Page 10 of Scripted for Love and Poison (Sol and Luke Mystery #2)

“ S o how is LA treating you?” Divya asked him.

“Do you want the truth?” Luke was currently strolling along Abbot Kinney Boulevard, following Sol’s advice, while she had lunch with her friend Lola.

Sol had provided Luke with at least three different recommendations in case he wanted to grab a bite alongside the popular street on Venice Beach.

He was weighing his options while walking. He missed walking so much.

“You know I always want the truth,” Divya teased him, and he had to admit that hearing Divya’s Mancunian accent made him feel more homesick, even if he was a staunch Londoner.

“I can’t say I’m taking to it much. I just don’t get it,” he finally said.

“What don’t you get, exactly?”

“This place. The traffic is horrendous. If you want to walk, you need to drive first to a walking-friendly area. Everyone looks like they’re out of a TV show ...”

“And that last is a problem because ...?”

“I guess you’re right, and that last thing is not necessarily a problem. But I swear I’ve not seen a single crooked tooth since we’ve landed.”

“Again, what are you complaining about?”

“I’ve forgotten that you had a sweet spot for Americans,” Luke said, as Divya had been dating a Texan TV staffer called Moon whom Divya had met during the same case that brought Luke and Sol together.

“Should I remind you Sol has an American passport on top of her Spanish one?”

“No need,” he said, defeated. “But I’m a bit homesick, and the Americans have threatened to give us a job.”

“What, seriously? What job?”

Luke relayed the events of the previous night and how the publication Travis Wise worked for had expressed their interest in hiring private investigators.

He also explained the facts surrounding the disappearance of Simon Smith and how he thought both occurrences were somewhat connected.

It was too much of a coincidence, and at the Bakshi & Contadino Agency, they didn’t believe in those.

“I hope you’ve said yes,” said Divya when Luke finished talking.

“I was waiting to talk to you first, and to be clear, we’re only getting officially hired and paid to investigate the poisoning of Travis.”

“Yes, yes, let’s take it,” Divya said.

“Argh,” Luke growled. “Really?”

“Luke, we’ve got nowt on the books right now. That’s why I said it was a good time for you to head off for a couple of days and spend some time with Sol in LA. Honestly, this couldn’t’ve come at a better time. We needed clients, and somehow, you’ve gone and found them.”

“But I found them in bloody Los Angeles!” Even he could hear how ridiculous he sounded.

The truth was that the Bakshi & Contadino Agency needed cash urgently.

He’d been worried before traveling to Los Angeles because of that.

He’d almost told Sol that he couldn’t join her in the end because of how short on money he was, but he’d feared she would see it as one more reason why they weren’t a good fit.

“I’m sure you can survive wearing board shorts and drinking kale juices for a few more days,” Divya teased.

“You’re joking, but you don’t even realize.

I haven’t been able to read a restaurant menu where all the dishes didn’t feature either kale or avocado—if not both.

You ask a waiter to suggest something to order, and they always invariably say the brussels sprouts or the asparagus!

” And yes, he’d almost told his romantic partner he wouldn’t accompany her there not only because he was broke but because he was a consummate reluctant traveler.

“Still not understanding why you’re complaining.”

“Alright, aren’t you going to join me in the ingestion of kale and avocado?”

“Are the clients willing to pay for my flight there?”

“Shit, probably not.”

“Then I’ll have to help you from here. And, if you need some help there, you can ask Sol,” Divya said.

Luke’s jaw was tight as he spoke. “I’m not getting Sol involved this time.”

“The way you told me the whole story, Sol is already quite involved,” Divya said. He knew that, but hearing it out loud didn’t help. “The last time she was involved in a case wasn’t that bad. You got a detective agency and a relationship out of it.”

“There’s a missing critic whose apartment is bloody. And another one who only made it alive out of an awards ceremony because he has a nut allergy. This isn’t like the last time Sol was involved.”

Divya’s tone sharpened as she spoke. “Careful she doesn’t hear you. Last time, her reputation and career were at stake. Not sure she sees it as nothing.”

“And I’m not saying it was nothing! You always take her side, even when she’s not here.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Don’t get jealous, will you?” Divya teased him.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just saying that I have the feeling this case may be dangerous, and I don’t want her near danger.” Saying it out loud helped him realize how much he didn’t want Sol getting involved in the new investigation.

“Absolutely, but so far you just have a gut feeling that this may be dangerous and you know those?—”

“Don’t solve cases,” Luke finished.

“Què t’ha passat?” Lola asked Sol in Catalan, visibly concerned about what had happened to her friend.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Sol replied, also in Catalan, to her screenwriter friend who lived in Los Angeles.

They’d met when Sol lived in California, and they bonded over their common Barcelona homesickness.

They’d remained close since then. Even after Sol’s move.

She’d perfected the art of long-distance friendships.

Lola looked at the normally stylish Sol and shrugged. They were meeting on Third Street in West Hollywood, in front of the salad and healthy-foods staple Joan’s on Third.

“The airline lost my suitcase, and I’ve had to improvise. They still haven’t delivered my clothes!”

“Oh no!” Lola said, understanding dawning on her face.

“I did some emergency shopping for underwear, toiletries, a damn party dress, and the most uncomfortable shoes in the history of heels ... but somehow I managed to forget about jeans, sweaters, and most basics. Hence the—” Sol gestured to her look.

She wore a pink Bimba y Lola cap to protect her face from the sun, which had been miraculously packed in her carry-on, black leggings that she’d remembered to buy because she had attended a Pilates class that morning before heading there, and a giant navy sweatshirt that she’d borrowed from Luke.

