Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

All the way downward.

To that place. That place that knows nothing but force and pain. Violation and greed.

I feel the spark there.

And…

I’m a little less afraid of the future.

8

Luke

“Where do you live?” I ask Katelyn once we’re back inside the restaurant.

She rattles off the address in a monotone, and I commit it to memory. I pull out my phone to call her a cab when I realize I don’t need to. This is New York, not LA. Cabs are a dime a dozen here. All we have to do is walk out the front door and we’ll find one.

I guide Katelyn through the restaurant, when—

“Luke!” Lois scurries toward me. “You need to relieve Travis. He’s been handling your tables and his.”

“Right. I’m sorry, Lois. I was taking care of Mrs. Wolfe’s friend.”

Lois’s demeanor changes at the mention of Mrs. Wolfe. “Of course! Are you all right?” she asks Katelyn.

“Yes, I’m fine. Luke has been a big help. I’m just so worried about Zee.”

“The paramedics said everything looked under control. I’m sure she and Mr. Wolfe will have some good news soon.”

“Katelyn,” I say, “take care of yourself.”

“I will. Thank you again, Luke.”

“You know,” Lois says, “your shift is over in an hour anyway. Why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the evening off, Luke? As a personal thank you from me for being such a help with Mrs. Wolfe and her friend.”

I try not to let my eyes pop out of their sockets. Lois is a good and fair manager, but this still surprises me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’d feel much better if you waited with Ms.…” She lifts her eyebrows at Katelyn.

“Brooks,” Katelyn says. “Katelyn Brooks.”

Brooks. Now I have a last name and an address. I file the information away.

“Okay. Thanks, Lois. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“You’re off tomorrow.”

“Right. See you the day after, then.”

“Don’t be late.” Lois smiles and then heads back to the front of the restaurant.

I follow, leading Katelyn through the crowd of people waiting for a table and out the door.

Several yellow cabs are already waiting outside the restaurant. “Here, you go. It was really nice meeting you, Katelyn.”

She smiles. “You too, Luke.” She doesn’t let go of my hand.

“You know,” I say, thinking out loud, “you don’t live far from here. Only three blocks. Instead of a cab, what if I walked you home?”

Her eyes widen. “In the dark?”

“It’s dark, yes. I wouldn’t want you walking alone. But I promise you’re safe with me. Besides, this is downtown Manhattan. It’s well lit.”

For the first time, I wonder what Katelyn does for a living. She lives in an expensive neighborhood. Expensive even for Manhattan. Near the Wolfe building. She either comes from money or works with the Wolfes. Why else would she be having dinner with Zee Wolfe?

“It’s really safe?”

Her question confounds me. It’s dark, but it’s not late. And she has a male escort. I scan the area. Male-female couples are everywhere, walking, laughing, talking. Groups of women walk together as well.

Why is she so reticent?

“I promise to get you safely home,” I say, “but if you’re more comfortable in a cab—”

“No.” She stops me. “I think I’d like to walk with you.”

I can’t help myself. A giant smile splits my face. I don’t know why, but I’m relishing this extra fifteen minutes I’m going to have with Katelyn.

And it’s not because I loved kissing her, which I did.

It’s not because she’s beautiful, which she is.

It’s not because I’ve changed, which I have.

It’s because, deep inside, I know I’m feeling something I’ve never felt before.

And it feels good. Damned good.

“Tell me something about yourself,” I say.

She doesn’t reply at first, and just when I think she isn’t going to, she finally says, “I’m…looking for a job.”

Interesting. She doesn’t work for the Wolfes after all. “Oh? What kind of job?”

“Anything, really. I’m not really qualified for much.”

“Do you have a degree?”

“College? No. But I did finish high school.”

“What other jobs have you had recently?”

“I just moved here.”

“Where did you live before?”

Again, she stays silent for a few seconds, and I wonder if she won’t answer.

Finally, “I’m from LA originally.”

“Really? So am I.”

Shit. I’m not supposed to say that. I’ve got to be more careful.

“Are you?”

“Well, not LA exactly.” Maybe I can fix this. “Northern California.”

“Why’d you say LA, then?”

“I didn’t. You did.” No lie there. All I said was so am I.

She doesn’t push me, and I’m grateful.

“So what kind of work did you do in LA?” I prompt.

“I was… I was in the escort business.”

I stop my jaw from dropping. “You don’t mean…”

“No. Just a paid escort. You know, to social events.” She watches her feet as we walk. “But I don’t want to do that anymore. Unfortunately, it doesn’t leave me qualified for much else than to look pretty on someone’s arm.”