Silver Basilisk (Silver Shifters 4)

“What if he has no idea where Alejo is,” she whispered as the group clapped. “Never mind. No chickening out. I have to know.”

Doris whispered, “Better to confront him in a public place, with friends nearby.”

“There’s that,” Godiva admitted.

Three more people took their turns reading, then it was Doris’s turn. She handed out fresh samosas as she talked about recipes. Time seemed both to drag and to rush by, a weird sensation that just made Godiva’s insides churn. She spent the entire time arguing with herself.

Finally she resorted to a mental list:

Reasons to talk to Rigo:

Find out if he knows where Alejo is.

Hear whatever excuse he’s going to offer for being a total jerk, and use it in her next book.

How good it will feel to tell him to get lost.

Reasons to ignore his ass:

He’s a betraying jerk.

I won’t believe a word he says.

How great it will feel to give him the silent treatment, paybacks for him stiffing me all those years ago, without so much as a word.

She forced herself out of her reverie in order to listen to Bird, whose ending of her doll novel was as sweet and well-written as Godiva knew it would be. And she smiled at the enthusiastic applause from most of the writers, pride on Bird’s behalf suppressing the butterflies in her stomach.

But Bird was the last. Now everyone was free to comment, rise and stretch, renew their coffee, or snag another pastry.

Bird rose, making a motion toward the restroom. Doris collected their various paper plates and coffee cups, and headed toward the back table, leaving Godiva alone. She sat there, arms crossed tightly. It was time to face him down, but not with all these listening ears. She sensed Rigo waiting on the other side of the room. He hadn’t headed her way, but she knew he was waiting for her to make the first move.

She sidled a quick look, and again it was like a blow behind her ribs, how damned handsome he still was. If there was any justice, he’d be a doddering geezer—

“Want backup?”

Godiva nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to find Jen looming over her, looking like a Viking goddess about to smite a few dozen Phoenician pirates with fire and sword.

Jen said, “I saw you glaring at Rigo. I know Joey means well . . . what I mean to say is, Doris clued me in on what happened between you and this guy, since you didn’t tell her not to. If you want some backup, I’m here. And I still do an hour of kung fu a day,” she added, flexing her right arm as her left hand absently rubbed at her baby bump.

“It’s okay,” Godiva said. “He’s probably looking for handouts, Bird thinks.”

“Driving that car?”

“Well. There’s that.”

“Bird would think along those lines, as she was gaslighted by her horrible ex for years.”

Godiva nodded. “Anyway, if he tries to, it won’t take me ten seconds to laugh him back to wherever he came from. There’s something I need to ask him, because I have to know.”

Jen frowned, bit her lip, seemed about to say something, frowned again, then said, “Okay. If you’re sure. Any of us would . . .”

And here came Doris and Bird, closing in on either side. The three women exchanged looks—the kind of glances that Godiva had seen more and more of as the three got paired off. She knew they didn’t mean to close her out, but she sensed some wall, or door, or level that she didn’t know how to cross.

Then Jen started chatting about how excellent Bird’s new book was, and Godiva told herself she was imagining things. She should be grateful for the loyal backup. Here they were, three awesome women ready to run a defensive tackle, or whatever they called it in football when a bunch of husky guys mowed down the opposing team’s quarterback.

When Jen paused, Godiva eyed the three and lowered her voice. “I appreciate all of you more than I can say. But I’ve been looking out for myself for more years than any of you have been alive. Tonight’s no different. Go home. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” And to Doris, “You and Joey don’t have to take me home. I’ll call for a Lyft.”

Being the terrific women they were, they took the hint and dispersed, though not without a few backward looks, as if to check and see if Godiva really meant it.