Chapter 35

35

" R emember the poster that we thought looked like a Martha Broch design?" Divya asked Luke when he got to T&T's office that afternoon. "It may have been because it was meant to look like a Martha Broch design."

"What do you mean?" he said, absorbed in his phone. He was checking his surveillance schedule for the remainder of the week.

"I was reading the review our Stringer wrote about the first season of the show." The mention of Sol caught Luke's attention. "She liked it, but she mentions The Privateers has been mired in controversy and links to an article where it's all explained."

"What controversy? The Twitter hack?"

"No, something about the opening credits and a poster. They were AI-made apparently, and it didn't sit well with the creative community. At the time, Meshflixx said…" Divya checked an article on her phone to read from it. "‘AI is just one additional tool among the vast array of toolsets used by the artists involved in the making of the show.' But it's almost as if they utilized the tool so that it would resemble Broch's style, eh?"

"Why didn't she tell me anything about this?"

"Who? Martha? Are you also interviewing her?" asked Divya, confused.

"What? No," he said, realizing he hadn't sounded very clear. "I meant Sol. We talked about The Privateers the other day, and she didn't say anything about this but it's clear she knew about it."

"She could have forgotten about it. I'm sure she doesn't remember all the shite she writes about." That sounded reasonable enough. Or did he just want to believe it made sense? "But I don't care if Martha organizes birthday parties and is still super friendly with her ex, she has a motive," Divya added.

The cab from the airport left Sol at home a bit after nine that evening. She took a long shower, made herself a kale omelet, called her mom, called Laia, texted with Lola to the point of thinking a call would have made more sense, and was deciding whether to keep doing stuff or retire to bed with Sally Rooney's latest emotional nail-biter when she realized Luke had left her a voicemail.

"Welcome to London. I won't tell you that I hope you had a pleasant flight because I know that's not possible. I'll be working until late. Text me if you want to catch up," he said.

She was in the mood for a chat with him and texted him right away without thinking much about how late it was.

Sol Novo: Just heard your message. Are you still working?

She sent the message and started unpacking but felt exhausted at the idea of having to do laundry from the trip. She was debating again whether she should try to go to sleep or not—the guidelines around jetlag mitigation had always been fuzzy for her even with decades of supposed experience on the subject—when she got Luke's text.

Luke (Sexy PI): I'm just done for the night.

Luke (Sexy PI): Happy you wrote. I've been meaning to ask you something.

She was intrigued.

Luke (Sexy PI): Is it safe to assume you forgive me?

Sol chuckled. She hadn't actually dwelled too much on his deception since the day of their trip to Harpenden. She'd never been one to hold a grudge.

Had she forgiven him? She had been mad at him in the beginning, especially the night when he finally admitted to everything about his real profession, but her anger hadn't lasted. They were soon embroiled in the mystery he was investigating, and she was simply too intrigued by him.

And even if their latest conversations and text exchanges had been on a friendly and often flirtatious note, Sol appreciated his checking to make sure that she had indeed forgiven him.

Sol Novo: It may be safe to assume, yes. Inexplicable but safe

Luke (Sexy PI): Mind if I ring you?

Luke (Sexy PI): If it's too late and you prefer to talk tomorrow, let me know.

She checked the time and realized it was almost midnight. Even if she wasn't the least bit sleepy because she was in California time—and she'd taken a seven-hour nap on the plane—the wise thing to do would be to go to sleep and leave everything for the following day. She didn't appear to play it safe lately though. She called him herself. He answered after one tone.

"Ciao, bella. Happy you're back." His tone was gruff, husky, and accompanied by some background noise that made her deduce he was probably walking on the street.

"Hola," she said. She wasn't sure how to proceed with that conversation even if she'd initiated the call.

It was late, and she was calling a man who had lied to her and had been flirting with her persistently practically from the moment they met. She was also a young Gen Xer trying to communicate with a youngish Millennial, and if years of clickbait-article reading had taught her anything, it was that those two generations didn't get each other.

"Thanks for forgiving me," he said tentatively. He was no longer in his teasing mode. He sounded the most serious he'd behaved since he came clean to her.

"Just don't lie to me again," she said sternly, wanting him to know she meant it.

"I won't," he replied, and she believed him. "I know it's late," he added in a much more playful manner.

"I'm so jet-lagged that I don't really know what time it is." And, in a way, it was true.

"Do you want to go for a drink?" he asked. "We can meet in your neighborhood if that's more convenient. I'm already on the move anyway."

"It's too late. I'm too dehydrated from the plane for alcohol, and I don't really feel like going out," she said. That didn't mean she didn't want to see him. "I know how this could be interpreted, just don't read too much into it: Do you want to come to my place? For tea."

"Just tea?" he said.

"I guess I could also offer you some Hawaiian macadamia nuts."