In his lounge at The Ritz that evening, Ivan poured himself a scotch before settling on the sofa, watching the dead screen of the television. A voice that had nothing to do with the dead ones nagged in the back of his mind, telling him he’d been too hard on Alice. No. She’d been young, but not so young she couldn’t stand up for him against her father. Her old man had always spoiled her rotten, not that she’d ever behaved like a brat.
His foster family had moved around a lot. When they’d arrived in New York, he’d been a hard bastard, tormented by both living and dead people. The only person who’d looked beyond the angry mask was Alice. She’d been with her group of rich girl friends and had taken plenty of flak from her classmates when she’d befriended him. It had surprised him to have finally found a measure of peace. It only came in her arms. He’d thought their love was invincible, that nothing could take it away from him, but Mr. Jones had succeeded with nothing more than three lines.
“I know what you are. You’re not good enough for her. You’ll only end up hurting her.”
Since she’d chosen her wealthy family over him, he sure as hell hoped her daddy’s money had made up for what she’d cast away in ignorance, not bothering to care enough for even an inquisitive question about the way he’d left.
Voices reached out to him just as the girls had clawed at him earlier, penetrating his thoughts. He tried to tune them out, but their begging became louder. It wouldn’t be long before someone locked him up in an asylum. He downed the drink and popped on his earphones, turning the volume up to a high level. Maybe if he ignored them long enough, they’d go away.
Why a bunch of needy souls had suddenly flocked to earth was a troublesome mystery. Once a spirit had locked onto a necromancist, they didn’t let go, not until they got what they wanted. Opening his laptop, he did a search on Godfrey and Boris but came up empty-handed.
He closed his eyes and leaned back his head. With the hard rock droning out the voices, his mind drifted to Alice Jones with her conservative hairdo and full hips. She stirred feelings in him he’d long forgotten. He wanted more of those feelings, maybe more than what she was willing to give, but she’d made his bed for him, and he was going to make sure she slept in it. Very soon.
“Good, God, Alice.” Johnny raked his hands through his hair. “Kate chewed off my ear for more than half an hour about yesterday’s slipup.”
Alice poured another cup of tea and pushed it across his desk. “It wasn’t so bad. I don’t know who leaked the information, but it was bound to happen. A man that famous isn’t going to move around London unnoticed.”
“Still.” He dropped his arms on the desk. “It was a security risk. He got another hate letter, yesterday. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t worry so. I don’t know.” He scratched his head. “Maybe we should cancel the radio interview.”
“We’ll take extra precautions. It’s the best publicity we’ve ever gotten, and we need it.”
“I know.” He sighed. “But I don’t want to be responsible if something happens.”
Alice leaned over and patted his hand. “Think positive.”
As she made to get up, Mandy stormed into the room.
“Ivan is refusing to sing if you’re not there, Alice,” Mandy blabbered. “Verlene is having a heart attack.”
“Jesus.” Pushing a hand against his forehead, Johnny leaned back in his chair. “Remind me why I’m in this business.”
Alice got to her feet. “Because you love it. I’ll go see.”
“How can you always be so calm?” Johnny asked.
“I’m used to it.” She offered him a smile. “Comes with the territory. He’s not more difficult than anyone else I’ve worked with. Remember the opera singer, Debra, who insisted on having her green tea flown in from China?”
“I don’t want to rush you or anything,” Mandy said, “but I think if Verlene doesn’t die from cardiac arrest, she’s going to strangle Ivan. Either way, one of them is going to end up dead.”
“We’ll talk later,” Alice said to her boss before leaving his office.
On their way to the rehearsal room, she looked at Mandy from over her shoulder. “What were you doing there, anyway? I thought you were behind schedule with the brochures.”
Mandy ran a few steps to catch up. “I went to flaunt this.” She motioned at her cleavage. “I heard Ivan is a slut, so I reckoned—”
Alice held up a hand. “Too much information, thank you.”
“Do you think he’ll sleep with me?”
“He screws anything in a dress. Why would you be the exception?”
“What’s going on with the two of you?”