Page 123 of Flirting with Trouble

“Yes.” How the hell did he know?

“I got something for you.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey with a red ribbon around it and holds it up so I can see it before putting it in a bag. As he hands it to me, he says, “I have a message for you. Go to the place that reminds you of Olivier. Au revoir.”

“Thanks.” I head out of the bar, and suddenly the flowers in a vase make sense. They were on the table at the French café. I grab a cab and head there.

I’m too excited to slow down as I burst through the café door, quickly scanning every table, but Victory isn’t there, either.

“I take it you’re Wells?” the hostess asks.

“Yes, I am.”

“Give me just a moment.” She heads into the kitchen and comes out with a large bag. As she hands it to me, she says, “Your next stop is where you rubbed elbows with celebrities.”

“Thanks!” My mind skips through memories as I put the bag with the whiskey bottle in the larger bag where several to-go containers are giving off savory aromas.

I rush out and grab another cab, heading to the rooftop bar where I crashed Cage’s birthday party. When I get up to the roof, I search for Victory again, but she’s nowhere to be found. I head over to the bar, and a young brunette calls after me. “Are you Wells?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“The person who told me to look for you sent a picture. Sorry, I was supposed to meet you at the door, but I had to take care of something in the kitchen. Come with me.”

I follow her back to the entrance, and she hands me a bakery box. “Good luck unscrambling your next clue.”

“Thanks.” I wait for her to give me the clue, and when she doesn’t, I say, “Do you have a message from Victory for me?”

“No, sorry. The woman who called said to just give you the box, but her name was Victorious, not Victory.”

That’s my girl. “Thanks.” I head out perplexed, and when I get in the elevator, I open the box. There are two pink-frosted cupcakes, and on the inside of the box top, she’s drawn Scrabble tiles with the letters Z, P, E, E, L, T, R, S on them. You sweet, sneaky thing.

I spend the next fifteen minutes standing on the sidewalk trying to reconfigure the letters into a word. It’s hard to think when I’m anxious to see her. When I finally figure it out, I shout, “Pretzels!” The people walking by look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Little do they know I’ve just found it.

Another car takes me to the pretzel vendor where Leni and Raz caught us kissing. As I approach the portly vendor, he grins like he has a secret, and I realize Victory probably showed all of her helpers a picture of me. “Hi. I’m guessing you know who I am.”

“Yes, sir. You’re one lucky guy, if you ask me.” He reaches behind the cart and opens a shopping bag, showing me a Scrabble game.

I laugh to myself, because we were sitting by the fireplace in her apartment two nights ago, and we both said, We should get a Scrabble game at the exact same time. “Please tell me I don’t have to unscramble all the letters in that game.”

“She didn’t say anything about unscrambling. But she did say she liked the idea of kicking your butt in the game.” He hands me the bag and says, “Go to the place where you first promised to be there for her and swore by those five words.”

I thank him and repeat what he said as I walk away, trying to puzzle it out. Promise to be there for her. Swear by those five words. Promise to be…I grin as understanding dawns on me and hurry down the street to the music store. When I head inside, Carey hollers from behind the register, “Dude!” and comes around the counter to greet me. “I’m not going to ask how things are going, because you are one lucky son of a bitch.”

“I’m not going to dispute that. I thought this place was temporary for you.”

“It is. I went out West for a while, and when I got back, the guy Drake hired to run the place flaked, so I offered to pitch in. But I’m heading home for the holidays. Then I’ll figure out what’s next.”

“Cool. Vic and I will be there for the holidays. Let’s get together.”

“Absofuckinglutely. She told me she’s been teaching you guitar. She says you’re getting the hang of it.” He looks at my bags and the bakery box. “She’s been sending you all over, huh?”

“It’s been a great trip down memory lane.”

“Well, what I’ve got for you is really special.” He takes out his phone and thumbs something out. “You have earbuds with you?”

“Yeah. Why?” My phone chimes with a text.

“I sent you a file. Listen to it when you leave here.”