26. Luna

26

"On high-school career day, they said you should dress for the job you want, so I wore a leotard." Luis poured the rest of the French martini down his throat. "I spent the day in the principal's office."

Aisha held up her hand for a high five. "But you got the last laugh, right?"

"So right."

This was just like the old days. Well, the pre-opening-night days. Me and my dancers having fun after work, chatting and giggling and indulging in a few drinks. Except we were in my hotel suite rather than the Peppermill. And I had a boyfriend and a dog, even if the boyfriend was on the other side of the world.

Ryder had called to let me know that he'd landed in Georgia, but he'd also warned me to expect radio silence for several days. He needed to focus.

I missed him already.

The suite Frank had comped me was bigger than my apartment and far more luxurious. Three bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a vast living-slash-dining area that had a view across Vegas on one side and the mother of all TV screens on the other. Paul and Venus had found a game console, and they were having a barefoot cocktail-fuelled dance-off against pink-haired robots, even though they'd just spent the whole evening on stage.

Boy, was I going to pay for this tomorrow.

But tonight, I was having fun.

And better yet, I was having fun without anyone taking pictures.

Venus beat the robot and flopped onto the couch beside me. "Are you gonna dance?"

"Maybe later."

The hotel staff—all female, as Frank promised—had brought up platters of snacks, and seeing as there was nobody to tell me not to eat cheese anymore, I was enjoying a tomato-and-mozzarella pastry. My costumes still fit, and that was all that mattered. Who knew that fooling around with a guy could burn so many calories?

"Aw, c'mon."

Paul gave her a warning look. "Don't."

"She's okay," Venus hissed back.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Aisha wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "They're just worried in case you're feeling bad about the breakup, but I think you're stronger than that."

"Breakup? What breakup?"

"With your hot bodyguard boyfriend. I'm so sorry it didn't work out."

"Huh? Why would you think we broke up? I mean, why would you even think I was involved with my bodyguard in the first place?"

"Oh, please. I've danced in, like, ten different shows, and you're the first celeb who lets their bodyguard inside their dressing room."

"And he always smells of your perfume," Venus added.

Luis took a pastry from the plate on my lap. "And you're always staring at his ass."

"Shit." Shoot. I meant shoot! Oh, what the hell, Mom wasn't here to tell me off for cursing anymore. "How many other people know?"

He shrugged. "Nobody's said a word. And we spend more time with you than anyone else?—"

"Anyone apart from the hot bodyguard," Venus squealed, giggling, then quickly straightened her face. "Sorry."

"We didn't break up, okay? He just has work stuff to do."

"Work stuff? Aren't you his client?"

"It's kind of a side project. Please, please can you keep this quiet? Ryder can't become a reality TV star."

"Uh, he knows who he's dating, right?"

"Yes, and he also knows that after Luna at the Palace finishes, I'm moving to Virginia and quitting showbiz."

"No way! You can't quit."

"Why not? I lost my record deal, and I'm so, so sick of my entire existence being splashed across the internet. I just want to sleep, walk my dog, and watch movies with my boyfriend. And maybe I'll try baking cookies?"

Luis gave up picking at my food and liberated the whole plate. "Well, I heard a rumour that Frank Serafini wants you to do another show here. A bigger, fancier show with special effects and more dancers."

"Really? Who told you that?"

"A guy from the management office who I may or may not have hooked up with. So, are you gonna come back, chica? You have to come back."

"Frank hasn't said anything to me."

"Only a matter of time. And you're looking at your number-one quartet of backup dancers right here."

They absolutely were. Without Mom here, I'd been able to form genuine friendships with my team, and it felt good. Plus they were super talented. Okay, the costumes would definitely need improvement, but now that I'd had a taste of creative control, I'd found it was addictive.

But so was Ryder.

Could I spend the rest of my life playing housewife?

Or if I was offered the chance to sing at the Palace again, would I take it?

Why did my head hurt so bad?

Why was my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth?

And what was that freaking banging?

I levered my eyelids open, but everything was fuzzy. Why couldn't I move my legs? There was a weight pinning them down, and Ryder's words filtered into my mind.

Concrete boots.

I struggled up to sitting, panic coursing through me, and saw?—

"Housekeeping." The woman pushing the cart gasped. "Ma'am, I'm so sorry. I tried knocking, but…"

I shoved Luis off my legs, and yuck, he'd drooled on my thigh. How much had we drunk last night?

