“Oh.” Mavis strung the word out into multiple syllables. “She never tried to work me. She got pushy, like I said, and pushed about you more than once. I shut that down. I know how. I mean when you’ve worked the … g-r-i-f-t like me, you know how to slip and slide.”
“Ask Leonardo. Ask if she tried to work him.”
“He’d have told me.”
“Ask him. No bullshit. Straight ask, straight answer.”
“Okay, okay. Let me … Talk to Bella. Bellisimo, it’s Dallas.”
“Das!”
The screen filled with Bella’s pretty, happy face and her crown of blond curls. She jabbered for a full minute without pause, then laughed like a mental patient.
“I bet,” Eve said, without a single clue.
“Oook, oook, oook!” The screen jiggled and zipped and rocked, then showed an expanse of golden sand, blue seas, and waving green palms. “Mama say mago-oso.”
Despite everything, Eve laughed. “Yeah, she would.”
“Ove Das, Das come. Mago-oso.”
“Maybe sometime.”
“Hey, my Bella, say bye to Dallas. Daddy’s got your berries.”
“Mmm. Bye, Das, bye! Slooch!”
Bella pressed her lips to the screen, smearing it with toddler spit.
“Yeah, slooch.”
Mavis swiped the screen with something, gave Eve a look. “Straight no. She pushed some, about me, about you and Roarke, but my honey bear knows how to hold the line. He said he let her think he wasn’t too bright, or clued in, and she backed off.”
“Which makes him both bright and clued in.”
“That’s my moonpie. Should I be worried?”
“I don’t think so, and if I’m wrong and there’s anything, I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will. We’re back in the Apple in about four days, I think. Tag me back either way when you know what you know.”
“I will. Have fun in the mago-oso.”
Mavis laughed. “She’ll get those l’s in one of these days. Cha, Das.”
Satisfied, even if the anger still simmered, Eve sat again. “Take another of these books, Peabody. The way I see this one, it’s recording stars and their connections. She’s likely got one of vid stars, etc., maybe one on politicians, your basic wealthy types, and like that.”
Peabody took two, settled on the couch. “One’s vid stars—seems exclusive to that.” She flipped open the other. “She’s got directors, producers, the industry types in this one. Question marks, exclamations, underlines, those Roman numerals. Those might be how close she thought she was to cashing in. You know, one for first stage, and like that?”
“Yeah, that could work.” Eve had already concluded the same. “She had Leonardo at a one, Mavis hit a two. I’ve got a couple in here with fives, and she writes them in bold red.”
Eve set the book aside, pulled out another. And opened the first page to find her own face. “She’s got me. I rate a one. A lot of pages on me,” she continued as Peabody shoved up, coming over to see for herself. “A lot of question marks. Oh, look, I rated some commentary: Bullshit, bitch. Hey, slut? Where does she come off calling me a slut? Anyway, lots of articles, some photos. She caught a couple of Summerset. Looks like he was shopping. A few of you and me on the job. And all that fancy shit for the premiere of the vid.”
She flipped through, stopped. “And here’s Roarke. Lots and lots of Roarke.”
Checking, she nodded. “We rate our own book.”
“And he ranks a one, just like you.”