SAM

  Bong! I woke to my pad’s alarm and opened a message from Bitsy Joon. The clock read 2:29 AM Earth time.

  “Go back to sleep, love,” I whispered to Cora in the dark of our starliner cabin.

  That didn’t happen, however, because when I read Bitsy’s message, my whole body tensed, and all thoughts of rest vanished.

  Bitsy: I want you to write “Mafia Moms.” It can be a short story. Send me the first thing you think of; an unedited draft is perfect.

  Attachment: “Mafia Moms” contract.

  Attachment: Reconnaissance file Janelynn Morovic.

  Wait—how did the president of Known Cosmos Earth Press know I’d joked about my old boss being a mafia mom?

  Oh yeah! Bitsy was reading Discordant where I repeatedly referred to the woman I used to babysit for as “probably not a mafia mom.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Why was Bitsy wanting me to write the story I had jokingly called Mafia Moms: Secret Stories From The Vaults Of The Underworld? What was this all about?

  Did she think it would be entertaining? The contract was for a sizable amount of money, but I skipped reading the details and considered the reconnaissance file instead.

  Why was Bitsy investigating my old boss? Curious, I clicked open the file.

  “Oh. My. God. Cora.”

  “Hmmm?” She lifted her head from my lap, blinking sleepily.

  “I got a recon file on my old boss from Bitsy Joon, and you will never believe what was going on in the house where I used to babysit.”

  Cora sat up, “She was running a human trafficking ring? Do they enslave people in Cheyenne, Wyoming?”

  I chuckled, “God, I hope not, but you never know. This might not be that bad, but it is still Earth-shattering—or, truly, Cosmos-shattering.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting, Sam. You know how I get when I’m frustrated.”

  I giggled and pressed a kiss to her lips, wanting to forget about the data pad for a few minutes and enjoy the feeling of Cora warm and soft in bed with me.

  “Hey! I’m still waiting! What was up with the middle of the night hail?” she complained.

  “Bitsy wants me to write another story, and you will never believe what it’s gonna be about.”

  “What do I have to do to find out?”

  I grinned, “Give me a few hours to write it, love. I gotta tell Rhoda; she’ll go ape shit!”

  I pulled out my pad and sent a message.

  Sam: I’ve got huge news

  Rhoda: ??

  Sam: You’re awake!

  Rhoda: I’m impatiently waiting for news

  Sam: Attachment: Reconnaissance file Janelynn Morovic.

  Rhoda: OMFG! NO WAY! Meet me in the dining commons in ten minutes.

  Sam: What about Filly?

  Rhoda: He’s awake! He’ll play Mad Pheasants.

  Sam: ??

  Cora and I dressed and went to get coffee and breakfast with Rhoda and Filly, and when my best friend went ape shit about Janelynn, I suddenly knew exactly how to write “Mafia Moms."

  Because Rhoda wasn’t just excitable, she had insight into what made people tick. And finally, finally, the tech conspiracy started to make sense.