Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Dream was Luna’s sister.
Whereas Luna was the kind of girl who could be every girl’s best friend (she was just that awesome), Dream was hard to like.
We could just say that Dream was kind of a female version of Tex, but younger, with more attitude, and she wasn’t ever funny (or nice).
A few months ago, she’d started at SC part time on weekends because, in short succession, she’d popped out three kids by three different dudes, and she needed the cash.
But now, she filled in often when someone had a day off, or called in sick, or the Angels were on the move.
One thing you could say about her, it seemed she also had the capacity for growth, because when I first met her, she was a total flake and made Kevin look like an amateur in the mooch department. But now, she was dependable. Totally solid as a rock.
Oh, and she was kind of a server/bouncer. If we had a shitty customer, Dream took over, and she had a way with dealing with shitty customers. You could even say she’d made it an art.
As far as I knew, Louise, Luna and Dream’s mom, didn’t have any server experience, but fortunately serving wasn’t rocket science. Though, it wasn’t like anyone could do it in their sleep, it took skill, but no lives depended on it. So hopefully she’d be okay to fill in for a couple of hours.
I went to our glass-fronted beverage fridge and got myself a San Pelligrino. With a glance at Shanti, and her return glance, I got her one too.
Truth: We both needed to hydrate after our mimosa-without-juice-a-thon at brunch.
I settled beside Shanti on the couch.
“Raye’s not coming because she’s otherwise occupied,” Gemma said on a huge smile as Luna wandered our way.
“I can’t wait to see her ring,” Harlow gushed.
“Take a look,” Luna said, handing her phone to Harlow before she rested her ass against the desk in front of us.
“Oh my God! That’s so Raye!” Harlow exclaimed at the picture on the cell.
We passed around Luna’s phone and got a good gander at Raye’s simple, princess-cut solitaire that was not simple in heft.
Cap done good (or Shirleen did in the guidance of her son, and yeah, Shirleen was Cap’s mom, also Roam’s, both adopted—as you could see, the Nightingale/Rock Chick posse had a long and complicated, but loving, history).
I was the last to get the phone, so I passed it back to Luna, asking, “You okay?”
“Peachy,” she said breezily, looking down at the snap on her phone with a small, happy smile on her face.
Okay, so maybe I read that earlier scowl wrong.
Still.
“You were scowling at the computer screens,” I told her.
She looked at me. “That’s because Clarice said she was sending a report of what Arthur dug up on Mr. Shithead, she knew the briefing was happening now, and it hasn’t—”
“Hello, Angels,” the speaker on the desk drawled in Morgan Freeman’s voice.
We all jumped.
And then we all went still.
It wasn’t that the speaker never spoke, as in, Arthur never “talked” to us using a famous actor’s voice.
He did.
It was just that it usually only said, “Well done, Angels” at the end of a mission.
So this was new.
“Oh my God,” Gemma breathed.
“Welcome, Joey and Gemma,” the speaker, or Arthur, somewhere, live and in the flesh, said…to us.
Wow.
This was huge!
“Holy crap,” Joey whispered reverently. “So cool.”
“Let’s begin,” Arthur said.
Luna moved to and fell into the couch, her dazed eyes on the speaker.
Once she was down, a picture of Mr. Shithead came on the screen on the back wall.
Or, his mugshot.
“Duane Darin Poole, age forty-two,” Arthur told us. “Born in Detroit, Michigan. His parents moved their family to Phoenix when he was a senior in high school.”
“Bad timing,” Harlow mumbled.
“Yes,” Arthur agreed.
Annnnd…
Holy shit!
He actually was talking to us and hearing us!
Arthur kept going.
“But Duane was engaged in petty criminal activity before the move, and after. Nothing substantial. Fighting. Shoplifting. Vandalism. He continued on that bent through adulthood. Not ambitious enough to commit any serious crime, not a strong enough moral compass to stay out of trouble.”
“Right,” Luna said when Arthur paused.
“However, he’s kept his nose clean for the last five years since he’s been employed as the night manager at the Sun Valley Motor Lodge,” Arthur shared.
“Is his family still in Phoenix?” Jess asked.
“Mother, deceased. Diabetes. Two years ago. Father lives in Apache Junction. They rarely see each other. Younger sister married, had children, divorced, remarried and lives in Oregon. They don’t speak either, except on holidays. Even so, these conversations don’t last long.”
“So sad,” Harlow, our heart-of-pure-24-carat-gold girl, observed.
“Are they all the petty-criminal-do-just-the-amount-you-can-to-get-by type like our Duane here?” Shanti inquired.
“Father has had a lifelong struggle with his addiction to gambling. He lives in a mobile home community. There’s a possibility Duane’s mother would still be alive if she went to the doctor and saw to herself. She didn’t. The sister has had recurring issues with drug addiction, this the cause of her divorce. She lost her children and never bothered to try to get them back.”