"Doesn't matter." My words came out as a croak. "Water. I need water."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am."

I shook Luis as she ran to the kitchen. "Wake up, jackass."

Sheesh, we hadn't even made it off the couch. I swung my feet over the edge and stepped on Paul. Crap! Then I spotted Venus slumped in the armchair opposite, and where was Aisha?

Paul struggled to his knees and peeled a cheese pastry off his cheek.

"What the hell happened?"

At a guess? A thousand bucks' worth of top-shelf liquor and a total lack of respect for tomorrow. I tried to put that into actual words, but all that came out was "Need Tylenol."

The housekeeper hurried over with a tray. "Ma'am, I didn't know whether you wanted seltzer or still, ice or no ice."

Paul grabbed the nearest of the four glasses and chugged it, then choked on an ice cube. I smacked him on the back. Heck, we had a show tonight.

"Luis, wake up."

"Whaaaa?"

The door opened again, and Derek Monroe walked in, eyes wide. "What happened? Did we have a security breach?"

"No, we had room service." Speaking felt as if my throat were being sandpapered. "I think there's something wrong with your liquor. I've literally never felt this bad."

Derek glanced at the empty bottles on the coffee table. "I suspect that what's wrong with it was the quantity. I'd better order you some breakfast."

"I just need Tylenol."

"No, you don't. Tylenol on top of alcohol is bad for your liver. What you need is Advil, vitamins, juice, and carbs. Oh, and you need to call your boyfriend. He's worried about you."

Shit, everyone knew.

"Really?" I fished down the side of the cushions for my phone. "He hasn't— Oh."

The phone was on silent, and I had eleven missed calls, plus a bunch of messages that started with Call me when you have a moment and ended with Moon, you okay? Getting really fuckin worried here.

Dammit!

"I'll call him." Someone groaned in the second bedroom, and that had to be Aisha, didn't it? "Uh, I should…"

Derek glanced in that direction. "I've got it."

I staggered into my bedroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror by the closet. Yikes. The creature looking back at me was part zombie, part raccoon. Groaning, I sagged onto the bed. Then got up again and closed the door. What time was it in Georgia? Tbilisi was eleven hours ahead, and if I'd slept for as long as I feared I had, it must have been almost midnight. I squinted at the screen, but before I could dial, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I normally sent those to voicemail, but what if Ryder had borrowed a different phone?

"Hello?"

"OMG! Did you hear the news?"

What the heck? "Marcel?"

I hadn't given him my number, and I was seventy-five percent sure Ryder hadn't either.

"Of course. Who else would it be?"

Like, someone I actually wanted to speak with?

"What do you want?"

"Okay, so two things. One, I'm making chocolate fudge brownies, and Ryder said you're staying at the Nile Palace, so you need to tell the people at the front desk to let me past because I'm not leaving them lying around for some unscrupulous employee to eat."

"Right now, all I want is Advil."

"You're sick?"

"Apparently, I drank too much liquor."

"Then I'll bring milk thistle. You need to take care of your liver."

Why was everyone so worried about my liver today? "What's the second thing?"

"Oh, yes. Two, the landscaper found your agent's body this morning. Sin says gunshots were mentioned, and also a head injury, but the autopsy isn't even scheduled yet, so nobody knows for sure. I'm sorry for your loss."

What?

"Back up, back up. You're talking about Julius?"

"Julius Whitlow. The story made the local news, but not national. If you turn on the TV, you might see all the cops outside his home."

I didn't even know where he lived, not exactly, mainly because I didn't care. Someplace in the west of the city? I was almost sure Mom had mentioned Summerlin at one point.

"They found his body? Like, he's dead?"

"Flat out on his kitchen floor. The door to the terrace was unlocked, and it looks as though someone snuck up on him."

This…this was unbelievable. Julius was gone? No more? He hadn't been in touch since last week, when he'd sent over an offer from Taliska Records for an extra million, which I hadn't dignified with a response because it still included his services for five more years.

Who would have killed Julius?

My first thought was dark and ugly, and I wished I was able to discount it, but I couldn't.

Ryder.

"Do you know when he died?"

"No, but I hear the body wasn't in great shape, so probably a few days ago."

