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“What?” She shot me a look. “Now, hold on. You’d better be screwing with me right now.”
“Don’t tell anybody. I don’t need rumors going around.”
“How the hell are you going to just not tell anybody? And let him walk all over you?” She gestured widely. “London, If something like that is going on, there’s a lot more to this than just a workplace feud.”
I put a hand over my forehead. “I know. And I plan on dealing with it. María doesn’t need to get involved. She isn’t my mother. And there’s too much else already going on right now.”
“Still.” She paused. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Not if this place folds, I won’t.” I sighed, hard, slouching over my desk. “If I’m out of a job, finding an apartment is going to be a wild ride.”
She checked both ways before she stepped in closer, lowering her voice. “Have you started looking? For another job, I mean. I’m loyal to the end, but I’m not playing with accounting fraud.”
“I’m not ditching this place.” I stood up. “I have a new client I’m taking on, anyway. To the point where María took me off everything else I’m doing and has me working just on one.”
“Oh, damn.” Her eyes widened. “Someone famous?”
“María told me to keep it quiet, at least for now. All I’ll say is it’s enough money to get us through this and make sure Queen Pearl gets back on its feet.” And for me to make sure I’d have a job. If this went through, the bonus I’d take home from it—well, finding a new place to live would hardly be a problem. And if it didn’t?
Ruth studied me a while longer before she sighed. “Just don’t get yourself killed trying to pull this off, okay? And watch your back. If Miguel really is involved in your home situation, well…”
“Right.” I put a hand up. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
She folded her arms. “Make sure you rest this weekend, all right?”
I laughed. “Yeah… I’ll treat myself. I’m going to the LIV Sunday party.”
“Clubbing?” She raised her eyebrows high. “Never thought I’d see the day. Shouldn’t you be going to a gay bar or something?”
“I’m not going to pick up women. Just…” I shrugged. There was no use trying to explain how it was for work. “Just blowing off some steam?”
She thrust her hands in her pockets. “Well, damn. All right, then, London. Have fun.”
∞∞∞
The place was loud. Ruth was right—I wasn’t a nightclub girl. Amelie must have been half-deaf, if María’s intel was right that she came here at least twice a month.
Cameron Mercier’s personal assistant, Amelie Douglass was María’s best lead she could find for a quick pickup before my and Cameron’s meeting on Tuesday. Make friends with the assistant, María had always told me, and the client’s all yours. She’d been positively giddy when she’d scored the juicy intel about Amelie’s regular clubgoing here.
She’d also warned me the Sunday party here was a big one, but I hadn’t really realized the scale of it all. The crowd pressed in on me from all sides as I got to the dance floor, hands in the air, cheering, moving to the music, a thumping hip-hop number that made my teeth rattle. Streaks of blue and purple neon shone down from the dome-shaped ceiling, lighting up the dance floor, and I pushed my way out to the sides, where I managed to sneak a seat at the bar to order a Cosmopolitan. The bartender, strong and silent type, went about making it without a word, not that I’d have heard him if he’d said anything, and I took the opportunity to scan the crowds.
Amelie’s look was distinctive, María had told me—long black hair and glasses with blood-red rims. Still, in the low lights here, it was impossible to make out much of anything, except—well, except for the man in a muscle tee sliding in next to me with a sly smile.
“Hey—”
“Gay,” I said. He raised his eyebrows.
“What’d you say?”
“I’m gay. Sorry. Thanks.”
He scowled. “Well, fuck you too,” he said, turning away, and every now and then, I enjoyed the curse thing, because he moved to stand up and something gave in the barstool with a crack and pitched him forwards, and he staggered face-first into the back of a bigger guy, who shot him a look. Tough-guy act immediately gone, he scampered into the crowd just as the bartender set down my drink.
“Good news, then,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Girl at the table there’s been giving you some eyes.”
“What?”
He cracked a dry, sardonic smile. “Assuming you actually are gay and weren’t just getting rid of the guy.”
