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“Angel!” I beam—and slide a twenty across the desk. “I so appreciate it.”
I’m whisked back to get a long shampoo and scalp massage, which is so blissful, I almost forget about my top-secret mission here.
Almost.
When I’m settled in the salon chair with my stylist, Frederik, I get my game face back on and make the usual small talk: guy troubles, vacation, charity work, super happy life.
Not a word is true, but I keep it vague.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell him, as he lops a couple of inches off my straw split-ends. “Fiona said that this was the place to come for miracles. Fiona McKenna?” I add.
He brightens. “Oh, isn’t she a doll? You just missed her.”
“What a shame! She said she practically lives here, with all the political events she and Ian attend.”
Frederik nods. “I like to joke that she’s my best customer. But tonight’s not a political event. They’re going to the ballet. Ian surprised her with tickets for her birthday last week. Isn’t he the sweetest?”
“He really is,” I agree with a smile. And so is Frederik, giving me the insider info I need.
We finish up my hair, and I pay—with a healthy tip. The minute I’m back in the car, I bring up the internet on my phone, and find ballet performances tonight.
Bingo. New York City Ballet are performing a special charity event of Don Quixote, in aid of some kids’ refuge. This must be it.
I send Nero a text message.
McKenna will be at the ballet tonight.
I send a link to the performance info, and his response comes less than a minute later. One short word.
Fine.
That’s it. No thank you or—God forbid—a little praise for doing a good job.
I should know better than to expect it. Nero is clearly still bound up in the past, and the way my father betrayed his family.
I just hope that things go well tonight. The sooner I secure him this vote, the sooner I can move on with my life.
And never lay eyes on the man again.
