He can’t see you, I mouthed.
“Just one second, Mr. Andrade—I mean, Dixon,” Nina said, her voice a vixenish trill. Nina clicked the intercom off and yanked open her top desk drawer, revealing a three-tiered makeup collection that Lanc?me would be jealous of. She puckered her lips and painted them a ravishing red, then powdered her cheeks an even paler shade of pale.
“I thought you were going to show the new UDA management who they’re dealing with. Weren’t you all about keeping the new guy in line?”
Nina snapped her compact shut and blotted her lips, then unbuttoned another button on her blouse. “Oh, I’m all about letting Dixon know who he’s dealing with.”
I rolled my eyes and Nina grabbed my arm, giving it a quick shake. “Oh, come on, Sophie. You have to admit he is a wonderful piece of dead man candy. I mean, those eyes, those lips, those fangs! You know what it means when a vampire has big fangs, don’t you?” Nina waggled her eyebrows and I groaned. “Besides, he’s got all the traits I adore in a man: He’s tall, dark and demonic.” She kicked up a happy leg and sauntered on her sky-high heels out the door, then poked her head back in. “Don’t wait up. I have a feeling I’ll be working late.”
Chapter Seven
The sun was slipping behind the fog when I got into my car and headed home. I was still annoyed with Alex and the prospect of finding—and facing—my father weighed heavily on me. I tried to erase it from my mind, or to call up images of all those wonderful father-daughter reunions on the Maury Povich Show and from Disney movies, but nothing helped. By the time I pulled into my designated parking space I was jumpy and grumpy.
I was reaching for my bag when a gentle tap-tap got my attention.
“Christ, Grandma, you scared the—”
Grandma narrowed her eyes, staring out at me from my rearview mirror. “Language, Sophie.”
“You scared me. What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk some sense into you.”
I raised my eyebrows and slumped back into my car seat. “Yeah?” The lady in the mirror was going to talk some sense into me? I didn’t know what was more nonsensical: Grandma showing up in my rearview mirror or me holding a conversation with her.
“Word around town is that you’re going to go looking for your father.”
“Word around town? Like, word in Heaven?” I whistled. “Sheesh, news travels fast up there.”
Grandma shrugged. “You can only play a harp for so many hours each day.”
“I guess.”
“Sophie, dear, don’t go looking for your father. It won’t help.”
“What do you know about my father?” I asked, feeling a familiar prick up the back of my neck. “If you know something, you should tell me.”
“I know enough about him to know that you should steer clear of him.”
“Grandma ...”
“Look,” Grandma said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do, honey, but listen to me: Don’t try to find him. It’s not worth it. Trust me on this.”
“So much for not telling me what to do.”
Grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t sass me, young lady. Mark my words: Your father is only going to let you down.” Grandma’s voice softened, and there was a moist wistfulness in her milky eyes. “Just like he let your mother down.”
“Grandma, don’t I deserve to know my father? At the very least, just to know a few things about him? Why would that be such a bad thing?”
Grandma sucked on her teeth and shook her head, her long dangly earrings jangling against her jawbone.
“I just need to know a few things about myself.”
“Like what?” my grandmother huffed. “I can tell you everything you need to know. You learned to ride a bike when you were seven. You’re a rubbish card player, you come from good Hungarian stock, and you have a weakness for anything with marshmallow in it.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Grandma relented, her shoulders noticeably sagging. “If you’re going to look for your father, you need to be prepared for what you find.”
I felt my shoulders stiffen. “Like what? What am I going to find out about him? You’re not telling me anything about him. No one is!”
“Even if I wanted to tell you about him—which I don’t—I couldn’t.” Grandma looked around, her eyes checking the corners of my rearview mirror. “It’s not something I can just talk about all willy-nilly out here.”
I was getting frustrated. “What can’t you talk about?”
My grandmother pursed her lips in an expression that tugged at my heart. I had seen it before whenever she was trying to protect me from something she didn’t think I could handle.
“I can handle whatever you tell me, Gram. And isn’t it better for me to find out things from you rather than on my own?”
“I’m sorry, Sophie,” Grandma said. “I’m sorry, honey, but I just can’t.”