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“What about now, Butterfly? Do you still want me to pay attention to you? Even keep you?”
“Promise to never clip my wings?” She smirked as if I was teasing. I wasn’t.
I leaned in close enough to kiss her cheek. “I promise.”
“I wish we were there.”
“Me too,” I said, knowing she meant Fire Island.
“Even if we left now, the monarchs would be gone by the time we arrived.”
“If we left now, you’d miss your surprise.”
“I thought staying here was my surprise.”
“Silly girl, thinking you’d only have one.”
The following morning, when we arrived at Doc Butler’s place in Montecito, her surprise was waiting for Penelope outside the front door.
“They’re all here!” she screeched, jumping out of the car as soon as it stopped to greet her four best friends in the world.
“I owe you one,” I said to Doc when he walked over and stood beside me.
“You owe me a helluva lot more than one, Ripa.” He grinned. “Although seeing the smile on my daughter’s face makes this one for me as much as for you.”
“Actually, it’s all for them. And you’re right; I owe you my life, Doc.”
“Live well, Brand. That’s all I ask. Oh, and help me fight crime, starting with the art forgery ring. While the tribe doesn’t know it, there’s a whole lot more at stake than what their gallery suffered.”
“Understood, sir.”
“On that subject, has Penelope agreed to the first part of the plan?”
“Not officially, but I think she’s in favor of it.”
“Before your first mission gets started, you’ll need code names.”
“Hers is easy. Butterfly.”
“Did I hear my name?” Pen asked, winking when she approached.
“It’s actually your new code name. Now, we need to come up with one for me.”
She looked up at me. “Michelangelo.”
Doc raised a brow. “Someone has a high opinion of your abilities.”
Pen shook her head. “He began his career by passing off one of his sculptures as an ancient Roman statue in order to make more money. The cardinal who purchased it recognized his extraordinary talent and forgave him. He eventually became one of Michelangelo’s patrons.”
Doc’s eyes opened wide. “You’re telling me one of history’s most famous artists started his career as a forger?”
I nudged Penelope. “You weren’t even an art history major like Tara was.”
Her eyes scrunched but just slightly.
“Not that you aren’t an expert on the subject,” I quickly added. “I mean, anything to do with art.”
Doc put his hand on my shoulder. “I’d stay stop while you’re ahead, but telling you to stop before you get farther behind applies better in this case.”