Chapter 17
Ansell
Bella Baby sits across from me in a small coffee shop off Fairmount Avenue. She’s small, dark hair, straight bangs, big eyes, and she looks pissed as all hell.
“Do you have any idea how many fucked-up messages I’ve gotten in the last week alone?” She throws her hands up and nearly knocks over her saucer. All her gestures are huge and intense, like the girl doesn’t know the word restraint and can’t imagine subtlety if it punched her in the teeth. “The sick fucks want to rape me, kill me, and usually both, and not necessarily in that order.”
“Troll army. I’m willing to bet every single one of those messages was written by a random Russian bot. They aren’t particularly expensive.”
“I don’t give a shit who’s doing it.” She leans back in a huff and crosses her arms, glaring. “I want to make sure the bastard responsible bleeds.”
I nod at her and almost want to smile. I appreciate the girl’s rage and like that she feels a sense of righteous indignation over this absurd level of harassment. And she’s friends with Marie, which means she’s a decent person.
“I understand this has been difficult for you—”
“That’s putting it mildly. It’s been hell. Fucking hell.”
“Then you should want to ruin whoever’s doing it.”
“Like I said, I want to put the fuckers in the ground.” She hesitates and sips her drink. “But I’ve got a future to think about.”
I let out a low grunt. Bella Baby comes off as a gossip-rag airhead with a loud mouth and a lot of big gestures, but she’s clever. I can see the gears turning. She’s trying to figure out how to bend this conversation toward her benefit, and I like that about her.
“Marie needs help. She needs PR help, and you have experience.”
“Don’t you have teams of PR people at your company?”
I nod slowly. “None that I trust.”
“Wow. Rough.”
“Yes, well, that’s the depth of the Crawford family’s reach.”
“I’ll be honest. I love Marie. I’m happy she brought me that William shit and I’d publish it all over again if I could. But I don’t want to get any more involved.”
I lean back, head tilted. “Why take this meeting then?”
“What, and never get a chance to sit across from the great Ice King himself?” She laughs, using my nickname like it’s no big deal. I don’t smile back, and eventually she withers under my glare. “Right, sorry. I just mean, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I can do.”
“I’ll pay you. Consider it a proper job. We’ll do all the necessary paperwork.”
“I’m sorry, it’s not about money.”
“Two thousand per hour. Work as much as you want.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“And let’s say we’ll add a fifty-thousand bonus on at the end if your services prove useful. Does that work?”
“Well, uh.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Now if I say yes, you’ll know I’m only doing it for the money.”
“Baby, if you were doing it for any other reason, I wouldn’t want you around.”
She laughs quietly and studies her hands for several seconds. “I’ve heard rumors about you, you know.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“The sort I’d never print.” She glances up, fear in her eyes. “You’ve done things. Very bad things. When you were coming up.”
“Those rumors might be true.”
She grimaces. “Murder sort of things. You know, mafia hits. Stealing, fighting, drugs. You have a very colorful past, Mr. Drake.”
“We all have a past, Baby.”
“But can I trust you to do right by Marie? I’m her friend. I love her. But even I want to run far away from the Crawfords right now.”
“I care about Marie as well, and I’ve faced down worse things than a bunch of elitist rich assholes. Take the job, Bella. Do yourself a favor.”
She considers it. She drinks her coffee and taps a fingernail against the rim before nodding at me. “I’ll do it. Please don’t tell Marie I refused at first.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I push my chair back and stand. “I’ll be in touch. I want to begin as soon as possible countering all the negative information the Crawfords are putting out there, particularly about the band Pride.”
“I can do that, although I’m not really a music reviewer.”
“Do your best.” I turn away and begin to leave, but she calls out my name.
“I’ve been wondering something,” she says, looking nervous, glancing around like we’re in a spy movie. “Someone sent her that email with all those pictures. Someone was following William around. But we still don’t know who.”
I nod slowly. I’ve been wondering the same thing. “I’m looking into it.”
“Are you?” She hesitates, chewing on her lip. “Look, I don’t know who sent those emails, but whoever it is has an agenda. I’d figure that out and I’d do it fast, because that might be the key to everything.”
I watch her carefully. The girl is clever, there’s no doubt about it. “I’ll see what I can do.” I leave the coffee shop and step out onto the sidewalk, hesitating to stretch. My ribs still ache from where Heiko tried to beat me to death and I think I’ll be bruised for another few weeks at least. I sigh and begin walking until Baptist detaches himself from the storefront next door and falls in step.