“Well, my thing is important, too!”
I wanted to strike at Dixon while the fire still roiled in my belly, while the profanities and words like dedication and commitment to UDA excellence still flitted around in my mind. I leaned over and turned on the bath tap. “You know, Grandma, let’s take this up later, okay? Let’s make, like, a date. Bathroom mirror, say about seven o’clock? Does that work for you?”
The steam from the tap started to cloud the mirror but not before Grandma’s eyes narrowed and she blew out a long sigh. “Fine. Mine can wait. I just hope what you have to do is important. More important than having a conversation with your dead grandmother whose time on this planet may be limited ...” She sniffed, though her eyes remained dry.
I leaned on my toes and kissed the mirror. “Thanks, Gram, I knew you’d understand. And you’re already dead, so the walk-the-earth thing isn’t as guilt inducing. Good try, though!”
I jumped in the shower with the sound of Grandma groaning behind me.
I didn’t have a pencil skirt or a pair of glasses, but I had the sky-high heels down. Nina had given me a pair of Manolo Blahnicks for a birthday two years ago and I had never worn them. I pulled them out of their box now, examining their narrow, chest-piercing heels, and tossed them on with a businessy black skirt and a no-nonsense French blue button-down. I took a few steps, wobbled uncomfortably, and managed to make it to the front door without breaking an ankle or getting a nosebleed.
Things were starting to look up.
I pulled my hair into a severe-looking French twist in the hallway mirror. I let a few strands fall loose around my face when I thought the look was a little too Russian prison warden, then grabbed my shoulder bag and blew a kiss to ChaCha.
“Wish me lucky, baby girl!”
I practiced my speech the entire way to the UDA but seemed to get less and less confident the closer I got. I belong at the UDA, I reminded myself as I pulled into a space.
Do you?
It was barely a voice, a weird flutter in my mind, but it stopped me. I sucked in a deep breath and gave myself the once-over in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see my grandmother’s exasperated face glaring back. When I didn’t, I straightened my blouse and hopped out of the car, walking—with purpose, as Gram used to say—to the police station vestibule.
“Sophie!”
I whirled and saw Alex over my left shoulder. “Hey, Alex.”
“What are you doing here?”
I put both hands on my hips. “Getting my job back.”
He strode closer to me. “They’re giving you your job back? That’s great!” His smile was wide and genuine.
“Not exactly. But I’m taking it back.”
The smile fell from his lips. “You don’t have the stun gun on you, do you?”
I raised an annoyed eyebrow. “I’m not going to Taser him! Unless he really pisses me off.”
Alex looked alarmed.
“I’m kidding. I’m just going to tell Dixon that he made a mistake in letting me go. The UDA needs me. I do good work. And once he reinstates me there will be no hard feelings.”
Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So you promise you won’t use the stun gun on him? Not that I care if you want to do a little vamp-shock; I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why does everyone think I’m going to fly off the handle all the time? I’m a completely rational, calm human being who just happens to want to reclaim her rightful position among San Francisco’s undead.”
I stopped when I noticed the police station had dropped into silence, all heads turned toward me. I rolled up on my tiptoes and peeked over Alex’s shoulder, catching the wary eye of Chief Dugan. I went flat-footed again and shook my finger in Alex’s face. “That was your fault. I am calm and rational.” The elevator dinged and I jumped inside, watching the door slide shut on the San Francisco Police Department, its clutch of officers and alleged felons staring at me like I was the crazy one.
The closer the elevator dropped to UDA, the farther my heart dropped into my belly. I practiced a few deep-breathing exercises I had learned on a late-night infomercial and went through my speech in my head. When the doors sprang open on the bustling UDA, I was shaking my finger at no one and had worked my anger back up to a frothy lather.
The purple velvet ropes were bulging as all manner of the demon Underworld hopped from foot to foot—or hoof to hoof—waiting for their turn at the windows. Most clutched their paperwork, some passed the time by texting or flipping through the long-expired waiting-room magazines. Mrs. Henderson spun when she saw me, trotting over, her thick dragon tail thumping along behind her.