Page 60 of Throwing Shade
Also in a cloud of exhaust from the dickwad with the deafening muffler in front of us. I gagged on the thick, acrid smoke, the back of my throat burning.
All too soon, Laurent pulled up in front of Hotel Terminus. I dismounted with the same high as when I rode the wooden coaster at the amusement park—and the same desire for another go-around.
He reached out to touch my face, then dropped his hand just shy of making contact. “You’re all flushed.”
“This reminded me how much I love trampolines.”
He frowned. “You’re comparing my motorcycle to a children’s toy?”
“Oh no, your bike is for big boys.” I grinned at his scowl. “See, when I was in elementary school,” I said, “my best friend had a trampoline. It wasn’t like nowadays with netting and parental supervision. The two of us spent hours in the summer doing flips and trying to make the other touch the sky. It was that same scary rush.” I was babbling quickly by the end, because his frown had deepened. “That freedom.”
“You’re not bouncing around. It’s a dance with a lover.” He got off the bike and engaged the kick stand.
“Because you ride her?” I said sarcastically.
“Because two become one.” His rumbled words grazed my skin. “You have to learn what she likes, how she wants to be handled. How deep you can go in a turn, the perfect tempo to coax her into opening up, and when to pull back on going full throttle to make her purr.” He stroked the curved seat with a firm hand.
I wet my lips, a flutter behind my breastbone. “That’s uh, a more poetic way to describe it.”
“As you know, I am French.” His eyes sparkled.
He was also a subcontractor that I’d hired because my friend was in danger. I shook myself out of my daze and handed him the helmet and jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He took the change in topic in stride. “Be here at ten. We’ll hit the vamps when they first wake up and are pre-occupied with opening Blood Alley.”
I groaned. By ten I was in my pajamas. Why couldn’t Jude have gone missing in January when sundown was at five?
“Problem?” Laurent said.
“Nope.”
Helmets tucked under his arms, he strode off without a goodbye.
I started up my car, my adrenaline leaving me in a sudden rush, and rested my head back against the seat. Being locked behind glass felt stifling, so I rolled the window down, letting the cool breeze wash over me.
Tonight had been, dare I say it, fun—Poe, Tatiana, and all—thanks to crankypants. Hearing his rusty laugh in my head, I cruised through the east side, watching people spill out of restaurants. I yearned for a romantic partner with whom I could go home and share my very strange day, but I was going back to an empty duplex, without even Sadie’s bright chatter to liven it up.
The end of the day when Eli and I could take a moment to slow down and connect had always been my favorite part, especially since I spent a lot of time by myself at work. I honked at a car swerving into my lane. Well, I didn’t need a romantic partner to connect. As soon as I found Jude, I’d come clean about my magic.
I turned south on Main Street, driving past the many cafés, vintage clothing stores, local boutiques, and yet more restaurants that made up my neighborhood, wishing I was inside one of them eating and chatting with friends.
When I pulled up to the curb outside the duplex, I considered going next door to Eli’s, but he’d be zoned out watching a movie, half-asleep already, and if Sadie was awake, she’d be online chatting with friends around the world from some of her fandom groups.
Sighing, I let myself into my dark house, and turned on every light. By the time I’d taken a quick shower and gotten into pj’s, I’d convinced myself that my place didn’t need to be lit up like a city skyline, but I’d just clicked off the living room lights when the motion sensor went on.
Putting my cloaking in place, I tiptoed into the kitchen, slid a knife out of the block on the counter, and peered out the door. There was no one there.
I tested every window and door twice to ensure it was locked, and still couldn’t convince myself to turn out my bedroom light. Sliding the knife under my pillow, I prepared to lay awake all night, but all the emotional drain of the past few hours kicked in, and I fell asleep.
Tuesday morning began with me being jolted awake by the slam of my front door and Sadie yelling, “I know where I left my calculator,” followed by her thudding up the stairs.
I let go of the weapon under my pillow.
“Okay, water buffalo,” I said, blinking blearily at my alarm clock. I had ten minutes until it was set to go off, so I pulled the pillow over my head.
More thudding and the slam of the door again kiboshed those last precious moments of sleep. I zombie-walked downstairs and peeped through my front door, but there was no sign that anyone had visited last night. Crossing through the house, I cautiously cracked the back door.
There weren’t any tracks and none of the patio furniture had been disturbed. Shaking my head at my lingering paranoia, I locked the back door. It had probably been that damn raccoon who roamed the neighborhood like a Mafia don.
