“It just seems like something’s bubbling up. Something bad.”
Evie slung an arm around her pal’s shoulders. “Darling Theta. There’s no need to worry,” Evie said, expertly stealing her flask back from Theta. “Do you know, in the taxi on the way here, I saw a billboard for Marlowe Industries. It said ‘The future of America.’ The future is now, and we’re on the tippy-top of the world. Our best lives are waiting for us around that next bend. We just have to reach for them. Forget bad dreams. They’re just dreams. Let’s drink to the future of America. The future of us. Long may we both reign.”
Evie clinked her flask against Theta’s glass. The bathroom blurred a bit, giving it a soft glow. Evie liked it blurry.
“There’s something else I gotta ask you,” Theta said softly. “It’s about this whole Diviners business—”
“Most of them hocus-pocus phonies,” Evie warned, holding up a finger.
“What I wanna know is, you ever hear of somebody who had a power that was dangerous?”
“Whaddaya mean?” Evie asked. “Dangerous how?”
They were interrupted by a sharp pounding on the hotel room’s door, followed by a gruff voice calling, “Open up. Police.”
“Horsefeathers!” Evie launched herself from the tub, poured her gin into the mouthwash tumbler, and stumbled woozily across the room, exhorting everyone to hide their booze. She spied Sam in the corner avidly kissing the Hungarian circus performer.
“No class a’tall,” Evie tutted on her way past.
She threw open the door. Two policemen flanked the hotel manager. Evie managed a big smile even though her head ached. “Oh, hello! I hope you’ve brought ice. We’ve run out.”
The manager muscled his way in. “The party is over, Miss O’Neill,” he said with barely suppressed fury. “Everyone out! Now! Or I’ll have you all thrown in jail.”
A boozy exhale escaped Evie’s lips, momentarily lifting a curl that immediately fell into her eyes again. “You heard Papa. Better get a wiggle on, everybody.”
Drunken party guests gathered misshapen hats, loose shoes, bow ties, and stockings, and shuffled through the door after the police. Sam left with the Hungarian circus girl in tow.
“She’s too tall for you,” Evie hissed.
“I’ll bet she can bend,” Sam shot back with a grin.
Evie kicked him in the behind.
The manager handed Evie a folded note.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“An eviction notice, Miss O’Neill. You have until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to vacate these premises permanently.”
“Eleven o’clock? Gee. But that’s before noon!”
“I weep,” the manager said, turning on his heel. “Sleep tight, Miss O’Neill.”
Theta grabbed her wrap and headed for the door, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, pal, she’s well on her way to being tight.”
At the door, Evie grabbed Theta’s arm. “Say, Theta, what were you telling me before the cops came?”
Theta’s big brown eyes showed worry for just a second. Then she let the tough-girl mask slide back into place. “Nothing, Evil. Just hot air. Get some sleep. I’ll tell Jericho you say hello.”
When the last guest had cleared out, Evie stumbled to the window and opened it, breathing in the cold night air as she stared at the neat window squares of light and thought of all the lives taking place behind them.
Why did Theta have to mention Jericho?
Evie had petted with lots of boys. Her world was good times. It spun like a roulette wheel. Boys were fun. Boys were playtime. Boys were distractions. Jericho was not a boy.
Just now, with the room emptied of revelers and the prospect of the long, hollow night looming, Evie craved the comfort of another human being. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him, would it? she reasoned as she fumbled the hotel phone from its cradle.