He said it straight-faced; that was the wonderful, wicked thing about Michael—he could deliver the most outrageous lines with utmost sincerity. It left me wondering if I was the only one with my mind in the gutter . . . until I spotted the amusement in his clear blue eyes.
“I’ll bet,” I breathed. “Meet you there at one o’clock, okay?”
“Not twelve?”
“I came in late.”
“Ah. I’ll keep myself occupied.”
“Hey!”
He gave me the full, devastating smile, and leaned across the counter to kiss me. His lips were cool and sweet and softer than they had any right to be, but he was gone before I could really savor it.
He’d left $4.50 on the counter—his way of saying that I should have a drink myself. Which I did, making it extra sweet and extra strong, like him.
It was only as I was sipping the drink that I realized Gloriana was staring at the door through which Michael had gone. She finally leaned over and pecked Oliver on both cheeks in a European sort of farewell, and took her cup of O to go . . . following Michael.
I didn’t like that.
At all.
? ? ?
One o’clock crawled slowly toward me, to the point where I checked the coffee shop’s clock against my cell phone and my watch, just to be sure. When the hand finally dragged itself to twelve forty-five, I stripped off my apron and chirped to Oliver, “Lunch!”
“Don’t you have time to make up?” he asked, not looking away from the cash he was counting for the bank bag.
“Yeah, I’ll stay late.”
“I’d rather you worked through lunch.”
“Sorry, slavery’s gone out of fashion,” I said, and hung up my apron on the old coat-tree at the end of the counter. “Gotta run.”
He grunted and waved his hand. I retrieved my purse from the locker and dashed out.
It wasn’t a long walk home, but it was unexpectedly chilly; rain clouds were rolling in, dark and ominous, and the wind had kicked up. It blew sand and broken bits of grass across the roads, rippled the leaves on the trees, and generally made walking less fun than usual. I was happy to turn down Lot Street and see my big, shiny black hearse parked at the curb. Death’s party bus. Holla.
I couldn’t wait, and broke into a jog up the walk, up the steps, across the porch, and unlocked the front door as fast as I could. Yes! I slammed the door and threw my stuff on the hall table; Michael’s keys were already there, in the candy dish. My heartbeat sped up even faster. “Let’s get the party started!” I called, and walked down the narrow hallway toward the living room.
On the way there, I passed the formal parlor room, which was basically a furniture museum; we never sat in there. Except this time I registered people in there as I passed. I stopped, backed up, and found Michael sitting in the big red velvet wing chair.
Gloriana was sitting on the settee, her to-go cup on the marble coffee table. She had her legs crossed, and seemed very comfortable.
In my house.
With my boyfriend.
“Michael?” I asked. He stood up, looking guilty and nervous, which was new for him. “What’s going on?”
“Uh . . . this is Gloriana.”
“I know who she is. I told you who she was.”
“Eve,” Gloriana said, all warmth and sweetness and apology. “I only wanted to meet Michael, as he’s Amelie’s newest child. I am a curious creature, I know. I mean nothing by it.”
“Eve, chill,” Michael said. “She just came over to say hello.”
“I see.” My voice sounded flat and pissed, even to my own ears. “That’s great. Now she can just say good-bye, too.”
“I meant no offense, most surely. Here, I’ll be going.” Gloriana stood up and extended her hand to Michael, knuckles turned up. “It was charming to meet you, Michael Glass.”
He took her hand and looked briefly confused about what to do, then lifted it very formally to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Not kissed kissed, more of a brush of his lips, but it still made me feel light-headed and sick inside. “Welcome to Morganville,” he said. “Hope to see you around.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Gloriana laughed. “After all, the sign says You’ll never want to leave—isn’t that true? I already find much to like about Morganville.” She flicked those green eyes toward me. “Eve. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Yeah. Don’t forget to take your blood with you.”
Michael gave me a look. I gave him one right back. While we were doing the silent stare thing, Gloriana retrieved her cup and headed for the door. Michael moved past me to open it for her, and handed her a big, floppy black coat and hat to throw on. “There’s an entrance to the underground a block down,” he said. “Look for the glyph. You can bring the coat and hat back later.”
“Thank you,” she said, and swaddled herself up in the sun-defying garb. She looked like a waif playing dress-up. “You are so kind, Michael.” She pronounced it French, like Meeshell. “I will return the kindness soon.”