The details of the plan were still fuzzy, but Corinne knew she would find a way. If Carson was in the dark, then the Witcher brothers had to know something about Johnny’s death—or maybe the Witchers were behind it all. Either way, after tonight the Cast Iron crew would know who killed him. Then they could start planning their revenge.
Ada hadn’t replied. She was giving her the look she always gave when Corinne had forgotten something she shouldn’t have.
“What?” Corinne asked, already feeling a headache coming on.
“It’s Tuesday.”
“So?”
“Tonight is your brother’s rehearsal dinner.”
“Oh for cripes’ sake,” Corinne said, plunking the mug onto the table. “Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”
“If you miss the rehearsal dinner, your parents will have every bull in the city looking for you.”
Corinne scowled at her. “I could call and—”
“What excuse could you possibly give that your mother will accept, Cor?”
“What’s going on?” Gabriel was coming down the stairs, unwinding his gray scarf. His coat was still covered in flecks of white. Ada had given him the keys last night, when he had insisted on going home.
“Corinne is trying to dodge her sisterly duties,” Ada said.
“This is ridiculous,” Corinne said. “I can’t waste all night at my stupid brother’s rehearsal dinner. We need to talk to the Witchers and find out what they know.”
“We could go without you,” Gabriel pointed out.
“No we can’t,” Ada said.
“Don’t even think about it,” Corinne said.
Gabriel shrugged out of his coat and sank into an armchair. Corinne groaned and struggled to climb to her feet without sacrificing the warmth of her blanket. She shuffled to her room, sighing indignantly all the while. She left the door open as she dug through the trunk at the foot of her bed, searching for the dress her mother had given her for the occasion months ago.
“You don’t understand. I’m never going to get out of there,” Corinne shouted to them.
“The dress is hanging on the doorknob,” Ada said.
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
“I’m looking at the doorknob right now and I’m telling you, it’s not— Oh.” Corinne pulled off a few scarves and uncovered the cream-colored dress. “My mother will keep me there all night. Unless—”
She had an epiphany and poked her head out the doorway. Gabriel and Ada were both watching her expectantly.
“We need to get you a tuxedo,” she said to Gabriel.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“It’s perfect. The dinner is at the Lenox. You’ll be my escort; then I’ll pretend to fall ill and we’ll tell my parents that you’re driving me home.”
“Brilliant plan, except that there’s no way in hell that I’m—”
Corinne shut the door before he finished. Thirty seconds later Ada came in, still wrapped in her blanket. Corinne was on her knees by her cot, trying to see if the shoes her mother had provided were hiding in one of the shadowy corners.
“You know,” Ada said, shedding her blanket, “Gabriel doesn’t have to help us. He’s not getting paid or anything.”
“Is this the speech about how if I want to have a friend, I have to be a friend?” Corinne craned her neck to look at Ada, then sneezed when a cloud of dust fluttered past her nose.
“I thought it might be overdue.”
Ada was laying out her outfit on the bed—a ritual that always awed Corinne somewhat. When Corinne was getting dressed, it usually entailed digging through piles of clothes for a frock without any noticeable stains and rolling around the floor with stockings. There was often cursing involved.
“For your information, I have not insulted Gabriel in at least twelve hours,” Corinne said.
“In the past twelve hours, you’ve been in the same room with him for about one minute.”
“No one likes a know-it-all, Ada.”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”
Corinne considered throwing a pillow at her, but that seemed like too much work at this hour. It wasn’t exactly an insult anyway. Corinne enjoyed knowing it all. And she was already aware that most people didn’t like her. After a few more minutes of crawling around the room, tossing their belongings from one pile to another, she gave up her search for the shoes. If she sat on the cot and looked useless enough, Ada would find them for her.
Once she had dressed, Ada found the shoes without trouble and placed them neatly beside Corinne.
“This room isn’t much bigger than a closet,” Ada told her. “How have you managed to lose everything you’ve ever owned at least once?”
“But you always know where things are, so they aren’t really lost.”
With Ada’s help, she found the other pieces of the evening’s attire and assembled them on the bed in a somewhat orderly fashion. Then Corinne shed a few layers of clothes to make herself presentable for the day. When they rejoined Gabriel in the common room, he was still sitting in the armchair, which Corinne considered his tacit acceptance of the inevitable.
“You in?” Corinne asked, trying to sound friendly for Ada’s sake.
“You’re both impossible,” he said.