Here’s the very important thing I realized, sometime between kicking a mic cord’s ass and escaping from the kitchen as fast as my tiny legs could carry me: that kiss between me and Rose had been mind-blowing, but it absolutely could not happen again.
So many feelings were crashing through me, I had to stop and lean against the business card-plastered wall as I ordered my blush to recede and my heart to stop beating so fast.
So, point the first: Despite knowing me well enough to receive my decidedly unsexy late night texts, Rose thought I was sexy enough to kiss. She did see me that way. Perhaps she had even fantasized about one of my body parts in the same way that I obsessed over her neck.
Point the second: That should have made me absolutely elated.
Point the third: Instead, it completely freaked me out.
Because look what had just happened: we hadn’t even slept together yet, and I’d run. When I’d first made my proclamation at Evie’s bachelorette party that I was going to try to “next level” things with Rose . . . what was I thinking? Perhaps that with her, it would be different. That I’d be able to go deeper with her, that I wouldn’t leave her behind when everything stopped being simple fun. Because she was just that wonderful.
But my actions just now had dredged up a terrible truth: I was destined to ghost Rose just as I’d ghosted every other hook-up. I was simply not capable of giving her more—and she would want more, she was Rose. If she tried to get any closer to me, she would inevitably end up hurt. I cared way too much about protecting her beautiful, precious, marshmallow feelings to do that to her. Perhaps we were destined to stay in Friendlandia. That way, I could help her attain what she deserved. And she deserved the world.
I needed to recommit myself to Operation Rose + Celine = Heart Eyes with gusto.
“Hey, Valdez.” I turned to see Kevin bustling up to me. “Is the ruckus in there over?” He gestured toward the kitchen door. “’Cause Shruti’s here and I want to make sure we’re moving along. We’ve got a schedule.”
“Yes, it’s taken care of, I suppose.” I arched an eyebrow at him. “For now.”
But he was already moving, heading to the other side of the room, where Shruti was wheeling in her rack of costumes. It was all sequins, as far as the eye could see. Shruti was both the top purveyor of the city’s finest vintage goods and a superheroine in her own right—she had the ability to grow her hair at will, which had come in handy during many a battle.
Shruti caught my eye, grinned, and gestured to a floor-length concoction of lace and chiffon with a dramatic high neck that looked like it would fit me perfectly. I gave her a thumbs-up. Her expertise in fashion meant she shared my appreciation for a well-fitting frock. And she understood my issues with length—even though many of the vintage offerings on the market suited my minuscule frame, skirts were often too long and/or cumbersome. But Shruti always managed to help me find the perfect thing. And wearing the perfect thing enhanced my karaoke performances, making me feel strong and confident. Shruti winked at me and turned to Celine, who appeared to be inquiring about a particularly sparkly jumpsuit.
Before I could ruminate further on the fine art of bedazzling, Rose emerged from the kitchen with Evie and Aveda trailing behind her. Aveda toted the giant Tupperware containing our rogue mic cord.
“I’m going to take this back to HQ,” Aveda said, brandishing the Tupperware. “Nate can run all those boring tests he loves so much—”
“All those very helpful tests,” Evie corrected, nudging her in the ribs.
“—and we’ll see if it tries anything,” Aveda continued, her eyes narrowing at the Tupperware. “I’m ready for you,” she hissed at it.
“I did a quick scan in there,” Rose said, waving the scanner tool at the kitchen. She seemed to be back to her usual all-business self. That should have made me feel relieved, but I was hit with a slight twinge of disappointment. “Supernatural energy is present—same source, the Pussy Queen Portal,” Rose continued. “But it’s a little stronger now, not really fading like it was before. Kind of like someone turned the volume up just a bit.”
“So we should shut this place down for the time being, no?” Aveda said, frowning. “Kevin will have to cancel—er, postpone—his precious competition until we figure this thing out.”
“Or . . .” My gaze went back to Celine, who was examining Shruti’s jumpsuit with great interest. A wisp of an idea took root in the back of my mind. “There might be another option. Let’s go over what we know.” I straightened my spine, my brain snapping into investigation mode. Both Evie and Aveda tended to find investigation mode incredibly tedious, but I loved it. It made me feel like one of my British murder detectives—like DC Janet Scott and DC Rachel Bailey, who headlined one of my favorite shows, Scott & Bailey. They were best friends, complete messes, and clearly meant to be together even though they kept getting matched up with painfully inferior men.
