Thirty

“ARE you talking about Gun Girl?”

Tuck’s brown eyes widened. “Oh, God! Is that what they’re calling her now?”

At his anguished cry, the young brunette by the window stopped tapping and peeked over her computer screen.

Time for privacy!

I hustled Tuck to the empty coffee bar, sat him on a stool, and pulled him a fresh espresso. Then I slid the demitasse in front of him, rested my elbows on the marble counter, and quietly commanded—

“Tell me what’s going on.”

For the first time in recent memory, Tucker Burton refused to meet my gaze.

“Oh, Clare, I wanted to help Carol Lynn, that’s all. I never imagined she’d do what she did, right here in our Village Blend.”

“I still don’t understand. I knew you were acquainted with Carol Lynn, but—”

“More than acquainted!” he cried, rattling the demitasse. “She’s a friend. And a wonderful, generous person! She’s also vulnerable and lonely and a walking pharmacy—”

“A what?”

Tuck raised a hand. “All prescribed by her psychiatrist. She has a few emotional issues. But mostly she’s just naïve to the ways of this big bad town, like you were—”

“Me?”

“I took the girl under my wise and seasoned wing, like I did with you—”

“Me!?!”

“Of course. You both needed advice and guidance when you arrived in Manhattan, and I was happy to provide it.”

“Let’s stick to the present, shall we? How exactly did you meet Ms. Kendall?”

“She did seamstress work for Punch. Those cabaret gowns are a bitch to take care of, especially the sequined numbers, and she did a fabulous job. So I hired her to do all the costuming for my superhero charity show. She’s a whiz at mending spandex, too, let me tell you! That’s how she got noticed by the costume designer on the movie I’m in. After she was hired to assist in wardrobe, she told me about a late casting call for an actor who dropped out. Carol Lynn is the whole reason I got the part!”

“I don’t even know the name of your movie.”

“Swipe to Meat. That’s Meat with an A. It’s the story of a New York chef turned serial killer who hooks up with his beautiful victims through a dating app, kills them in the throes of passion, and bakes their hearts into meat pies—kind of a Sweeney Todd meets He’s Just Not That Into You. I play the genial doorman who keeps helping the killer with his garbage bags and wondering why there are so many of them. I catch on eventually and have the greatest death scene! It’s just spectacular—on paper. They paused the production before we shot it!”

I shuddered. “I don’t know if I could take seeing you killed, Tuck, even as a fictional character.”

He patted my hand. “Honey, I don’t blame you. Frankly, if the producer was an exploitation ham like William Castle, he’d probably use Carol Lynn’s viral video for publicity.” Tuck sighed. “But instead he’s going to help defend Carol Lynn. He feels very bad about what happened with the gun—”

“Gun?”

“The weapon she loaded with blanks—”

“Oh, now I see. Carol Lynn took the gun from your set.”

Tuck lowered his voice. “The gunsmith left the set early with the weapon unsecured, which is a big no-no. Carol Lynn ‘borrowed’ it, and you know the rest.” Tuck’s shoulders sagged again. “I’m so sorry, Clare.”

“But you’re not responsible. Not for any of this.”

“You don’t understand. Carol Lynn started using Cinder on my advice. She’s such a shy person, very private. She had little experience with the opposite sex, but she confided that she was lonely. With daydreams of romantic dinners and strolls through Washington Square Park, she asked me and Punch if we knew any nice guys around her age. The only straight young men we knew were already in relationships, so I advised her to use Cinder—I thought it would be totally safe for her. Its users are supposed to be screened for legitimacy. No make-believe profiles. And she would be in control of making first contact; no unwanted pervy messages, like women get with other apps. I was also the one who told her to meet her dates here at the Village Blend. I convinced her it would all go fabulously!”

He seized the demitasse and drained it in one gulp. Finally, his eyes met mine. “So you see? What happened here the other night is completely my fault.”

“You’re wrong, Tuck, you only tried to help her. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Richard Crest. Did Carol Lynn tell you about him?”

“Are you kidding? She poured her heart out to me after he shredded it.”

“Didn’t she check him out first?”

“She did. His social media looked legit, and in line with how he described himself. And the ‘Cinder Chat’ forum comments had entries for Crest that were totally complimentary—‘He’s a real gentleman.’ ‘What a nice guy . . .’ When I heard that baloney, I told Carol Lynn to put up her own comment, tell the truth to prevent Crest from hurting another unsuspecting Cinder-ella. And report him to the app administrators for abuse!”

“Did she?”

“I read what she wrote before she tried to post it. Carol Lynn was articulate and detailed. But the comment never posted. First, an auto-reply claimed it was ‘awaiting moderation.’ Then her comment was deleted, without any message explaining why. The administrators ignored her abuse report, too. They just allowed Crest to keep on swiping.”

I was outraged. How could they do that?! Before I could say as much, Tuck dropped a bombshell on my head.

“I’ve made up my mind, Clare. Because of my actions, I hurt a friend and this wonderful coffeehouse. I let Madame down and especially you. That’s why I’m resigning. Today. Without a two-week notice. You can keep my final paycheck, too. I don’t deserve it.”

“Tuck, no! You can’t do this. We need you—”

“You don’t. Look around! I did this.” He shook his head and stepped off the stool. “I know you’d never fire me. You’d keep me here, paying my salary while your coffeehouse died. But I am not going to put you through that—”

Tears in his eyes, he bolted. Before I could get around the counter and across the shop, he was opening and closing the front door.

“Good-bye, Clare!”

Undeterred, I hurried forward. If I had to chase Tucker all the way to Hell’s Kitchen and drag him back by his floppy hair, I would!

Pulling open the door, I was ready to go when a wall of humanity hit me. In a tidal wave of pastel tees and skinny jeans, the female swarm crowded my entrance and flowed in, carrying me along with it!