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Okay, so maybe someone had died.
“Rache?” Mason covered my hand— the one that was holding the glass a few inches from my nose while I blinked at its remaining contents. There were only ice cubes and a swizzle stick with a seashell on top.
I set the glass down, took a deep breath. “Good. I’m good."
“I wonder why Christy is performing as a mermaid?” Mason asked.
I focused on our food as a distraction from the knot of worry in my stomach and used a celery stalk to scoop up some spinach and avocado dip. Maybe eating would settle the queasiness in my stomach. “Taking Misty’s place,” I said.
“How do you know that?”
“Did her see her in there? Compared to the others? It was obviously her first time.”
“Gee, thanks, Aunt Rache.”
I looked up with a dip-dripping celery stalk halfway to my lips. There was my Christy, still wearing the ridiculous blonde wig, wet and twisted into a knot at the back of her head. She was a short-and-sassy brunette these days. She’d washed off the dramatic mermaid makeup and reapplied her usual dark shadow and not much else. Her elfin face had lost its teenage plumpness. The exquisite bone structure showed through now. She was a grown-ass woman. When the hell had it happened?
Shirtless returned with a chair, placing it at the open end, with its back toward the once-again closed stage curtains. I noticed the way his skin shimmered in the light this time. Now that I wasn’t looking for signs of a strip-joint, it was obvious the wait staff were merfolk, too. Demi-merfolk, maybe. After all, you couldn’t wait tables with a tail.
“Hey, Misty,” Shirtless said. Then more softly, “You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she asked. Then she bit her lip, made her voice a half octave higher and way kinder, and added, “Of course I’m okay. I mean… I pulled a muscle practicing, I think.”
“Ohhh, that explains it.” But he was looking at her face and frowning a little harder.
“Malcolm, how ‘bout that refill?” I tapped my empty glass. It had the desired effect. He stopped looking at my niece and looked at me instead.
“Sorry, Ma’am. I uh— I’ll be right back.”
“See you later, Malcolm,” Christy said in the most Misty way she could. She’d added a cheerful lilt that would’ve fooled her own mother on the phone. Wouldn’t have fooled me.
Christy reached for the appetizer tray, and I put my hand over of hers. “First, talk. Where is your sister?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled her hand away, then used the serving fork to stab several appetizers at once and shook them onto her plate. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants to take off for a weekend, why do you care?”
“I’m here. You know me well enough to know that I have a reason to be here. Talk.”
Christy sent a look to Mason as if in search of support. He said, “Don’t you think, Christy, that if Rachel is worried, you should be worried too?”
That seemed to get her off her high horse. She frowned, making little creases between her brows.
“Where is your sister?” I said, gesturing with my unbitten celery stalk. “Why is she working here and keeping it secret? Why are you taking her place and not telling anyone? What the ever-loving fuck is going on?”
Christy closed her eyes, took a breath, and pressed her palms to the table on either side of her plate. “Okay, okay. Misty asked me to cover for her for the weekend and not to tell anyone. And let me tell you something, I am a saint to do it, because it’s way harder than it looks, and I can’t hold my breath that long.”
“Yeah, you’re sister of the year,” I said, then emphasizing each word, “Where is she?”
“I told you, I don’t know.” She lowered her eyes. I swear to God, I wanted to shake her. “Look, I mean it,” she rushed on. "I don’t know where she is. She said not to ask questions, that she’d tell me when she was ready, but that it was important to her. One of the most important things ever, she said. But… I got the feeling,” her gaze slid Mason’s way, “she’s with a guy.”
“A guy?” Mason asked. “As in, a not-Jeremy guy?”
“Jeremy says they’re on a break,” I reminded him. And Christy didn’t seem surprised. She’d known, then. “He said that was her decision, not his, so as unlikely as it seems, another guy would track.” I nodded at Christy. “What else did she say?”
“Nothing, she wouldn’t say where she was going, just that she’d be back Monday morning.”
“What else did she say?” I asked again, saying the words slower this time so she would know I wanted it word for word.
She closed her eyes in that slow way that meant, “You are really pissing me off” without a word. I knew that look. Hell, I invented that look. “She said she had to pack, that they were leaving soon.”