Which meant I still couldn't rule out Ryder. Every morning, he disappeared to go to the gym or do work stuff, but he could have made a detour to Summerlin. I should have gasped in horror, but honestly, I just hoped he'd been freaking careful.

"Well, thanks for letting me know."

I should send flowers to the funeral, shouldn't I? For appearances' sake.

"Don't forget to speak with the front desk."

I actually could use a brownie to celebrate. "I won't, I promise."

My next call was to Ryder, and he must have been holding his phone because he picked up on the first ring.

"Moon?"

"Sorry, sorry, I fell asleep. Luis and Venus decided we should go out for dinner, but I knew you'd hate that, so we got room service in my suite instead. And cocktails. So many cocktails. Then Aisha found the bar, and I don't remember much at all after that. Is everything okay in Georgia?"

"Yeah, fine, we're finishing up on the prep now. But I have some news. I'm not sure whether you're gonna like it, but?—"

"If it's about Julius, I already heard. Popping open the champagne would be inappropriate, right?"

"You're okay?"

"I'll just say ‘thank you' and leave it at that."

"Thank you? Moon, it wasn't me. Fuck."

Oh. He hadn't done it, and I'd basically accused him of cold-blooded murder. Great. Fortunately, he didn't take offence.

"Then who…?"

"We don't know. Blackwood is monitoring the situation, but there's no obvious suspect right now. The body's a mess, but there were two holes in his chest and no weapon nearby, so the cops are working on the assumption that an intruder shot him with a small-calibre weapon."

"A burglar? Was it a home invasion?"

"If it was, they didn't steal much, but the police still need to do a thorough search of the house."

I shuddered. "You think the killer knew him?"

"Statistically, it seems likely. Only a quarter of murders are committed by strangers. And do I think he had enemies? Yeah, I do. Ninety-five percent of the performers he represents are young and female, and predators like him rarely stop at one victim. If another girl confided in a boyfriend or a brother, and they felt the same way about Julius as I did… I'll be the first to chip in toward a good defence attorney."

"And I'll match your contribution, anonymously of course."

Ryder let out a long breath. "You're really okay?"

"About Julius? I'm fine. No, more than fine—maybe even happy. But I do miss you."

"Miss you too, moon. Hopefully this should only take a few more days."

"Have you met her yet? Elene?"

"Not yet. She thinks I'm still in the US. But we have a meet arranged the day after tomorrow, and we had to let her suggest the location because Tripp isn't familiar with Tbilisi. It takes time to scout the area."

"Where did she suggest?"

"A Mexican restaurant. We had a conversation about burritos, so I guess she thought I'd like it." He yawned just as a crash came from outside. "What was that?"

I jumped up and yanked the door open. Luis was sprawled on the floor with dried-out cheese pastries scattered all around. Rocky was wolfing them down, one at a time, while Venus crawled toward the kitchen on her hands and knees.

"He fell over the dog," Derek explained.

"And so did Venus?"

"No," she called, "I just can't stand upright. I think I'm gonna puke."

"No, no, don't do that!"

The housekeeper ran for the door. "Ma'am, I'll get a bucket."

"Luis fell over Rocky," I told Ryder. "And Venus is still drunk."

"Don't you have a show today?"

Shit, yes, we did. On second thought, perhaps losing the contents of her stomach wouldn't be a bad idea?

"Derek, could you be a sweetie and carry her to the bathroom?"

"Uh, I'm not sure that's allowed. My contract states?—"

"I'll take her." Romeo Serafini strode past him and scooped Venus into his arms. "Did you have a security breach or a party?"

"Uh, the second one?"

"You remember you have a show tonight?"

Aisha stumbled out of the bedroom. "No problem, we're porfesh…prosef…professionals."

He raised his gaze to the ceiling. "Santo cielo."

The housekeeper must have called for reinforcements, because a server appeared with painkillers and fruit juice.

"We'll be fine," I promised. "Totally fine."

"I see now why you need the ‘bodyguard.'" Romeo made little air quotes around the "bodyguard" part. "To save you from yourself."

"Hey, that's not fair." He just stared at me, Rocky at his side, and okay, maybe it was a little bit fair. "Walk the dog, would you?"

It was the first time I'd seen him laugh.

"Whatever you say, principessa."