“Don’t look at me like that.” Jana twitched like a nervous kid who’d been caught shoplifting.
Lyla remained silent, knowing if she gave Jana enough rope, the girl would hang herself.
Jana threw her hands up. “All bookings are cancelled, okay? No one feels they can promote you when you’re known for your voice—not your ability to play whatever musical instrument you were going to play at the shows you revised.”
This didn’t come as a surprise. In fact, Lyla had expected it, but there was something else going on here. She could smell it, and it stank like someone microwaving leftover fish in the company breakroom. “And?”
After another pained glance all around, Jana bowed her head and covered her eyes. “You were right. Derrick was embezzling. That attorney you insisted I hire brought in a forensic accountant. They found everything. Without much effort at all, from what I understand. Again, just like you said.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Luckily, when you locked down Derrick’s access to all the financials and forced him to request approval for every transaction, it kept him from cleaning youout completely.” She shrugged again. “But that’s why he took off. You called it.”
“Can we get any of it back?” Lyla fisted her hands, forcing herself not to clear her throat. It only made the hoarseness worse rather than better. Why in the world had she not listened to her instincts earlier? She’d let that thieving accountant steal her blind before she’d gone scorched earth on him and done something about it. But worse than that, while the lowlife was padding his pockets, he’d talked his way into her bed. How pathetic was she? “Well? Can we get any of it back?”
Jana flinched. “Doubtful. Especially since he skipped the country. Probably gone somewhere that doesn’t easily extradite to the U.S. Even if we found him, it could take forever to get him back here for justice.”
Lyla snorted. “There is no justice in this world. If there was, I wouldn’t sound like a bullfrog every time I open my mouth.” She closed her eyes, cringing at allowing herself to sink into a pity party. Self-pity helped nothing.
“At least Derrick didn’t get his hands on that settlement.” Jana gave her a less-than-sympathetic smile.
“Keep your optimism. I’m not in the mood for it.” What she was in the mood for was something in her life to go right for a change. Leaving Jana behind, she made her way to the jellyfish exhibit. All the ads promised it was a tranquil, relaxing escape. If she ever needed tranquil and relaxing and, most of all, an escape, it was now.
A botched surgery had robbed her of her voice and ended her singing career, the only thing she’d ever dreamed of doing for as far back as she could remember. And while laid up and frustrated with the useless voice therapy sessions, she’d scrolled through her financial files one day and discovered Derrick’s thievery. He’d gotten sloppy, thinking no one ever looked over his shoulder. The entries were so laughable that even herbasic accounting skills could spot the discrepancies. When she’d locked him out of the accounts, he’d howled a little too loudly about having his feelings hurt and taken off like a bat out of hell. The attorney she’d hired had only confirmed what she had already known.
Jana drew up beside her, standing there quietly, staring at the softly glowing jellyfish tank. “Didn’t that new advisor say you’d be fine financially? Better than fine, even?” She attempted a light-hearted laugh that sounded as fake as everything else about her. “And I don’t get paid unless you get paid, remember? No ticket sales means no ten percent of the gate for me.”
“Then it appears you are wasting your day on a client who’s not bringing you in any money.” Lyla shoved her hands in her pockets again. “It’s getting late. Shouldn’t you be meeting with someone who’ll help you keep the lights on?”
“Look, I know I haven’t always been a good friend…or evenafriend sometimes, but you know I’ve always only wanted what was best for you.” With a half-hearted tug on Lyla's sleeve, Jana tipped her head toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s head back across the river. I’ll buy you dinner and a Cincinnati cocktail.”
“Just what I need. Watered-down beer.”
“You said you liked it. Especially the ones from that microbrewery closest to your apartment.” She tugged again. “Come on. We’ll eat first, then enjoy a few while we figure out the next stepping stone on your life path. Get a psychic reading or something about what the future holds. It’ll be fun.”
Lyla had her doubts about thefunlevel of the evening especially in her current mood. All she really wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers until the world and all its misery left her alone. But then her stomach growled loud enough to make a few of the other aquarium visitors look her way.
“See?” Jana said. “It’s a sign.” She hooked her arm through Lyla's and pulled. “And knowing you, it’s probably been a whilesince you last ate. You never eat when you’re writing music. Wasn’t that a new piece I heard when I picked you up? I don’t remember hearing it before. When did you work that one out?”
“Forever ago. I’ve heard it in my dreams for years now and wrote it for the flute and the violin already. I wrote it for them first, because it’s always one of those instruments I hear playing it. For some reason, the piano needed its version today. It covers a wider range.” That song was the closest thing to a best friend that Lyla had ever had. It understood her. Comforted her when she was at her worst and celebrated her at her best. She’d never connected with another piece of music quite like that one. It was the song of her heart. Special. Somehow, it sort of bothered her that Jana had overheard it. That song was private. Meant for her alone.
“It was pretty,” Jana said with uncharacteristic quietness. “Otherworldly.” Quickening her stride as they exited the aquarium and crossed the street to the paid parking lot, she got that look in her eye that Lyla knew meant trouble. “Why don’t you?—”
“No.” Lyla held up a hand to stop her. “Not another word. That song is mine alone. If I could bleach your brain and make you forget it, I would.”
Jana grinned. “Tell the bartender that when we order our drinks. Maybe he can help you out.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Aww…feckin’ hell! This canna be happening. Not again.”
Lyla scanned the parking lot for the upset female whose accent was not southern—unless it was southern Scotland. She spotted the young woman two rows over with her hands cupped around her eyes as she tried to see in the driver’s tinted window. “It’s broad daylight and no one else is in the lot except us,” she asked Jana. “Think it’s safe enough to go over and see if we can help her?”
“I’ll get out my taser and pepper spray just in case.” Jana dug around in the purse slung over her shoulder, pulled out both, and held one in each hand.
Concerned that her trigger-happy associate might misfire and accidentally hit her instead of an attacker, Lyla licked her finger and stuck it in the air. “It’s a bit windy for pepper spray. You don’t want to spray yourself—or me.”
“That’s what the taser is for. Just in case.”
“Have you been trained on that thing?” Lyla had her doubts about that as well, but the girl with the foreign accent appeared to be getting more upset, so she waved for Jana to follow. “Never mind. Come on. Just don’t shoot me with either of them.”
“I would never.”
