I push a few hundred bucks into her hand and ask her to tell Tatiana they need the kitten for observation for a couple of hours. If all’s good, it should be ready for pickup at that point.
Tonight, Tatiana isn’t in a mood to be messed with, so I ask her quietly if she’d like to kill time over Italian food at Mintrer’s. It’s a good sign when she smiles a little at that. “It’s not a date,” I murmur. “We’re just killing time.”
She nods and looks down as I open the car door for her.
We don’t say much while I drive us back in the direction we came from. I’m used to being the one keeping the conversation up between us, so I’m surprised when she speaks up.
“I don’t know why that threw me so much. It’s not my cat. I’ve never even seen it before.” She tries to chuckle, but the sound is wet. I have a box of Kleenex under the seat. I grab it, let her pull a few sheets. Grateful, she uses them to cover her nose and eyes.
“It’s not so strange. I think most have that instinct, to protect little animals and people who need us. It tugs at our heart strings, you know.”
“Yeah.” She huffs another laugh. “It’s sort of like when I was ten and lost a kitten. Dad had put out rat poison in the garage, and she must have ingested it. I was the one who found her.”
“Well, that’ll do it. You do know what threw you.” I say it in a soft voice. “I lost a puppy once.”
“Do I want to know how? I don’t think I can handle any more sad stories.”
“My cousin stole it and sold it to her friend. Easter was coming up, and Gabriela was hell bent on finally getting a yellow chick.”
“She didn’t swap your puppy out for a chick, right?”
“No, for three chicks. She kept two for herself and gave me one.” She laughs. “Wow, your parents must have been so mad. You got it back, though, right?”
I snort. “No. We’d never had a dog before, and my mother hadn’t considered the amount of extra work that came with him. She hated all the accidents in the house, and he chewed up her shoes. So yeah, she thought a little chick was a great trade. We ended up having Gabriela’s chickens for Sunday dinner once they were grown, while I was not having that happen with mine. My chick actually lived for seven years. She had a hen coupe of her own in the backyard.”
“Wow, that’s so silly,” Tatiana says. She could take down the skies with that smile. I grin back.
“And one hundred percent true. I’ll have my cousin confirm it in person once you meet her.”
Tatiana’s genuine smile fades at that.
The young hostess, Carmen, flicks her hair and gets us seated at Mintrer’s. The owner, Il signore, as his employees call him, bustles out of the kitchen and straight for our table. “Oh, mamma mia, it’s been long since I’ve seen you, little Isaias. How long? How’s your mamma? I see your dad the other day. Came by for... business.” He clears his throat, side-eyeing Tatiana.
“But I speak much. Who is la bella, bellissima you bring with you tonight? So very bella she is. You need a job, bella? I can use an extra hand with the tables. We just lost a waitress. She’s having a baby and go to school, now, instead.” He shakes his head, what-has-this-world-come-to style. “We need pretty face around here. It’s good for business.”
I finally get a word in to introduce them. Il signore uses the opportunity to smack juicy kisses over her hand, and Tatiana waits patiently until he’s done.
“So the feast, yes?”
I shrug, looking at Tatiana. “You interested in trying some specialties from Sicily?”
“Sure, why not?” There’s that smile again. She’s making Il signore beam.
“Frieda!” he bellows. An Asian-American stunner of a girl rushes over to the table. I remember being served by her before. “Get them la festa delle otto sorelle, and tell Antonio no skimp on the meat, eh? No skimp! We need lots of salsa, lots of tutto. Okay? Oh and the garlic. Isaias ama the garlic.”
“Not true,” I whisper to Tatiana, who giggles openly now. “I don’t know why he thinks I love garlic.”
“Sparkling new vino rosso? Yes?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
It’s a quiet night at Mintrer’s, and Il Signore treats me like the mafia son I am. He has Frieda stationed within ten feet of the table at all times, responding to every gesture I make.
The wine is exquisite, and we’re thirsty. I’m cataloging the tidbits Tatiana tells me from her childhood and matching her version with my intel. It’s how I am; if something catches my attention, I give it my all until I’m to the bottom of it. Tatiana just happens to be the most enticing little mystery I’ve run into in a long time.
When I pour the last drops into Tatiana’s glass, Frieda disappears behind the bar and comes back with a second bottle without my asking. “The same?”
“Please,” I say and let her pour it for us.
