Page 8 of Sapphire Spring

Jonas nodded with understanding.

“Anyway, college, meeting Connor, that was the first time Ihad friends. Felt like I belonged. Now friends and work are intertwined and… Iguess you’re right. The idea of my sister doing something that might reflectbadly on me here is making me a little jumpy.”

“Connor adores you, and I think you’re a delight. A somewhatornery and obsessive-compulsive delight, but adelightnonetheless. Nothing Pari does on Friday night will change that.”

“Thank you, and I guess I know that, but I’m having troublefeelingthat.”

Jonas nodded. “We’ll work the event together, you andI.You can keep an eye on her, and I can keep an eye on youand make sure you don’t get too…jumpy. Deal?”

Naser nodded. “I’m sorry about prying into your past.”

Jonas shrugged, returning his attention to his file.

“Although, if you really did spend your post-college yearsgetting railed by a hot NFL player, I’m not that sorry.”

“Be gone, child. I have work to do.”

4

Fully dressed, spritzed withcologne, and fortified by a protein shake and a couple swallows ofhangover-easing Corona he’d managed not to throw up, Mason was ready for work.

He was already two hours late, and he hadn’t yet left thehouse.

At his former gig up in LA, his preferred office wear hadbeen lightweight Italian dress pants and white linen shirts. But atWortherProperties, any outfit that wasn’t composed ofsolid, primary colors and brass buckles typically inspired a homophobic commentfrom his dad, so today, Mason was dressed in khakis and anavybluecotton dress shirt that felt scratchy and uncomfortable.

He was backing his silver Ferrari Roma out of his drivewayand onto his private, gated street when there was a tap on the window next tohim.

Mason jumped and saw Shirley Baxter standing next to hiscar. As always, her floral sundress exposed her lean, freckled arms, and herflame red hair was tied back in a ponytail.

He made his bestI’m in a hurrygesture and shemade her best finger-twirlingroll the window down right now,I’mthirty years older than yougesture. There’d be no escaping her, herealized. She was retired, lived right next door, and sat on the board of thehomeowners’ association that governed this private drive. She was also what hislate Aunt Mary would call “a tough old broad” and his dad would call somethingthat could get a man kneed in the groin.

As soon as he rolled the window down, she said, “Really?”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You said that the last five times, Mason.”

“We’ll keep the music down next time.”

“And the screaming, and the people having sex on the beach,and the fist fight on the patio, I’m assuming because someone was mad about thepeople who had sex on the beach.”

Fist fight? Jesus Christ!

He fought an urge to check his own fists for bruises.Shirley seemed to notice. He expected more anger. Concern entered herexpression, and she leaned forward slightly. “I’m not a nun, all right, Mason?I used to tie one on back in my day. But three in the morning? In the middle ofthe week? Come on. That’s out of control.”

“Look, I said it won’t happen again, all right?”

Shirley straightened, glancing in both directions as if shethought someone might be spying on them. It wasn’t likely. Most folks hadalready left for work. Whatever she was about to say must be a real secret.When she leaned in close, Mason was startled by the sympathy in her expression.

“Mason, there was a time in my life when the party got out ofcontrol, too. If you want, I can tell you how I got back on the beam.” She letthis sit. His brain was still foggy, and he was having trouble sorting out herimplication. “I canhelpyou if you want.”

Her earlier irritation with him was preferable to this pity.

“Tellyou what, ma’am. Help me by stayingon your side of the property line, and I’ll stay on mine.”

She recoiled, tongue making a lump under her upper lip,nodding as if some suspicion of hers had been confirmed.

He’d just made a mess for himself. He could feel it.

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