I rolled my eyes, because, really, who else could I be referring to? “The stray woman I found in our shower in Chicago...in the hotel,” I added when he continued to stare at me as if he had no clue what I was talking about.
Finally, he licked a crumb off his top lip and slowly responded. “And she was…at the Granada? Tonight?” When I nodded, he squinted. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely one hundred percent positively sure,” I answered. “It was her, same purple streaks in her hair and everything.”
“That’s...that’s...” He shook his head and sent me a sly smile. “That’s actually a little hard to believe, man. I mean, the same exact girl was in Chicago and here in Ellamore?”
He had a point. The idea was a little out there. I chewed on my bottom lip, certain it had been her, but doubting myself nonetheless. “You don’t think I’m going crazy, do you?” I finally asked. “I mean, not enough sex, jerking off too much lately… What if it’s making me delusional? Oh shit.” I sat back in my booth, stunned. “What if there wasn’t even a girl in our shower? What if she doesn’t exist, and this little obsession turns out worse than that thing I had for Incubus shirt girl, and I end up drooling and rocking in some corner because I’ve lost my damn mind?”
“Uh...” Clearly at a loss for words, Remy moved his mouth a few times but couldn’t come up with anything to say.
“Never mind,” I told him, letting him know he didn’t need to say anything. “You’re probably right. It couldn’t have been the same girl. I probably just wanted it to be her because there was, you know, so much chemistry there when I saw her in Chicago.”
“Chemistry?” Remy lifted his eyebrows in interest. “Oh really? Do tell.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Shut up, fucker. I’d rather talk about your infatuations than mine.”
Murmuring out a sound of pity, he tipped his head to the side. “Ah, but we already know who my current infatuation is, don’t we?”
I gulped, remembering I was. Shit. I hadn’t meant to go down that road again. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he swished out his hand.
“Besides, that’s old news. Let’s get back to you. This shower girl. Be honest. More or less chemistry than what you felt for Incubus shirt girl?”
I opened my mouth, stunned when I realized I didn’t know the answer to that. “I’m not sure,” I spoke honestly. “Strange. Both encounters were just...different, but probably held the same intensity. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of,” he murmured, “not really.”
“You know,” I spoke over him, frowning in thought. “Now that you mention Incubus shirt girl, the two of them did have a lot of similarities. Same basic figure, long dark hair, that certain Latino look. Too bad I never got a good up-close glimpse of Incubus shirt girl’s face.”
Remy slapped his hand on the top of the table as if an idea had just struck. “Maybe they’re the same girl.”
I snorted. “Right...because she just happened to show up at Forbidden, the Granada and in Chicago all on the same nights I was there. That’s totally possible. Sure.” Then I rolled my eyes.
“It’s...slightly possible,” Remy hedged.
I smiled and shook my head. “Yeah, and mix those two in with punk rocker chick, and we’ll have my dream woman...right there. Boom.”
Straightening, Remy said, “Punk rocker chick. Who’s punk rocker chick?”
Damn. There went my mouth. “No one. Just...some girl who auditioned for your drummer position the day before you did.”
Remy brought his hand up to his chin. “I thought only one girl had...had auditioned for that.”
“Yeah...and she dressed in this punk look with a spikey white Tina Turner wig, and I just had this brief little kinky vision of ripping it off and...” When I realized where I was going with my confession, I stopped cold and lifted a hand. “You know, I’m going to stop right there, stop thinking about sex, stop talking about sex, and women, and just...all that shit. Let’s go to my place and slaughter some futuristic zombies. What do you say?”
Remy opened his mouth and then shook his head. “No sé; it’s late. And some of us don’t have insomnia. I’m one of those rare breeds who needs more than two hours of sleep a night, so...yeah. I’m going to head home and crash.”
Disappointment hit me hard. I didn’t want to go home alone. But I nodded and forced a smile. “Fine then, loser. I’m going home to practice so I can finally kick your ass the next time we play.”
He snorted. “Dream on, fucker. You should just face the facts. You’ll never beat me, because I am...a legend.”
When I made it home from the diner with Remy, I felt lonelier than usual. I let Mozart out of his cage to play, so he ran and hid under the bed and was lousy company. I ended up practicing the lyrics of my new song as I cleaned out his cage.
I finally dropped off to sleep around five in the morning, and Pick called at eight.
“Hey, I got another house to check out this morning. You coming?”