Page 12 of By A Thread

“Sherry, get me a coffee, will you?”

“Shayla,” she said crisply.

I felt the punch of anger that radiated off her.

The man probably snapped his fingers at servers in restaurants.

I flashed back to my pepperoni pizza and the woman who’d served it, then winced.

“Help yourself to the machine,” I said to Irvin, nodding in the direction of the beverage bar just inside the door. Until recently, its primary function had been to display bottles of champagne and scotch. It was now home to a tea station and espresso machine. Though, I still kept it stocked with my mother’s favorite white wine and a bottle of bourbon for particularly frustrating days.

“Never could figure those monstrosities out,” Irvin said cheerfully, winking at Shayla then grinning at me.

“I’ll speak with you later, Shayla,” I said, dismissing her. I’d make the damn coffee if it meant I didn’t have to figure out how to get blood stains out of the carpet.

She gave us both a cool nod and left.

“What can I do for you, Irvin?” I asked, starting an espresso for the man.

“I had drinks with the buyers from Barneys last night. Catching up, gossiping like teenage girls.” He wandered over to the windows to study the skyline. “You know how Larry is,” he said conversationally.

I didn’t knowwhoLarry was. But this had been the hallmark of my relationship with Irvin since taking over the position. I was his stand-in for my father. I imagined the two of them had shared many a scotch in this very room.

But I wasn’t my father, and I didn’t have time for gossip. I handed him the coffee.

He seemed to recognize that I wasn’t Paul. “Anyway, after a few gin martinis, Larry gets loose. Runs his mouth. He mentioned hearing some rumors about your mother, the divorce. Is she seeing someone new?” His silver-tufted eyebrows raised suggestively.

I had no idea. I wasn’t sure if I should know if she was seeing someone or not.

“I see,” I said, pointedly ignoring the question. Whether I should know if my mother was dating again was entirely different than if Big-Mouthed Guess-What-I-Heard Irvin should know.

My mother, this magazine, didn’t need the shadow of Paul Russo to cause further harm. Every inquiry, every interview question about the situation had been met with stoic silence. The Russo Modus Operandi. Protect the name at all costs.

Even if it meant sheltering a villain.

“Anyway. Thought you’d like to know. They’re just rumors,” Irvin said, taking a dainty sip of his coffee. “They’ll blow over as soon as something more scandalous comes along.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said.

5

Ally

Thank the goddess of Wi-Fi signals. There was internet in Foxwood today.

Triumphantly, I plucked my frozen fingers out of the sleeves of my two-layered sweatshirts and logged into FBI Surveillance Van 4.

It was Saturday morning, and I had three whole hours until I needed to catch the train into the city.

I’d already spent an hour throwing debris out of the second-floor window into the dumpster that took up the entirety of my dad’s square inch of front yard.

Then another hour working on a freelance logo design project. It was for a family-run butcher shop in Hoboken and it paid a grand total of $200.

But $200 meant I’d be able to bump up the thermostat a hedonistic degree or two for a few days. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I might be able to strip down to just one layer of clothing! So Frances Brothers Butcher Shop would get the best damned logo I could design.

With my borrowed Wi-Fi, I typed “Dalessandra Russo” and “Label Magazine” into the internet search and scrolled past the results I’d already visited. Turns outLabelhad been going through a “transition” period recently. There was plenty of information on formidable and fabulous Dalessandra. Former model turned fashion industry mogul and editor-in-chief of one of the largest surviving fashion magazines in the country. Her husband of forty-five years, Paul, had “stepped down” as creative director for the magazine as of about thirteen months ago.

The official line was that they were parting ways personally and professionally. However, gossip blogs hinted at a more sinister scandal, citing the exodus of several other employees around the same time. Mostly women. The blogs were careful to tap dance around it, but one or two of them hinted that Paul’s extramarital affairs played a role in the demise of both the personal and professional relationships.