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“Never,” I assured her.
“What?” she shrieked. “You need to get your butt back to his club again tonight and bag that trophy.”
I wished we were on video chat so she could see my look of horror. “Since when did you get so mercenary?” I asked.
“Since realizing how expensive doctor visits and baby stuff is.”
Lynn worked as an elementary school teacher and Andrew worked for his father’s solar panel company so I knew they made a pretty good living, but I understood her stress with all the changes coming up in her life.
“Still, I’m not bagging anyone,” I said.
“But you just gave me a bunch of delicious details about how perfect he was.”
I closed my eyes and let myself relive some of those memories again, then shook my head. “It’s better to let it stay perfect. Trying to recreate it would be folly.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said.
“Yes, but you love me. Goodbye.”
I ended the call to her laughter, but I didn’t want to hear her cajoling me into seeking out Ivan again. I needed to get my life back on track before it was too far off the rails and haunting his club in hopes he’d take notice of me again wasn’t part of the plan. In truth, I didn’t think my ego could take it if he’d gotten his fill of me. It was better to keep it perfect like I told Lynn.
I fired up my computer to start updating my resumé and scrolled the local news for a few minutes to try to get past my dread over looking for a new job. The mild anxious feeling was replaced with shock when I saw one of the headlines was about Jimmy, of all people.
Prominent Modeling Agent Victim of Violent Attack.
I was too shocked to roll my eyes at the news outlet calling him prominent, and clicked on the article. There wasn’t much, just that he’d been out with one of Talbot’s models and had been viciously beaten. He had numerous broken bones and was currently hospitalized in serious condition. I recognized the model’s name, since she was one I’d signed even though, if I were able to comb through Talbot’s records, I would have bet money that Jimmy was credited for it. I scrolled through my phone and found her number.
“It’s Reina Hall,” I said when she answered. “Are you all right? I saw the news just now.”
“Oh my God, Reina,” she said. “It was awful, but I’m fine. We were coming out of a restaurant last night down on South Beach and these two men cornered us on a little side street. They told me to turn and face the wall and I swear I thought I was about to be shot, but they never laid a finger on me.” Her voice broke. “But they really laid into Jimmy.”
“You couldn’t identify them at all to the police?”
“No, they had on masks and kept their heads down before they made me turn around. They had strange accents, but I couldn’t place them. Maybe some kind of European.”
I made a disgusted noise. “The things people do for a little bit of money.”
“That’s the strange thing,” she said. “They didn’t take anything from either of us, and you’ve probably seen Jimmy wears a Rolex.”
I suppressed a grumble. Yes, I’d seen it. He couldn’t do anything without ostentatiously waving it around. Well, having a cast on his arm might keep him from doing that for a while. Was that too unkind? Not that he’d ever shown me any kindness, or even basic decency. I wished her well and told her I was glad she was okay.
“Sorry you won’t be working at Talbot’s anymore,” she said.
I ended the call. Maybe if she and some of the other models hadn’t given in to Jimmy’s dubious charms and switched loyalties, she wouldn’t have to be sorry. Ivan was right; I was better off without that lousy agency and their unethical practices. I wondered what he’d have to say if he knew about this, after I’d talked his ear off at the club last night about how awful Jimmy was. It was a funny coincidence. Funny if Jimmy hadn’t been hurt so badly, that was.
I shrugged as I found my resumé, ready to start the slog of looking for a new job. I didn’t need to feel bad about what happened to that rat. As far as I was concerned, he got what he deserved. I chalked up my stunning lack of sympathy to the fact it was his fault I needed to find a new job in the first place.
***
Six Weeks Later
I found a new job—as a barista. I knew I should be grateful to have work at all, and I was happy to still be in Miami. I loved it here. But I came here to rise up in the ranks of the modeling business, with the endgame of running my own agency one day in the far off, hazy future. I didn’t want to be here if I was just scraping by.
I had resumés out at every agency in town, and even put a few calls into people at smaller markets up north in Tampa and Orlando. I considered those places less than ideal since there just wasn’t as much work as here in Miami, so it was a real blow when no one wanted me there, either. I suspected my reputation had been poisoned either by Darla or Jimmy himself, but I struggled not to be bitter about it. I was good at my job. Well, not the barista one. I downright sucked at that and hated it, but I was a good talent booker. I was going to give it a few more months of calls and meetings before I packed it in and went home to Kansas.
I really didn’t want to pack it in. I still couldn’t bear all the memories there, good and bad alike. And the bitterness with the incompetent police who didn’t seem to try at all to find Dad’s killer had been eating me alive. I could barely function and had a bad feeling that the whole cycle would start again if I was back in that environment.
Steam billowed over the top of the cup of cappuccino I was preparing and scalded my hand. I barely kept from spilling the whole thing and blinked back tears as I handed it over to the customer. My replacement was late and I’d been on my aching feet for over eight hours. On top of that, I’d been feeling sick for the last several days. It had been getting progressively worse, sneaking up on me at all hours of the day and making me run for the bathroom to spew whatever I’d managed to eat. Right now I was alternating between starving and barely keeping my roiling stomach under control.