It was stamped with the word ITALIA in big letters, and apparently it had been a souvenir gift from his sister Gaia, who was four years his senior and had gotten it at the 2016 Rio Olympics.

“Okay, I understand your luggage got lost, and you had to make do with your partner’s hoodie, but did he go missing with the rest of your wardrobe?” Lola asked Sol as they both made their way inside the restaurant and lined up at one of the deli counters to order their lunch.

“What do you mean?”

Lola lifted an eyebrow, clearly annoyed. “Where’s Luke? You’ve been telling me all about him for months, and I thought I was going to meet him.”

“Ets una xafardera,” said Sol, dismissing her friend.

“I’m dying with curiosity, yes.”

“I promise I’ll introduce you before we leave, but I wanted to see you alone,” said Sol.

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk about him, obviously.”

Lola uncrossed her arms, suddenly understanding. “Ah.”

“I was actually going to propose?—”

“Not another marriage!” Lola interrupted.

“Of course, not another marriage,” said Sol, her tone just shy of annoyed.

“I’m never getting married again! You know that.

But I was going to propose to Luke to move in together with me.

We’ve been practically living together since the summer, and it would save him some money.

His place is all the way up, almost in the outer limits of North London, and not very convenient for me. ”

“So you want him to move in with you?” Lola said.

“Yes, of course. My place is much bigger than his. Ridiculously small by any Californian standard but apparently quite big for a London cottage.”

“Perhaps phrase it differently when you bring up the subject with him,” Lola said, choosing her words cautiously. “Don’t just assume he’s going to see your place as the most desirable one.”

“But it is!”

Lola breathed deeply, as if bracing herself to find the patience to deal with Sol. “Didn’t you tell me he’s a North Londoner through and through? Perhaps he doesn’t fancy living south of the Thames.”

“Okay, okay. Point taken. That’s why I wanted to talk about this with someone with the capacity for empathy, because I know I tend to be clueless sometimes.

But the thing is, I’m no longer sure if moving in together is a good idea,” admitted Sol.

She didn’t add anything else as it was finally their turn to order food, and she hadn’t even had time to check the menu.

She copied Lola in her choice of the quiche of the day and a side of greens.

“What happened? Why don’t you want to propose anymore?” Lola asked Sol as they both sat at one of the outdoor tables, waiting for their food to be brought out.

“Nothing, really. I mean, these past few days haven’t been perfect. But a relationship cannot be perfect all the time, I know that. But then we came here, and it brought me memories of so many things, of everything that can go wrong.”

“Los Angeles is reminding you of your ex-husband David, and now you don’t know if you want to commit to another relationship because you’re afraid it’ll be the same as that last one,” Lola said.

“That, basically.” Sol hadn’t realized the extent of her doubts until she heard her friend’s words. “And I want you to know the only reason I don’t have a professional therapist analyzing every single aspect of my disastrous life is because I have you doing an amazing job for free.”

Lola gave her the judgy eye. “You don’t have a disastrous life. Quite the contrary, I’d say. I’ve seen pictures of Luke, remember?”

“He is awfully handsome,” Sol admitted.

“He also seems to know how to make you happy, which is something David certainly forgot how to manage by the end of your marriage.”

“And the middle of it. So you still think I should propose?”

Lola shrugged, as if contemplating the options. “Think about it. There’s no rush.”

“It’s not like I haven’t made any commitments already with him. I got a fucking IUD inserted,” Sol said.

“Those can be painful!”

“But what if he doesn’t want the new commitment that moving in together implies? I’m no longer sure we want the same things ...”

“Then he’ll probably let you know,” argued Lola, and it sounded reasonable. “Why don’t you see how things go, and tell him something by the end of this trip. Traveling with someone is a great opportunity to learn new things about them.”

“I think Luke is hating this trip,” Sol said.

Lola arched her eyebrows in an almost offended stare. “He doesn’t like LA?”

“I don’t think he does,” Sol realized. “In his defense, I haven’t made a proper effort to show him the city. And we both know Los Angeles can be hard to know for a European. He’s one of those people who likes walking everywhere, so…”

“He’ll get nowhere that way.”

“Plus, the awards ceremony yesterday wasn’t necessarily a fun activity with Travis getting poisoned.”

“Poor Travis. I like him. When my last TV show opened, his was the nicer review. He really understood what we were going for. Which can’t be said about the rest of your profession,” Lola dissed, pointing in Sol’s direction.

“Ouch.” Sol feigned offense with a hand over her sternum.

“Which is why I don’t understand why they’re firing him.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Lola said. “ Performance Weekly fired him. This is his last week at the job.”

“You mean there were layoffs, and they let him go?” said Sol. “He’d been there forever, so he was probably making more than most of the other staff.”

“No, no. The way the story has been told to me, he wasn’t laid off but fired,” Lola said, happy to share some gossip with Sol.

“But Claudia told me he was retiring !”

“Who’s Claudia again? ”

“My former editor at Performance Weekly and Travis’s boss,” explained Sol.

“So another journalist?”

“Yes.”

“Sol, guapa, you’re my favorite journalist. But you’re aware your sector has a way of saying things that aren’t completely accurate when it suits a narrative, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“That perhaps Claudia told you Travis was retiring because she didn’t want to tell you why they’d fired him.”

“I think I should call Claudia and ask her.”

“Not so fast!” objected Lola. “When is it again that I’m meeting Luke?”