Chapter Eight
After the morning I’d had, probably the last person I wanted showing up in my kitchen after I got home from my stint at the Monterey Park police station was Eloy Esparza, Naomi’s assistant…or manager…or stylist. He was actually a bewildering combination of all three, depending on what was going on in Naomi’s life at any particular moment. At any rate, I was feeling a little fried, and I would have preferred to not have him descend.
Unfortunately, it was pretty obvious that the universe had decided to ignore my wishes.
He gave a peremptory knock at the back door and then came sailing in, black hair impossibly sleek despite the damp day outside. Actually, it had stopped raining for a little bit, and I had the uncharitable thought that he’d waited for a break in the weather b
