Page 115 of Throwing Shade
“Please turn it off.”
He hurried across the room. The silence was almost worse because with it would come questions I didn’t want to answer.
I blotted my forehead. “Thanks.”
“Want to tell me what that was about?”
“I should go see how Jude is doing.” With that, I bolted for the elevator, Laurent sighing behind me.
The hole in the drywall had been repaired, but the door and gate were open, and the lights were on.
Emmet, still missing a leg, but resplendent in one of Jude’s silk kaftans, sat on the ground playing cards with my best friend. He slapped down his final three cards and threw up his arms. “Gin Rummy, bitches!”
I sat down cross-legged next to them, setting the box between Jude and me.
“Is that what I think it is?” She squinted at the box, one eye still puffy and swollen.
“You bet.”
“Yum. The perfect bondage food.” Jude tugged on her cuffs, rattling the long chains attaching them to the iron wall. “They’re VIP level. Very baller.” She opened the box and took out one of the treats with her good hand. Her broken fingers had been wrapped in fresh tape and gauze, and she’d showered, but the bruises on her face were even more ghastly purple and yellow.
“Emmett,” I said.
“Yeah?” The golem picked up the cards.
“I spoke with Zev. He’s not going to come after you. You’re safe.”
“The first day of the rest of my life. The magic of new beginnings.” He jammed the cards into the deck hard enough to bend one.
Jude leaned over and squeezed his arm. “We’ll be okay. I won’t desert you.”
Emmett rolled his eyes but he uncrumpled the card.
Jude sat back with a shaky smile. They’d have to find their way through this.
“You’re safe too,” I told my best friend.
“Phew. The downside of vampire employers.” Jude bit into the dessert bar. “The termination sucks.”
I barked a laugh. “How’d you get clean clothes?”
Jude rolled up the cuffs of her sweater. “Laurent went to my place and picked them up.”
“What a prince,” I muttered.
Jude frowned. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Nothing.” I bit savagely into a bar. Laurent wanted to be Mr. Nice Guy with Jude when with me it was sarcasm and bullshit psychoanalysis? Fuck him.
Emmett sniffed the treats. “What are these?”
“Nanaimo bars.” I licked custard off my lip. “Invented in Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. They have a coconut graham cracker base, a custard filling, and a layer of hard chocolate on top. You want one?”
“I don’t eat.” Emmett shuffled the cards. “Should I deal you in for the next round?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Any luck with my predicament?” Jude said.
