Ambitious, yes. But the pieces are coming together.
Of course, I now realize that Jamie and Ryan have to be in on it, too. Bertrand only threatened Carmela with the photos of her. But the bastard still has Jamie’s pictures. And, frankly, I think he needs to meet with a little of Ryan’s wrath.
“And now that we’re all set on the extortion side of the equation,” I say, “let’s turn back to the equally important task of finding a birthday present for my husband.”
“Sexy lingerie?”
I shoot her a sideways look. “I’m shopping for Damien, not me.”
“Well, obviously. What girl wears sexy lingerie if it’s not for the guy? Without a guy it’s all snuggly flannel or soft cotton or totally ripped up sleep shorts and a threadbare T-shirt.”
I have to concede that she has a point. “Still, I was thinking of something to give him. Not to wear for him.”
“Well, I don’t have a clue.”
Neither do I, which is why we’re at a mall instead of one of the smaller, locally-owned boutiques where I prefer to shop. I’m hoping that wandering aimlessly through a shopping nirvana will jump-start my creative, present-buying mojo.
So far, my mojo is less than enthusiastic.
“A tie? Cuff-links? A really excellent walking stick?”
I just raise my brows.
“I’m only trying to be helpful.”
“Try harder,” I say, then laugh when Jamie sticks her tongue out at me.
“He is absolutely the hardest person in the world to buy for,” Jamie says.
“Tell me about it.”
“Just go with the party and call it a day,” she begs. “I want to get over to El Coyote and have a drink before dinner.”
“I could get him a book,” I muse. “A first edition Asimov or Bradbury? One he doesn’t already have, of course.” Damien loves sci-fi, and he has a small collection of first editions from his favorite authors.
“Not bad,” Jamie concedes. “We could go grab a drink and then hit Mystery Pier, that really cool bookstore by Whiskey A Go Go.”
“I think it’s closed now,” I point out.
“Then we just get the drink.”
I bump her hip. “Would you stop? We’ll be at dinner soon enough.”
“Drinks after?”
Now she’s just being a goof. “You’re going to have to settle for margaritas when we meet Wyatt. I’m booked after.”
“Really? I kinda thought we’d hang out tonight. I mean since Ryan’s working late. And Damien’s in Palm Springs. What’s he doing, anyway?”
“He went out with Jackson. Something about that retail center they’re building. They’re meeting the contractor in the morning.”
“See? You need company.”
I laugh. “Sorry. I told Evelyn I’d stop by on the way home. And after that, I’m digging in on my proposal.”
“For that company in Dallas?”
I nod, and she makes a face. “What?”
“Just you actually going out of your way to go back to Dallas. This might be one of the signs of the apocalypse.”
I roll my eyes, but the truth is, she’s right. Hell, I’d almost declined to submit a proposal for that very reason. But I’d pushed through, and told myself it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “It’s a global company in the downtown area of a very big city. It’s not like I’ll be moving back there. And I sure as hell don’t have to visit my old neighborhood.”
“Hey, if you’re cool, I think it’s great. Seriously.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I can’t deny that the conversation has watered my already planted seeds of doubt. “At any rate, you’re welcome to come back to Malibu with me. We’ll go to Evelyn’s, and then afterwards, you hang out while I work. Lounge in the hot tub or the media room. We can have a couple of drinks after I finish if it’s not too late, and you can crash in the guest suite.”
She considers, but shakes her head. “Ryan’s going to be late, but he’s still coming home.” She sighs loudly. “God, when did I get so domesticated?”
“It creeps up on you slowly,” I say completely deadpan.
“Isn’t that the truth? Anyway, tell Evelyn I said hi. And I still think the book idea is a good one. A really snazzy first edition would probably knock Damien’s socks off.”
“I’ll pop in tomorrow if I don’t come up with a more amazing idea in the meantime.” I still want something with a little more oomph, but I’m also still completely lacking in ideas.
“An old-fashioned shave?” She points to The Art of Shaving, just a few doors down from where we’re loitering. “Hot towels. A straight razor?”
Since that’s not a terrible idea, I head that direction. We pass by a display of sexy lingerie, and I pause—because of course Jamie’s put the idea in my head—and then I come to a complete stop, my hand reaching out to grip Jamie’s wrist as ice courses through my veins.
“Jamie.”
“Hey—shit, Nikki, what is it?”
“No,” I whisper even as I whip around to face the reality I saw reflected in the window.
Mother?
But now that I’m turned around, there’s nothing there. But I’d seen her. I’d seen her. Behind me. Near the escalator.
Didn’t I?