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So, yeah. It’s not going to be any late-night liaisons with famous movie stars for me, even if Amanda thinks that’s the dream...
I’m leaving work, my bag flung over my shoulder, when I’m approached in the street.
It’s late afternoon. The sun is dropping below the horizon. No one is about on the roads of Crystal River.
That is except for the one person who makes a direct beeline up to me without a single moment of hesitation.
I’m momentarily shocked and scared by their sudden advance, but then I see it’s a woman and not some crazy man with evil intent. Still, I don’t like anyone who darts across a sidewalk to confront me, even if she does seem unintimidating.
She’s all neutral colors. Blacks and grays. Barely any jewelry. It’s like she wants to be inconspicuous in the environment. She’s wearing cargo pants and a jacket. Skinny as a stick. No weapon. No threat.
But the way she’s looking at me...
It’s kinda freaky.
It’s like she knows who I am.
“You’re her, right?” she asks me as she storms closer. She’s barely a few yards away from me now.
I blink in utter confusion and take a hesitant step back from the space intruder.
“Who am I?”
“You’re the mysterious girl who took Victor’s hand today, aren’t you?” she questions.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retort in bewilderment.
How does she know about Victor and me?
“My name’s Liv. I’m a journalist. I saw the crowd, and I saw what you did.”
“Did you? You saw nothing. There was no hand-holding.”
“I don’t think so,” she says with a wry smirk. “I think I saw something. I’m here to unravel what happened today with Victor Penmayne and with the girl who took his hand in the crowd. It’s quite a story.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Did you do anything with Victor?”
“No.”
“Any words exchanged between you two?”
“I’m not even going to engage that with an answer.”
The journalist’s eyes narrow in suspicion.
“I think you did do something with him. What’s your name?”
“I’m not going to tell you my name.”
My voice is wavering.
“You knew him before today?” Liv asks. “Are you and Victor past acquaintances?”
“No.”
“Right. You do realize he’s a philandering playboy, right?”
