Books, Tattoos & Other Inky Things

4. His Name Is Nocturne.

Baz eyed the bottle and pushed his chair out of her swinging range.

"I didn't lose it. My roommate threw an impromptu party last night. I think someone at the party took it after I crashed."

Baz braced for her reaction. His only serious relationship had trained him to expect anything from tears to violence when delivering bad news, but Nella's reaction was to fume and funnel the wine.

"Dammit, Baz—" she gulped and choked again. "You just... you just... left it lying around at a party!?!?!"

"I did not leave it lying around. I put it in my roommate's home office, away from the party, where it would be safe. My roommate is uber-organized and responsible. No way did he misplace it. There were only a few people left at the party when I went to bed, but one of them had to have taken it."

Nella scraped her hair off her face in irritation, "What the hell kind of friends do you have that would steal from you?"

This was the tricky part, the part where she was going to freak, he knew.

"Well, it's kind of ironic that you would ask that. I wouldn't call them friends. But you might."

"What?"

"The four stragglers at the party were all TO students. Three of them are in your writing program. One is an undergrad in your department. Mitchell Brooks. Frankie Walsh. Hazel, I-don't-know-her-last-name. Paul Robinson."

Nella's anger blossomed. She rose, her limbs and indignation unfurling like a large, bright jungle flower as she slammed the wine bottle down on the coffee table.

"What the hell are you talking about!?!?" Nella screeched at him, pulling at her hair. "Are you kidding me!?!? How do you even know them!?!?!"

"Mitchell is my downstairs neighbor. Paul lives in my building, too. Frankie and I hang out at Storyteller Night at SmellyBooks. Hazel, I don't know, but I gave her a tat, and she came with the others."

Nella gasped and sputtered.

"You... I... you... I can't fucking believe this!!!! I told you I had shown no one that manuscript! How could do this to me? They are the very last people I would have shown it to! They already think I'm a writer without substance!"

Baz could appreciate Nella's feelings but could not find it in his brain to appreciate the screech in her voice. "Calm down, darlin'. They didn't even know it was your book. Hazel maybe had an inkling, but I didn't confirm—"

"Don't you darlin' me!" She poked him in the chest. "Tell me what happened!"

"I'm trying to." Baz fought to remain calm. Her anger was riling him up. He was somewhere between wanting to put a hand over her mouth to shut her up and wanting to use his tongue to taste her fire.

"Well, you're doing a piss-poor job!"

"Because you keep interrupting me! Sit down, and calm down, and let me explain."

He snatched up the wine bottle, and Nella watched Baz's Adam's apple dip and rise in determined drinking. She put her own hands over her face, then sank back into the chair, doing her best to control her temper with deep breaths. He offered her back the bottle. She took another long greedy pull, her brow furrowing in the discomfort of chugging strong wine. When she couldn't swallow anymore, she pulled her legs up onto the couch and cupped her eyes in the heels of her palms.

"Just tell me the truth, Baz," she said in a low voice. "Did you talk about Rindlewinn with them? Tell them it was mine? Have a laugh about it with your drinking buddies?"