“Two attacks so far—” I began.
“That we know of,” Evie chimed in.
“That we know of,” I confirmed. “Both involving a previously inanimate object that seemed to suddenly have a mind of its own—the chandelier and the mic cord.”
“And in both cases, the object reverted back to normal right after,” Evie said. “Or at least, we’re presuming that’s the case.” She gave the Tupperware Aveda was holding a light tap.
“Traces of supernatural energy picked up at the site,” Rose said, nodding around the karaoke bar. “Said energy fades, but is not totally neutralized post-attack.”
“And the energy—or whatever it is—has viciously targeted the same person both times,” I concluded.
“Is there a reason it’s going after Celine?” Rose said. “We scanned her and she appears to be a perfectly normal human.”
“Who’s capable of an inhumanly incredible performance,” I murmured. I was chagrined to hear that strand of jealousy working its way into my voice again.
“Maybe we should re-interview her,” Aveda said, eyes narrowing. “Humans have collaborated with demon forces to do a shitload of evil in the not-so-distant past, after all. Perhaps someone with a grudge has figured out how to channel that energy Celine’s way and is trying to get some revenge going.”
“And that brings me to my alternative plan,” I said, the idea finally taking a fuller and more recognizable shape in my head. “Let’s not cancel the competition. Let’s draw this force out and see if we can beat it.”
“You mean use Celine as bait?” Evie said, cocking an incredulous eyebrow.
“It’s not unlike plans we’ve tried before,” Aveda admitted.
“Right, but when we’ve used, say, me as bait . . . I mean, I can shoot fire out of my hands,” Evie sputtered. “Kind of an important difference.”
“You forget that Celine will have the very best bodyguard possible,” I said, drawing myself up tall. “Her fellow competitor, who will be by her side every step of the way.”
“I agree,” Rose said, just as Evie opened her mouth to protest. “Lucy is the best.”
I squashed the momentary pulse of warmth around my heart.
“Let her do her thing,” Rose continued.
“And in the meantime,” Aveda said, “we can try to figure out what might be causing this and if there’s some kind of malicious intent behind it. That will make us better prepared to take it on.”
“What else do we know about Celine?” Evie said. She still looked reluctant, but like she was willing to go along with the plan for the time being.
“She mentioned coming to The Gutter with her mom when she was younger,” I said, replaying our conversation in my head. “Maybe we should also dig into the past of this place, see if there are any records or photos from that time that might help us come up with a lead? Perhaps her mother had a rival.”
“I can do that,” Evie said. “That will be a big freakin’ bear, I’m sure—I doubt Kevin has anything arranged in a recognizable system of organization.”
“I’ll shuttle this home,” Aveda said, lifting the Tupperware. “Lucy, Rose: since you talked to Celine before, why don’t you take on the follow-up convo?”
“That was mostly Lucy,” Rose said. “She was amazing, established a real rapport with Celine.”
“Ah, which is why you should talk to her by yourself this time, darling,” I said, waving a hand at Rose. “A fresh perspective would likely do us good on that front. I can help Evie sift through the endless paperwork.”
“I can totally handle that myself,” Evie said hastily. I noticed her and Aveda exchanging the most imperceptible of glances. Evie and Aveda were so bonded together, they could often communicate via some sort of BFF mind-meld telepathy. This was extremely useful in battle and completely annoying any other time—especially when it was obvious they were mind-melding about Rose and me, and that Evie had clearly joined Aveda’s plot to get us together.
A skitter of annoyance ran up my spine. Honestly. Who did they think they were dealing with? Neither of them watched nearly enough British murder shows to even come close to matching me when it came to a simple game of manipulation.
“Weren’t you just joking about hating every minute of that tedious task?” I said to Evie. “I’m offering my assistance where it makes most sense—the sifting is clearly the bigger job. And Celine will likely feel more comfortable if she’s just talking to one person. More like a friendly conversation than a full-on investigative session.”
And with that, I swept toward the back room. Where I was guessing Kevin stored all the bar’s records. And where I’d really have to school myself in order to not return to my most recent memory of the place.
“Lucy . . .” Rose began.
But I just kept walking, pretending not to hear her.