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Chapter 10
The next morning my dad calls early. I’m barely dressed in a pair of boy shorts and a spaghetti strap top, putting on a thin layer of makeup so I can get out the door and to the Pier Café. He rarely calls before noon so I answer, worry creeping over me.
“Everything okay, Daddy?”
“Yes. I just wanted to see if you were interested in joining me and Greer for a matinee this afternoon.”
“That’s very thoughtful but I’m actually out of town on vacation. I was going to call you later today and tell you.” I totally blanked about letting him know about my impromptufake-cation.
“Oh? Where are you?”
“Malibu. With Rigger. He dragged me here kicking and screaming.”
“I bet,” he chuckles. “Are you trying to get your mind off Devin, kitten?”
“Yes,” I answer, sighing for dramatic effect. It’s a lie of course. But not a hurtful one. And really, it’s working. My mind hasn’t been on Devin hardly at all.
“Alright. I’ll have Shanda take over your marketing for the next few days.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can still work while I’m here.”
“I wouldn’t dream of making you work, sweetheart. Take the time you need. Shanda can handle it.”
I paint my brows with a pencil, thinking it would be nice to not have to juggle work and Ben. “Thank you. And tell Shanda I said thank you too.”
“I will, I will.” His voice sounds low and distant. Off. It’s not like him to go to movies during the week, or during the day. He could be trying to please Greer but I’m picking up on something else.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Just run down. This new line is keeping me up at night.”
“Like, in a bad way?” Losing sleep to a new line of clothing is nothing new for my dad. But generally it’s because he’s energized, excited.
“Something like that.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
He groans. “Supplier issues for starters, and now there’s a hiccup with the venue we were going to use for one of the shows.”
Someone knocks at the door, making me jump. I walk out of the bathroom and peer through the peephole only to see Rigger standing there, making a weird face at me. I tug the door open and his face flips back to normal, eyes sweeping over me as he walks in.
“I knocked on the other door, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“I’m on the phone with my dad,” I whisper.
He nods, pushes the door closed and moves to the table.
“So do you have a new venue picked out?” I ask.
“Working on it. Officer Shuttee’s wife works as an events coordinator at a resort in Scottsdale and she’s going to see if we can reserve a ballroom there for a pre-show. It’s better than nothing, I suppose.”
“Shuttee? You still talk with him?” He was assigned to my mom’s homicide years ago. I had no idea my dad still kept up with him.
“I sure do. In fact, I got some interesting news when I spoke with him yesterday evening.”
“Interesting how?”
“The man who was killed, Peter Snowden was his name, they found some evidence at the murder scene.”
