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This wasmuch better.
* * *
It was after dinner.
The men were out with football and all the dogs, alternately going in to do dishes (apparently, a deal was struck before we got there, and since my part of it was setting the table, and clearing it, I was done, so it worked for me).
The women were sitting around Scott and Louise’s patio table by the pool, drinking cocktails and gabbing.
Dream had left shortly after we ate (and as far as I could tell, did nothing to help, and again…whatever).
Luna had been in the room with me, draped over a chair with a cat lying on the back, until she made the herculean effort to get up because she had to go to the bathroom (the cat, as they were wont to do, went with her).
I was flat out on Scott and Louise’s couch, covered in what seemed like all the rest of the cats, nursing my food coma and trying to rally because I wanted a cocktail, when Luna called, “Babe?”
I looked her way.
She held up the burner.
I looked from the phone to her.
Then I dislodged the felines as I rolled off the couch, and due to my body still coping with the food coma, nearly landed on my hands and knees (told you the effort was herculean). But I was able to right myself, and I walked her way.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Missed call. But, Raye, I recognized the number. It was from Harlow.”
My head jerked, and I asked, “On the burner?”
“Yeah.”
“She leave a voicemail?”
“No.”
“Is something up with her?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think so.”
I went to my purse to get my phone to call Harlow.
As I did, Luna’s burner binged.
I stopped and looked back.
Luna was reading the text.
I returned to her. “What’s it say?”
“It says…” Her eyes came to me, and they were sparkling. “‘The wonders of the Avenging Angels, unite.”
A thrill raced through me.
Another bing came from the phone.
Luna read it out, “‘Tomorrow. Eight. My pad. Over and out.’”
“Over and out?” I asked on a giggle I couldn’t stop from bubbling up and out of me.
