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“What are you talking about?” His irritation stokes my anger. Emotionless when paying to have his wife killed, annoyed by the details.
“Hey, I don’t charge what I charge and not hand out the gold star package. What do you need me to do?”
“Don’t get caught.”
Obviously. “Hard to spend eight mil behind bars. I need half up front.” More silence. Is he going over the implications of actually paying someone to off his wife? It’s one thing when a couple of homeless guys get approached by a man they’ve never seen before, can’t identify, and will never see again. It’s another when I know exactly who this is.
“Look, man. My services are available to the highest bidder, and right now, that rich little girl is the winner.”
That’s enough to make the garbled voice grit out, “Fine. Where do I send it?”
I rattle off an overseas account I’ve used for years. “It’s an alias, of course. Do what you have to do to make it as untraceable as possible, but I’m not doing the job until I have at least half.”
“If you don’t, the next attempt will be for both of you.”
“You can try,” I say before I hang up and stare at the screen. The emotions pumping through my veins don’t match the steadiness of my thoughts. It’s too early to celebrate. Roman wants Penelope dead. So predictable. But I don’t have all the information, and that’ll be what makes this dangerous.
* * *
Penelope
I tape one last box.Mother appears next to me with the address label.
She slaps it on and beams. “I know my assistant could’ve done all this, but I had fun today.” She grabs me in a one-armed hug.
I smile, but the melancholy I’ve been fighting for days barely fades. It’s Wednesday, and I should be teaching my students how to tango. It’s my favorite dance to teach. They begin all stiff and unsure, then morph into the dramatic overacting they’ve seen on shows and parodies before the steps become second nature and they nail their presentation.
I miss it. All of it. I miss my students. I miss teaching. I miss dancing. And it’s been a week.
I’ve been at Mother’s. I haven’t gone anywhere. I message London and Holland daily, but that’s it. I chat with the housekeeper, and I talk to the other staff, but each day that passes, those interactions happen less. Mother’s discreetly limiting access to the house to everyone but her, me, and Cannon.
The only good thing about this ordeal is that I’ve learned a lot about running a business by working with her. She’s shown me her records, how she tracks expenses and revenue, and she mentored me as I outlined a five-year business plan. She’s doing what we both wished she would’ve done with life lessons before I was kicked out of the nest, and I’m grateful for her, but more thankful to have a better relationship with her than ever.
I hug her back. “I enjoyed it too.” We’ve been bagging her smoothie mixes and recipe cards with swag for her top-tier customers prior to the mainstream launch. “I just wish the police could find some answers.”
“I know. It’s frustrating. Are you sure you don’t want me to give my old friend a call?”
Mother’s “old friend” is a defense attorney she dated seriously a few years after the divorce. But the guy wanted a wife and kids, and Mother wanted a partner in life. She doesn’t want to do the marriage thing or have any more children.
I didn’t understand then. I was a young newlywed when they broke up. Roman hadn’t popped the bubble on my fantasy yet. But I get it now.
Will I ever be willing to remarry? The instant recoil in my belly says no, but I hope my feelings toward marriage will heal over time.
I wanted kids. If Roman had asked, I would’ve trashed all my birth control. But he didn’t. I waited. I opened a studio and got to work with kids there. But they weren’t mine. Teaching them an eight count and how to match their steps to the beat of a song isn’t the same as witnessing their first steps or tucking them in at night.
I’m not in a place for a fresh start yet, but a new beginning won’t exactly be fresh. Not without Roman’s betrayal burned into my soul.
“No, you don’t need to call him, but thanks.” After the attacks and admitting that Newland wasn’t good at his job, I let him go. The police will find out who’s behind the attacks. They have to. I can’t live in fear for years. And I don’t want to move and start over if someone’s out there looking for me. “I need to talk to my lawyer, and I should probably tell her about what’s going on. We might have to meet online.”
Distress lines Mother’s youthful face. “I should’ve done more to keep you from marrying him. Just another one of my parenting regrets.” She puts her hands on her hips. “At least you didn’t go into acting. I consider that a win.”
“And I didn’t marry an actor.”
Her expression is mock horrified. “Oh, honey. There’s only room for one diva in my life.”
I laugh, glad we can joke like this. “That makes me the diva, then, because you’re so not.”
“At one time I was. But puberty hit and expectations changed. Reality landed pretty hard. I liked acting, but I like being in charge of my own destiny, and maybe that’s what I regret not teaching you. Yet I’m so damn proud that you learned it yourself. I had no idea how a studio would work, not in this expensive town. You’d have to hustle for business. You’d have to scrimp and save and…” She shakes her head, her eyes glistening. “I’m really proud of you. You did it without Roman’s help.”
