Page 51 of Gatsby's Starlet
I made my way into the living room and slowed without meaning to, my gaze dragging over the couch, the table, the small untouched details that hadn’t shifted in years, and it hit the same way it always did, that strange contradiction of a place that still felt full while being completely empty at the same time, the kind of quiet that didn’t settle right, so I scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck and muttered under my breath that the place needed cameras whether someone was actually creeping around or not, because a house left alone this long was a target, plain and simple, no debate about it.
I turned toward the hallway, already pulling out my phone to double-check my list and run through installation order, what needed to go up first, what could wait, when I stopped mid-step, something in my gut tightening as that faint, irritating sense of wrong settled in.
I frowned, lowering the phone as I listened, really listened, but there was nothing there, just the same silence that hadgreeted me when I walked in, and still it didn’t sit right, not exactly, more like a shift just under the surface, small enough to ignore if I wanted to but sharp enough that I didn’t, like something had been moved or disturbed in a way I couldn’t quite pin down, and I muttered it was probably nothing even as I stayed where I was, my eyes moving slower this time, sharper, tracking the hallway again piece by piece.
Everything looked the same—exactlythe same—but the feeling didn’t ease, didn’t fade, just sat there low and unsettled, pressing at the back of my thoughts until I let out a slow breath through my nose and shook my head, telling myself to get a grip because I had work to do and no time to stand around imagining shit that wasn’t there, so I pushed it aside the way I always did and got moving again, stepping into the next room, pulling tools from my bag, settling into the rhythm of the job, focused, controlled, one step at a time, even though that sense of something being off didn’t fully leave, lingering in the back of my mind like it was waiting for something I couldn’t see yet.
And for no real reason at all, Evie slipped into my thoughts, the memory of her smile from the night before catching harder than it should have, the way she’d looked at me like maybe this could turn into something real settling deep, and I exhaled slowly as I adjusted the first camera into place, muttering for myself to focus, because the sooner I finished here, the sooner I could see her again, and I wasn’t about to let anything, real or imagined, get in the way of that.
***
“YOU’RE QUIET TONIGHT,” I said, watching Evie, trying to catch something in her expression that didn’t line up with thesmile she kept giving me, the kind that looked right on the surface but didn’t quite settle underneath it. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, a little too quick, her fingers tightening for a second around the edge of the table before she seemed to catch herself and loosen them, softening it with a small smile. “Just tired.”
I didn’t buy it. Not all the way.
“You sure you wanna be here?” I asked, leaning back in my chair but keeping my eyes on her, not letting it go yet. “I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, but her gaze dropped for a beat before coming back to me, that smile settling in like she was making herself hold it. “I wanna be here.”
I was about to push again, probably shouldn’t have, but I was gonna, when Spinner’s voice cut in behind me, breaking the moment before I could get a real read on her.
“Can we sit here,” he said, already dragging out a chair, “or is this reserved for the fifties crowd only?”
I didn’t even look at him. “You don’t belong here.”
Lucy slid in beside Evie like she’d always had a seat, bumping her shoulder, and Evie leaned into it just enough to say she wanted the distraction. “Ignore him,” Lucy said. “He’s just jealous Gatsby’s got more going on than he ever will.”
“That’s a load of shit and you know it,” Spinner shot back, dropping into the chair across from us. “You eat up everything I throw your way.”
Lucy grinned. “Yeah, I got a weakness for bad decisions.”
Evie laughed, soft, quick, and this time it came a little easier, her shoulders loosening just enough that I caught it, and for a second she looked like herself again.
Then it slipped.
“So, Evie,” Lucy went on, back to be nosey as hell, “I hear you’ve got a vintage thrift store. That’s actually really cool.”
“It’s always been a dream of mine,” Evie said, and her voice softened in a way that felt real, her fingers brushing lightly over the table like she was tracing something that wasn’t there. “Doesn’t really feel like work most days.”
“That’s the goal right there,” Lucy said. “Me and Zeynep will have to come check it out. You open Monday?”
“Yeah,” Evie nodded, but she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear a second too late, like she needed something to do with her hands. “Nine to six.”
There it was again.
Not big. Not obvious.
But there.
Her gaze kept drifting, not around the room like she was curious, but quick, checking, like she was making sure of something without wanting it to be seen.
I leaned back slightly, watching her closer now, letting the conversation move around us while I tried to piece it together.
Was it me?
Hell, maybe it was.