Two hours pass quickly, and I notice that Tatiana’s keeping an eye on her watch. I’m best off being the one to remind her, so ten minutes before it’s time to check in with the vet, I ask, “Shall we give the little one a call?”
“Oh, checking on the babysitter?” Frieda smiles. I make a mental note of giving her a generous tip. She’s a feast to look at, for sure, if I didn’t already have my eyes set on the unearthly Sister Tatiana.
“You can say that,” I murmur, winking.
“My friend and I”—Frieda points over her shoulder to another waitress by the bar—“we couldn’t help noticing something... You’ve probably heard it a thousand times before though.” She bites her lip, looking a little starstruck.
Maybe she’s seen the only film I’ve personally starred in. I did it right after taking over Lucid to teach Belen a few things about obedience. I’ve dabbled in sex clubs before, and even some S&M stuff back when. That film actually had some bite to it and has been selling well. “What did you notice?”
“This is going to sound stupid, but... you look like Belle. You know, Disney-Belle?”
I frown. Shoot a glance at my dinner partner and watch Tatiana’s eyes widen.
“You know, Belle from Beauty and the Beast?” She laughs awkwardly.
“You think she looks like a Disney princess?” I ask. “A cartoon.”
Frieda shakes her head. It’s slow at first, but then it speeds up, and it’s like she sees her entire tip for the night blow away in one big gust of air. “No. No, no. Not at all. It’s more like Belle looks like your girlfriend. Sorry, like your wife? Fiancée. Your partner, I mean.” She swallows. “I’m going to get you your complimentary desserts now. They’re my treat.”
With two sentences, Tatiana saves the girl. “That’s so sweet of you. Belle is my favorite Disney princess.”
We’re in the car, and a tipsy Disney princess has a bundle of sleepy kitten in her hands. She’s nuzzling it with her perfect little Disney nose. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“We can take her to the shelter?” I suggest but shake my head when her lip wobbles at the thought. “Bad idea. Okay. The St. Catherine sisters don’t allow pets, I assume?”
She bites her lip, tearing up. Oh, hell no, I can’t have that. “Don’t, okay? I’ll find it a good home.”
There’s got to be someone I can bribe to do this. Bruno. That jackass needs to raise the kitten. Although, what would he do, drug it and ask it rhetorical questions all day? Shit. It’s got to be one of the girls at work. Belen? Yeah, right.
Bruno has me in so much trouble. Fucker.
“Until I find the perfect foster family for it, I’ll be keeping it at my house.”
She breathes out, relieved as she pets its chest with one finger. That’s how small that chest is. I groan inwardly. I’ll have to walk around on eggshells in my own home until I find a solution now. I sure as hell don’t want to end up squishing it under my foot.
“On one condition,” I murmur.
Tatiana looks up. “What’s that?”
“It’ll need your visits. I can’t give it all the love you’re giving,” I say, smearing it on thickly.
“Oh, for the love of God.” She shakes her head slowly. “Another worst pickup line ever. You’re so full of it.”
“You, woman, destroy me.” I clutch my heart, half faking it to see her eye-roll, and half meaning it. “I don’t think you’d notice the real deal if it hit you in the face.”
“The real deal, as in love?” Tatiana sort of bats her lashes at me. She exaggerates the move, but it doesn’t stop my balls from drawing up, getting ready for times I’m not getting with her tonight—maybe never if I can’t up my game more than this.
“Hell, how about real desire first? Love comes later,” I say.
“Does it, now?”
“Yes, it does. Goddamn lust, so real it burns you up, comes first. Then, it mellows out and becomes love.”
“So, the two can’t happen at the same time?”
“Nah. Maybe a slight overlap, right around the honeymoon.” I grin.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’ll visit our child at your house until you find a good home for her.”
“Geez, you make me work hard.”
As I park outside the Sisters, she holds up the smallest bundle of grey tiger stripes and deposits it in my palm. The damn thing stretches a little, a willing pawn in this woman’s web.
“Dinner at my place. Tomorrow. Eight sharp. I’m sending a car for you.”
She twists her mouth like she’s not sure yet.
“It’s a custody thing. You have to keep your end of the agreement.”
“Okay.”
“‘Okay,’ she says. It’s the word of the hour.”
Tatiana smiles, and when she lifts her alabaster hand and presses two fingers to her lips, I’m done for all over again.