44
Quincey
“Girl. You have been busy.”
That was an understatement. I was meeting Ricci for coffee because the few phone calls we’d had weren’t doing the trick. She slid into her chair across from me. We were holed up at a table in the far corner, the coffee shop bustling on a Sunday afternoon, and I gave her a look.
“You’re telling me.”
Ricci cupped her hands around her mug and leaned forward. “No. I want you to tell me, please. You’re in the new production?”
I nodded.
“I’ve seen the pictures on the gossip blogs. I want to know everything.”
I frowned. “Gossip blogs?”
She sat back, her eyes widening a bit. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
What could be on a gossip blog? They never cared about Seattle dancers, and Nate was known, but he wasn’t famous.
“There are pictures of you at dinner
