Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,87
two weeks, two months.” For the third time, she pulls her into a crushing hug. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Finally, Violet casts a quick glance my way, a smirk playing on her mouth.
This whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It’s a grenade waiting to explode, and that Crayola-haired bitch is going to be the one to pull the pin and blow us all to hell.
Breaking their embrace again, Angel’s face lights up. “Oh, we should all go to Amalia for dinner.”
“You two have fun,” I tell her, forcing my way in between them, because, fuck you, Violet, she’s mine. “I have a lot of work piled up.” I start to give her a kiss on the cheek but change my mind and take her lips instead. It’s a demanding, unapologetic kiss, and Angel lets out a nervous laugh when I finally let her go. “We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
The last thing I hear just before I walk out of the room is Violet’s whispered voice.
“Count on it.”
I see it coming as soon as I open the door. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“I’m not in the mood, Milly—back off.” I push past her, ignoring the curious stares of my former employees as I storm into my office and collapse into my chair.
Of course, she doesn’t listen. The door doesn’t even close before she’s barreling through it like a mini cyclone, crossing her arms over her chest in front of my desk. “Who peed in your Cheerios?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to ward off the headache brewing behind my eyes. “The ghost from dive bars past.”
Sighing, she plops down in one of the two chairs in front of me. “Dom, why are you still with her? You got the money. Rosten’s off your back. All you’re doing is drawing more attention to yourself. You can get laid anywhere. Why her?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Does this have anything to do with that detective?”
I still, slowly lifting my gaze over my fingers. “What detective?”
“The one that keeps coming by here asking about you.” She squishes her face and snaps her fingers. “Remo? Russo?”
“Rubio,” I say, picking up a pencil and rolling it between my fingers.
Her eyes light up. “Yeah that’s it. Rubio.”
“What have you told him?”
“Nothing. He keeps asking if I’ve ever seen you and Angel together before your little announcement. This last time he asked if you’d ever mentioned Freddy Wiseman.” I flinch at the name, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “My answer to both was no, and I left it at that.”
“Great,” I groan, slumping back in my chair while flipping the pencil between my fingers.
There’s a flicker in Milly’s eye. “He also mentioned the name Luciano Ricci.”
The pencil snaps in half. “What?”
She jumps at the sound, wrinkles creasing her forehead as she stares at me. “Dom, if you’re in trouble—”
“I have to go.” I’m out of my chair, across the bullpen, and reaching for the front door before she can catch up and ask more questions.
Try to avoid a cop, and there’s one on every corner. Try to find one damn detective, and you might as well look for Waldo.
Rubio has no problem sneaking around my shit like a side-ho, but when I try to find him to confront his ass, he disappears like a fuckboy.
Or something like that.
“Another one.” Turning the empty glass upside down, I watch the brown droplets run down the inside of the glass then disappear into the scuffed wood. Gone. Just like that. Like they were never there.
I wonder if that’ll be my legacy. When this is all over, is that all Dominic McCallum will ever be? A drop of whiskey that plummeted inside a glass cage until finally being swallowed into nothingness.
That’s fucking depressing.
“Bartender!” I yell, flicking the glass with my middle finger. “I asked for another one.”
A middle-aged blonde with inflated tits leans across the bar and wrinkles her forehead. Well, she would have if the damn thing wasn’t frozen in a Botox space-time continuum. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough, honey?”
Groaning, I scrub my palm down my face. Maybe she’s right. My lips feel numb. Good. Maybe after a few more my whole body will take the hint and fall in line. Is getting drunk the answer to my problems? Probably not. But neither is sitting at home driving myself insane wondering if Barney the Emo Bitch is sitting across from Angel sabotaging the little time I have left with her.