Mavis Freestone, former grifter, current rock star, mother of one with another on the way, had her hair in a spilling fountain of twisty curls tinted electric blue. A tiny woman, at least from Eve’s stance of five-ten (without the stilts), she wore glittery, gleaming gold that hugged her impressive baby mountain like loving arms.
Eve figured she could’ve put her fist through the hoops dangling from her ears.
Beside her, Nadine Furst, ace on-camera reporter, bestselling crime writer, Oscar winner, and cohab of Avenue A’s front man, wore a gown of smoky red. A sophisticated hue in a sophisticated cut that left one well-toned shoulder bare. She’d rolled her streaky blond hair into some sort of twist. A couple of jeweled pins sparkled in it.
Mavis spotted them first. Her face, already glowing, lit like the sun. “You’re here! No dead bodies!”
“Night’s young,” Eve said, and put a hand on Mavis’s shoulder before her oldest friend tried to haul her baby mountain out of the chair.
Roarke bent down to kiss her cheek, then Nadine’s. “Breathtaking, both of you. How fortunate am I to share a table with three stunning women? Ah, and here’s yet another,” he added when Louise and Charles approached the table.
Dr. Dimatto did stun, Eve supposed, in a pale lavender gown that looked delicate enough air might tear it. And somehow added the faintest lavender tint to her gray eyes. Beside her, tall and lean, Charles Monroe looked as if he’d been born in a tux.
The doctor who’d turned her wealthy upbringing on its ear by openingand running a free clinic, and the former licensed companion, now sex therapist, made a solid couple, a solid marriage.
So hug time postponed sit-down time.
“Get a load of us,” Mavis said with another giggle. “We’re all mag to the ex. You ever figure it, Dallas, you and me, duded to the mega max and doing the totally uptown gala thing?”
“No.”
“And she’d still rather be chasing a psycho down a dark alley.”
Eve looked at Nadine, and thought it was good to have friends who knew you.
“Yes.”
“Ah, let it chill, Dallas. Lap up the moment. This is my last gig before Number Two makes an entrance.”
“I don’t have to ask how you’re feeling,” Louise said as she took her seat. “I can see it. Not much longer now.”
“How do you perform carting all that around?”
Mavis’s eyes twinkled at Eve. “Wait and see. The guys’ll be here soon. Leonardo just stepped out to tag August, make sure everything’s aces at home with Bella. He’s spending the night because it’ll be a long one.”
Since she’d run August, the nanny, former military, solid, Eve didn’t worry there. Plus, Peabody and McNab shared the big, rambling, sort of fascinating house.
“Jake’s with us,” Nadine said. “They’ve spread the band around the tables before they take the stage.”
Leonardo swept in wearing what Eve imagined he considered a tux with a long, billowing coat that reminded her of dusters in old Western vids. His hair didn’t fountain like Mavis’s, but it did spill in curls around his wide, copper-hued face.
He shook Roarke’s hand, bent to kiss Eve, then repeated with Charles and Louise.
“And how is the beautiful Bella?” Charles asked.
“Perfect. Just perfect. They’re having a dance party. August said Bella claimed since Mama and Daddy went to a party, she should have one, too. So Peabody and McNab came over and they’re having a dance party before bedtime.”
“You’ve made a happy home.”
Leonardo beamed at Charles as his big hand covered Mavis’s.
People began to take their seats at their tables when Jake came in from a door to the left of the stage. Then several of them jumped up again. So Eve watched as he did the walk, stop, talk, and in his case, pose for a selfie or sign the evening’s program.
A good guy, she thought. He handled it all smooth as silk, patient and easy, but still making progress. Rather than a tux, he wore rock star black—jeans, shirt, leather jacket, and boots that suited his tall, lean frame.
No colorful streaks in the black mane tonight, she noted.
When he finally got to the table, Nadine poured him a glass of wine. “You earned it.”
