Chapter 6

6

Lyric

I find Shelby waiting outside the library at the end of my shift.

Her smile and bright eyes tell me there are new and positive developments, though I’m not sure in which aspect of her life. But she is holding a box of our favorite macarons, so it must be good news.

“What’s up, buttercup?” I quip as I descend the library’s front steps.

The sky is a blazing sunset red, while the streets are flooded with endless lines of crimson taillights. It’s the early evening rush hour, which means we’ll be walking home. The train will feel like a can of sweaty, smelly sardines, and a cab will take forever to hail.

“They released Bowman,” Shelby says and opens the macaron box. “So I got your favorites to celebrate!”

“Hah,” I chuckle softly. “Pistachio. Love you so much right now.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d be glad to hear about this.”

“Thanks, Shelby, I appreciate it. And yes, I am glad to hear he’s a free man. Please, tell me he’s okay.”

She nods enthusiastically as we begin our slow walk home. “He’s at the hospital getting a full checkup right now. And I’m sure he’ll be granting every requested interview once they clear him. But he’s okay. Which means you’ll be getting your interview with him, after all. It would’ve been a shame to miss out on such an amazing opportunity for your doctorate thesis, don’t you think?”

“To be honest, yeah, I was a little bummed out when he didn’t show up. What do they know about his captors?”

That’s the million-dollar question.

“I have no idea. The Feds called your dad to let him know that Bowman was safe. He hasn’t spoken to Bowman himself just yet.”

At least he’s alive and seemingly unharmed, which will get the spotlight off me. I was more than just uncomfortable lying to a federal agent and I’m glad it’s over. But I have to wonder why they released him.

Did Max and the guys get what they wanted out of him? I haven’t heard from any of them. We were supposed to meet up on Friday night, but that never happened.

Not a call. Not a text. Nothing.

It’s been radio silence since Max’s last visit.

I wish I weren’t so anxious about it. Maybe it’s for the best. Getting involved with the Bratva is such a bad idea, no matter how you look at it. Hell, I should feel relieved. So why do I feel the exact opposite?

“Tell me about you,” Shelby says. “How’ve you been? Any more sexy time with your new man?”

“No, it didn’t work out,” I reply, staring ahead while munching on a pistachio macaron. At least I’ve got the taste of French excellence melting in my mouth to make me feel better.

“Oh, no. Why? What happened?”

“We were supposed to go out on Friday night but I was ghosted. I’m over it,” I say. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” Shelby mutters. “Men can be real pricks sometimes, huh?”

“My dating pool is shrinking, anyway. I’m starting to see those red flags a little clearer these days,” I reply with a dry chuckle.

“At least you’re not running toward them like me,” she laughs.