“Arthur and Rory appear to have stopped talking,” Wesley said.
Sebastian glanced at the closed gold door. “Rory was still changing when I left.”
Wesley’s eyebrow went up. “Meaning Arthur walked in there in a high fit of emotion and found Brodigan naked, and now they’ve gone silent?”
Sebastian’s and Wesley’s eyes met.
“Leaving now,” Wesley said, hastily pulling away, just as Sebastian said “Vámonos” and scrambled off the wall, and the two of them made for the door out to the speakeasy.
Chapter Three
Since the night in Tarrytown, Sebastian and Wesley had spent most of their evenings at the Magnolia, a welcoming space with drinks, dancing, and world-class music that had quickly become one of Sebastian’s favorite places in New York. He followed Wesley now through the main club, weaving around tightly packed round tables and skirting the edge of the dance floor. Stella wasn’t onstage yet—probably waiting to get into her dressing room—but the piano player was entertaining the early arrivals. One brave couple was doing the Charleston, and judging from the tapping toes, they wouldn’t be the only dancers for long.
Jade was at the bar, looking very pretty perched on a stool in her man’s suit and fedora, long legs crossed and one high heel dangling from her foot. She was sipping what appeared to be ginger ale and talking to the bartender, but turned as they approached.
“There are you two, at least.” Jade tilted her head. “Where are Arthur and Rory?”
“They, um,” Sebastian started awkwardly, “they need a minute.”
Wesley, eying the top-shelf liquors, added, “Our mis-adventureson the Hudson triggered Arthur’s mother bear streak and now he’s reading Brodigan the riot act.”
Jade groaned. “In my sister’sdressing room?” she said, in a tone that suggested she knew exactly what that implied. She sighed. “All right, well, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Sebastian, did the tailcoat not fit? I’m usually quite decent at estimating size.”
“Yes, Sebastian, whyareyou half-dressed?” Wesley said dryly. “Do tell.”
“I thought I might dance.” Sebastian shrugged innocently. “It is Latin night, yes?”
“Well, in that case,” Jade said, with a glance at Wesley, “I suspect he’ll have no trouble filling his dance card.”
“I’m bloody certain of it,” Wesley said, even more dryly. “And as you might surmise, I could use a very stiff drink.”
Jade grinned. “We’ve got French cognac from Quebec. Mack does a very good sidecar, I’m told, and Arthur has an open tab.”
“Excellent,” Wesley said. “Except let’s move it all to my tab.”
“That’s nice of you,” Sebastian said.
“Hardly,” said Wesley. “Arthur always wants to be the one seeing to everyone. It will drive his overprotective little heart mad if I foot tonight’s bill instead.” He tilted his head, gaze on Sebastian. “And for you?”
Alcohol made paranormals lose control of their magic. Only weeks ago, Sebastian had been a paranormal and would never have even considered drinking in a full speakeasy, on the chance his magic sent everyone to the floor. Now, he didn’t have magic—and yet, the past weeks, he’d continued to stick to soda. Maybethe new Sebastian still didn’t drink; plenty of people didn’t, with or without Prohibition, and that was a perfectly valid choice.
Or maybe he was clinging to an echo of old Sebastian because he didn’t know how to navigate the world as the new person he’d become.
“Just a soda,” Sebastian said, pushing his thoughts away. “Cola.”
If Wesley had noticed Sebastian’s complicated feelings—and it was Wesley, he noticed almost everything—he’d never commented or pressured. And now, Wesley simply nodded and turned to the bartender.
They got their drinks and made their way to a table at the perimeter of the speakeasy, where Zhang and finally Arthur and Rory joined them. The club was rapidly filling up, forcing the six of them to squash together in a semicircle around one small table along the wall. There were only four chairs, so Jade took a seat on Zhang’s knee, his arm slipping around her waist.
“Seb, here.” Rory shifted to the edge of his chair. “You’re probably lighter than the high hats, so you and me can share.”
“The perks of being pint-size, I suppose, not that I would know,” Wesley said, which made Rory’s eyes narrow. “Though I don’t see why Sebastian ought to share with you instead of me.”
“Because,” said Rory, “I wasn’t sure you could sit at all with that giant stick up your—”
“Thank you, Rory, I appreciate it,” Sebastian said hurriedly, and squeezed in next to him as Wesley took the last vacant chair with a huff.
Arthur leaned in, addressing Jade. “What is this about Alasdair at the hospital?” he said, and Sebastianhad to awkwardly shift his legs to the side as Arthur’s hand came to rest protectively on Rory’s knee under the table. “Rory said he’s dead and you suspectmurder?”
