Chapter 4: The Napkin

At ten the next morning I was standing outside Kasper's studio in my work scrubs, with no sleep and a gas station coffee.

The studio was a storefront on Superior Street with a neon sign in the window that said ON AIR.

Under the sign, a small camera on a tripod was streaming the lobby to his followers.

I looked straight into it.

"Good morning," I said. "I'm here for my property."

Then I pushed the door open.

Six people sat in the lobby on grey couches, drinking oat milk lattes.

They all stopped talking.

I knew two of them.

One was the young audio engineer who ran Kasper's soundboard.

The other was his sponsor liaison, who had once sent me a fruit basket.

Neither of them could look at me.

"Anja," Kasper said from the doorway of the booth. "You look tired."

He had a coffee in one hand and a new gold watch on his wrist.

"Where are my notebooks?"

"Safe."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the only one you need right now."

He smiled at the room, and a couple of the staff smiled back, because he was paying them.

"Let's step into my office."

"No," I said. "I'll stay out here, where people can hear you."

His smile thinned.

"Fine. You want to do this in the lobby? They're a gift, Anja."

"The notebooks."

"Your words. You gave them to me every night for six years, and I read them. I've been loving you out loud. Don't you see that?"

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