Page 49 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“That’s a fancy word.” Green pauses with a chip halfway to his mouth. “What the fuck does it mean?”

“It’s a person who writes operas.”

“Operas. Huh.” He munches on.

“Perfect. Does she have a favorite opera or performer?” Angel presses.

“There’s this one called The Forbidden Marriage, by Kristoff somebody or other. She said it was the opera that made her fall in love with them. She went on and on about the silver dress the heroine wore and some beaded purse she carried. She called it a clutch, which just confused me at the time, because, you know, motorcycles have clutches.”

“Damn. You remember all that?” Green asks.

“It stuck in my head because the title of the opera made me think of Romeo and Juliet. You know, forbidden and all that.”

Angel turns and looks at Green as he shoves another chip in his mouth.

“What? Do I have crumbs in my beard?” he asks, rubbing his hand across his jaw.

“Have you been listening at all?” she asks, raising her brows.

“Um, yeah. She wants to write operas,” he replies, looking confused. “And Marcus can’t tell the difference between a motorcycle part and a purse.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re trying to think of an awesome gift to give her. Something opera related.” She emphasizes the word, urging him to catch up to her train of thought. “Can you think of anyone we know who works at the San Francisco Opera?”

“Oh, right. Sara. Yeah, okay, let me call her.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and punches in the number for his ol’ lady. Then puts the call on speaker and sets it on the bar top for everyone to hear.

“Hey, honey,” Sara answers.

“Hey, sexy. I need a favor. Well, actually Marcus, our prospect, needs one.”

“Um, okay. Shoot.” Her voice sounds a little bewildered over what she could possibly do for a prospect.

“He’s seein’ this girl, and he wants to impress her. The chick loves operas. Her favorite is The Forbidden Man.”

“Do you mean The Forbidden Marriage, sweetie?” she asks. I can hear her smile in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know anyone involved with that show? We’re tryin’ to come up with a gift he could give her. You know, like a signed playbill or a prop or something?”

“That show hasn’t been active in years.” I can hear her fingers drumming on a table as she thinks. “But sometimes we keep old props and fashion in storage. I’ll check. When does he need it?”

“Saturday.”

“Why do you men always wait until the last minute? Then you expect some fairy godmother to come in and save the day!”

“Babe, now you got me thinking about that fairy outfit you wore that one time. You know, the crotchless one with wings like a goddamn Victoria Secret’s model.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that one. You know I still have it.”

“I better come home to find you in it.”

She giggles. “Yes, sir.”

“For love of all that is holy, can we please stop listening to your sex plans?” Crash yells across the room.

“Do you have me on speaker?” Sara squeals, mortification in her voice.

“Oh, yeah, sorry babe.”

“Hey Sara, you got any more of those fairy outfits or maybe an Angel one? Asking for a friend,” Cole teases.

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