I’m a bit surprised by the familiarity with which she says Solo’s name.
“You’ve met him, then?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, a few times,” she provides. “But we mostly speak on the phone. He helps me out if there are any legal hiccups with the gold shipments my family receives from the Middle East. In case you didn’t know: us Gaddafis have luxury jewelry stores in Anaheim. And while our products are designed and created here, the materials we use for them come directly from the UAE. Paperwork for stuck shipments can be quite troublesome, and despite having contacts at the Anaheim P.D., I still face a lot of minor issues here and there trying to get the shipment out without losing it to the customs authorities. Sometimes they interfere in my business just to get a substantial cut from me under the table, and sometimes they do it in order to fill their bags with gold that belongs to me and my sister. That’s where Solo comes in. His connections are widely rooted in many citiesthroughout the country, so all it takes is for him to make a call, and everything sorts itself out, and I don’t even have to pay extra for the items I ordered legally – for my very legal business.”
I quirk a brow. “Legal, huh?”
Her lips uptick as her eyes gleam. “If a few AK-47s and grenades happen to find their way into some of the carts, I can’t exactly blame the seller for it, now can I?”
I laugh a little. “Uh huh.” I twirl her under my arm yet again, then move us further into the room.
“You still haven’t told me who you’re looking for, you know,” she pushes again.
I catch myself absentmindedly glancing around the hall, but quickly look down at her.
“Timothy Byron,” I declare, but soft enough so that only she can hear.
“I saw him on the first floor a while ago,” she says.
“With two upper classes?”
She nods. “The stepson and daughter of a movie producer from Los Angeles, yes.”
“Well, he isn’t there now. Dunno where he ran off to.” I sigh and stretch my neck sideways to get rid of some of the tension there. “Honestly, it’s been a long fucking night, and all I wanna do is be done with this mission so that I can go home and get some shuteye. Is that too much to ask?”
“In your line of work, yeah,” she tells me, making me laugh again.
“You remind me so much of Jayce,” I confess, then shake my head as I let go of an exhale. “He was my be–”
“Your best friend and brother, I know.” Her eyes crinkle around the corners as her expression softens.
“Let me guess: Solo?”
She smiles. “You’d be correct.” When I don’t say anything, she stops dancing and lets go of my hand, then gestures for meto follow her. Walking over to the far-left corner of the hall, she grabs two flutes of champagne from a server, then offers one to me before settling down on the small, black-velvet divan before us.
“Come on,” she urges, patting the empty space next to her. “Timothy clearly isn’t here, and I’m done dancing for the night. Let’s just wait and see what the others find out.”
I sit down next to her, then twist the flute between my thumb and forefinger as I study the fizzy, golden liquid inside it. “I’m on the clock right now; I can’t drink alcohol.”
She grabs the flute from me, prompting me to look at her. “More for me, I suppose.”
I snort, then glance to my right, only to groan and look away. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I mutter.
She chuckles. “I take it you’ve gotten a taste of the goods?”
I once again glance at thespecialappetizer table to my right, then scowl and face Safiya. “Yes, unfortunately.”
She takes a slow swig of the champagne. “Hmm… Was it before or after you read the banner?”
“Thebannerwas added after the tragedy had already occurred, so I’ll say that me and the crew read it a few seconds too late.” I place the back of my head against the wall behind me, then widen my legs before placing my joined hands between them. “But even if wehadread the banner before trying those appetizers, we still wouldn’t have understood what it meant. It was only after Aras told us what we’d accidentally consumed that weknew, and I gotta say: it took the ground off from under me for a second. I mean, I’ve chopped people upmanytimes over the years, but I’ve…” I lift a shoulder. “I’ve never had the urge to, y’know…”
“Cook their flesh on a stick with vinegar-dipped vegetables? Yeah, I get it.” Safiya mimics my posture, then polishes off herchampagne before once again offering me mine. “Just drink it. It’s honestly not that strong.”
I chuckle as I take it from her, then down it in one go. “Fuck, that’s bad,” I say with a grimace, then place the flute on the floor next to the divan.
She grins as she, too, sets aside her glass. “Told you.”
“So…” I start, then raise a brow when she looks at me. “Haveyouever tasted thegoods?”
