Page 18 of Throwing Shade
A startled laugh burst out of him. “How hammered are you, Mir?”
“Fairly?” I hadn’t intended for it to come out that blunt, but so it had. Oh well. I’d always been a more direct person than he was. “Sorry. Let me rephrase that.”
“No need. That’s basically what happened.” Eli shut off the tap and dried his hands on a tea towel. “I just can’t imagine what you’re going to equate it to.”
“Bear with me. All will be made clear.”
He retrieved the Riesling from the fridge and rummaged through a drawer for the corkscrew. “In that case, I also recall that I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed anal.”
“True. Though you were never as excited giving as taking.”
“You’d think that was a clue,” he said, dryly.
“You’d think.”
Eli yanked the cork out and frowned. “Do you have regrets about our sex life?”
“Non, je ne regrette rien.” I finished my wine and held out the glass, which Eli obediently refilled. “Little known fact. Edith Piaf was actually singing about butt sex.”
He rubbed a hand over his bald head. “That explains a lot about the French.”
I screwed up my face, trying to remember my original point. “Okay, back to what I was saying. When you first brought up the truth of your sexuality, it was hard to accept, but with a lot of work we got to a good place. Together. Right?”
Eli eyed me warily, raising his glass to his lips. “Right.”
I disengaged my shadow, making Delilah shadow box around him.
My ex didn’t react. He continued to stare at me, waiting for me to say something.
Delilah punched him in the shoulder and Eli shivered.
“Someone walked over my grave,” he said. “So, what’s up?”
The perception filter, that was what was up. Eli wasn’t picking up on Delilah doing anything, even when I made it painstakingly obvious. I pursed my lips. Maybe hoping he’d see something his brain was used to writing off, like the shifting movements of a shadow, was too much.
He knew I was here, though. Perhaps I could use that.
“Hang on.” Grabbing the empty wine bottle, I threw it in the recycling bin on the back porch, calling up my cloaking power when I stepped inside the room and not dropping it until I’d sat back down.
Eli started, sloshing the wine in his glass. “Damn.” He shook his head and yawned. “I’m more tired than I thought. I totally spaced out and didn’t see you come back.”
I made Delilah jump up and catch the light fixture. She hung upside down, swinging back and forth in front of him. “Weird. You don’t see anything new about me?”
He grimaced. “Is this a trick question? Did you get a haircut?”
Delilah sank to the floor, a normal shadow. I might be able to literally hammer him over the head, but I didn’t want to hurt him. I sighed. Sure, I could say it to him in words: “Hey, by the way, I have magical powers!” but without anything he could see to back it up, he’d think it was the wine. Or perimenopause. Or a million other tiny excuses Sapiens made up for this stuff.
The perception filter was, unfortunately, too strong.
“Ness is here,” Sadie called out. “Bye!” The front door slammed shut behind her.
“Now that the kid’s gone…” Eli gave me an inquisitive look and I scrambled to come up with something suitable to tell him. “Are you also going through an identity crisis?”
“Of sorts,” I said.
“You know you can always talk to me,” he said.
I toed at my shadow. I can talk, you just won’t always hear me. “I know. We can discuss that another time. I’m more worried because Jude was supposed to meet me last night for a drink after work and she never showed. She didn’t come to brunch either, she’s not at her place, and the artist next door to her studio hadn’t seen her.”
