It didn’t seem like the kind of place where people dressed like ghouls jumped out from behind doors. Big open space, white walls, fresh paint. Wood floors that creaked with each step, but in a homey sort of way. It reminded me of a loft apartment with a small, modern kitchen on one side and a painted white fireplace on the other. Exposed brick on the outer wall that held two big windows that overlooked the lake.
“What do you think?” Jasmine said as Frida’s nails lightly clicked across the floor. “So spacious for a one-bedroom, right? It’s almost two. There’s a tiny room over here that could be an office or study—do you play an instrument or paint?”
“Uh, no. I wish I did,” I said. “I like to read.”
“Me too. Fen is named after a fennec fox in my favorite book,The Little Prince. Serj named all our children but Fen. He was my little fox.”
Huh. I didn’t know that.
“Anyway, plenty of wall space for bookshelves,” she said,walking toward the big windows. “Pretty view of the lake. Wouldn’t a piano look nice right here? A baby grand.”
That jostled something in my memory, but I couldn’t rememberwhat, exactly.
“I suppose so?” I said.
“Do you like classical music?”
“I like all kinds of music,” I said, unsure why she was asking me this. It felt like bait, as if she were looking for a certain answer. That made me more nervous than I already was. And why was she trying to push this apartment on me? The girlfriend that Eddie apparently forgot to mention to his parents. She was hinting around that she knew Eddie kept secrets, and yet she wanted to reward him with a beautiful apartment?
I was confused. Maybe it was because my dad and I didn’t operate this way.
She abandoned her questions about my interests and just stared out the window, saying, “You’d be close to everything on the Strip. The streetcar stops outside, so if you worked anywhere downtown, there’s your transportation. Groceries at the corner store, a block away.”
Sounded wonderful. There had to be a catch. “Where’s your house from here?” I asked, just to make conversation. I knew vaguely that they lived in a multimillion-dollar home on the other side of the lake—everyone knew. Just like everyone knew that Mad Dog summered in the lodge. It was common knowledge around Condor. Sometimes you’d see their living room in the background of photos that Eddie posted online. I’d just never been there in person.
She squinted and pointed. “You can’t really see it, but we’re ri-i-ight across the lake. It’s a villa on the southern side. Below the Mission Bluff.”
Right. Mission Bluff, where they held Battle of the Bands. That made me think of Fen and how he helped me find Velvet that disastrous afternoon. Unfortunately, I was nearly positive Velvet was hanging out with that same cocaine girl from Mission Bluff tonight. Yet another problem I didn’t know how to fix.
“What are your plans?” Jasmine asked. “I know that your accident has put a crimp in your future. I can’t imagine it’s been easy, going through speech therapy.”
This caught me off guard. “You know about, uh, my aphasia?”
She nodded and pushed dark hair over one shoulder. “From Fen, not from Eddie. He didn’t tell me anything about you, I’m afraid. Eddie and Serj keep a few secrets from me.”
I didn’t like that. “Why?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect it has to do with Mad Dog.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like to circle around matters, so I’ll ask you this, woman to woman, and you can answer if you like. Are you Mad Dog’s daughter?”
Heat rushed through my neck and ears. “No. That’s a…” Word. What’s the word? “People talk. But it’s not true. My dad says wild horses couldn’t stop him from being my father.”
She relaxed and let her head loll back to laugh quietly at the ceiling for a moment, but not in a mean way. “I’m glad to know the truth, because I admire Mad Dog, but I quite like your father.You can just tell sometimes what people are made of inside—if you really pay attention. And I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it.”
“My father likes you too,” I said.
She glanced at my hand. “I noticed you tap your fingers in a rhythm. Is that to help your memory, or your speech?”
“Both. It’s connected,” I said, stilling my hand against my leg. “It’s a little trick I taught myself. Music helps when I’m stressed, and sometimes I can sing the sentence I’m trying to say—inside my head? And I’ll remember the word I’m missing.”
“Fascinating. Someone in my Ladies Guild at church was telling us about a friend in San Francisco who’s studying music for therapeutical applications. I believe she’s doing it so that she can work with the elderly, in hospice. Music can be very healing.” She cocked her head to the side. “Our church choir is always looking for younger members.… Do you happen to sing?”
I shook my hand. “Not where anyone can hear me, no ma’am.”
“Understood,” she said, smiling. “Tell me, Miss Jane, what did you mean when you said earlier that Eddie had not texted you back?”
I hesitated. “He hasn’t answered my texts since he left last week. I was hoping you could tell me if he was okay.”
“I see.…” Her brows knitted together. “Actually, he isn’t responding to me, either. Serj says he’s heard from our lawyer, and that they’ve arrived on the private island—that they had some small complications with customs, but that things are going all right now.”
