The Actor's Contract
“Someone from the police came. Diabo wants —”
“Barry! Manners.” Rosa’s voice bursts out, but soft, like she’s scolding a stubborn child. He jerks his head up, startled as if he got tasered. His eyes flick to me and Sky.
“Ah,” he says, swallowing hard, voice dropping an octave as if trying to seduce a loaf of bread. “Sorry, girls, didn’t see you. Sky, dear, welcome home.”
“N o w … w h a t … m u s t … I … d o?” Rosa grins like she’s in a badly dubbed telenovela, her eyes widening in cartoonish suspicion.
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