Chapter 34

34

A couple of hours after what had objectively been the worst, most vexing interview of her whole career, Sol was in another car en route to the airport. She kept replaying the interview in her mind, each one of Richard's rude answers and her responses to them.

Sol was angry. She should have reacted differently. She had two decades of experience doing that kind of work, yet she felt like a total novice. An amateur would have probably handled the whole situation better—or left the room in tears. But perhaps if she hadn't tried being so accommodating and polite and she'd told Richard what she really thought about his oeuvre and his attitude, he'd have stayed for the whole interview and would have engaged with her. But it was too late now.

If only Mark had been able to finish voicing whatever advice he intended to give her about his former working partner, but that irritating son of his had interrupted him! But again, it was too late to start with the what-if route. What she knew was that she wouldn't be able to write much with what she had.

After a few minutes of nervous thinking, she managed to calm down a bit. She would explain to Fionna what had happened. There was still a way of writing something about Fynn and his unwillingness to promote a sequel that hadn't happened for thirteen years. There was a story there, even if it wasn't what Conceit Fair had initially commissioned from her.

She checked the time on her smart tracker. It was much later than she'd anticipated, and she was nowhere close to the airport. Traffic was bad, reminding Sol of one reason why she'd left the city.

She was beginning to fear she'd be late for her flight back to London when she received a message from someone she'd managed to mostly keep off her mind. And she was forced to recall the main reason why she'd left Los Angeles.

The Boring One: I had to find out through social media that you're in LA. You could at least have texted. Your crap is still all over the place.

Sol frowned. The last thing she needed was having to deal with David, ex-husband number two and the number one person who made her lose her not-really-that-plentiful-to-begin-with patience. She was about to text him again that he could get rid of anything she may have left there and send her the bill for the expense—or better yet, finally ship her her remaining stuff—when she got another message.

The Boring One: I'm sure you had the courtesy of speaking to ex-husband Number One when you were in Spain a few days ago

Not only was David the most exasperating person Sol knew—he had an unparalleled way of irritating her—but it also looked like he'd been following her movements on social media.

When her phone buzzed again, she was ready to roll down the window and throw it out of the car. But the new message wasn't from the most annoying person she'd known. It managed to make her forget about Richard Fynn, David, and even the possibility of not catching the plane.

Luke (Sexy PI): Still enjoying sunny Los Angeles?

A lot had changed in Sol's mood and feelings toward the Californian city since they last texted.

Luke (Sexy PI): The weather in London is a balmy 13C right now and it should only be rainy for half of the week

Luke (Sexy PI): But please don't hold that against us

Sol couldn't help but smile at Luke's messages. London's weather sounded terrible, especially if she compared it to the glorious Angeleno day. Yet she wanted to catch that wretched flight back now even more than before. It almost surprised her: she was actually longing for the British city and the home she'd made for herself there.

Being back in Los Angeles—the city she'd called home for so many years—had reminded her that she was no longer the person who left Barcelona in her twenties and LA in her late thirties. She was no longer simply Barcelonian or Angelena. Fitting in anywhere would be difficult because of that. But it was the path she'd chosen for herself.

Sol Novo: I won't :)

Sol Novo: Even if what you've described doesn't sound too enticing.

Luke (Sexy PI): Did I mention I'm also here?

She laughed earnestly—her first authentic, not-at-all-fake laugh of the day—and was relieved when the driver pulled up at LAX. It looked like she'd be back in London soon after all.

···

She was at the gate waiting for her London Heathrow evening flight to start boarding when she got Luke's call. She promptly answered it.

"Ciao, bella," he told her in a way that made her smile. "Sorry to bother you during your Angeleno stay."

"I'm actually at the airport. No bother at all, but they may call my boarding group soon."

"I'll go straight to the point then. Especially since it seems you won't be abandoning us for California after all."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I most certainly won't."

"Happy to hear it. Feel free to criticize Los Angeles and compare it to London and its superiority any time." She rolled her eyes at his London pride and love even if more often than not it reminded her of her feelings toward her own hometown.

"Luke," she said, still laughing. "Group One just started boarding. Sadly, I'm not there but I'm in Group Three. You needed something…?"

"Josie sent me a recording of the February 23 class," he told her. "Thanks again for asking her."

"No problem," Sol said. The conversation could have been much more fun if she didn't have to board a plane momentarily and rush him. Then again, that plane would take her much closer to him.

"Let me know if you want me to send you the link so you can retake the class. I know you enjoyed the bum-on-fire routine." Amusement filled his voice.

Sol assumed he had called her to figure out something about the case, maybe ask her something else about The Privateers . Yet he was unabashedly talking about her ass.

"Luca," she said, trying to sound authoritative. She knew he liked it when she used his Italian name. "As much as I'm enjoying this line of conversation…"

"You are?" he asked. He sounded half-surprised, half-self-contented.

"I am, but group two just started boarding and I feel you needed to ask me something."

"Many things. You may not want to answer all of them."

"Mare meva! You turn more Italian by the minute. Could you please cut to the chase?"

"Reluctantly," he said, a change in his voice. "Do you remember if there was anyone else in class on February 23? I mean other than you, Josie, Sara, Philippa, Mark, Lashana, and Martha."

"Not really," she said, trying to remember. "Why?"

"There's an eighth person showing for a couple of instants in the recording, but they're in the background, pixelated, and we can't identify them." As much as Sol missed his flirtatious tone, the new twist in the case had caught her attention.

"Could that person be Leonardo Pascual?" he asked, which caught Sol completely off guard.

"The actor?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Believe me when I say I would absolutely remember if Leonardo showed up at my Pilates studio," Sol said. "Sadly, I've never seen him in the flesh. The man is irrefutably sexy."

"That's what everyone keeps saying, yes," conceded Luke, even if he didn't sound confident about it.

"Let me think about it and see if I remember anything about that mysterious person who wasn't Leonardo Pascual," she told him. "I have an eleven-hour flight ahead of me, after all."

"That would be fantastic," he said. "Are you about to start boarding?"

"I am." She joined the queue for her group number.

"Any chance you'll want to see me when you're back in London?" he asked.

The last time he'd asked her that, she'd been in Barcelona and much more unsure about the answer.

"I'd like to," she said. "But I really need to go now. Adeu, Luca."

"Ciao, bella, see you in London."

She liked the sound of that promise.