“I hope there’s a one-way ticket to Paris in that bag. I haven’t explored the Catacombs yet.”
“Not quite.” He pulls out a packet of blank cards. “Palm cards.”
I groan. “Luke, this isn’t helping.”
“It will. I promise.”
“How? Are you going to make me write tips like imagining everyone naked?”
“Absolutely not. That’s a terrible idea. You’ll be so distracted trying to conjure up images of all their lumpy bits, you’ll forget what you’re doing.”
“Not if I’ve seen them naked before.”
“What?”
“Like Dare Watson.” I bite a chunk out of my sandwich. “That’s an image I wish I could wipe from my memory.”
“You’ve seen Dare naked?”
“Sort of. Half. Just…” I circle my lower region. “His…you know.”
“What?”The sharp pitch of Luke’s tone forces my head to swivel. Narrowed blue eyes fix on me. “Explain, Elsie. When did you and Dare start sleeping—”
“Gross. No. Never.” I gulp down another bite of my sandwich. “I only saw half a hairy thigh and maybe a hint of his—”
“Don’t you dare say the wordpenis.”
I flutter my eyelashes. I was, indeed, about to say exactly that.
Luke puffs out a slow breath. “Now, tell me why.”
I raise an eyebrow. Why does he think I would see this?
“Why, Elsie?”
“Because I walked behind Cain’s garage looking for a hiding spot, and instead I found Dare receiving some rather enthusiastic fellatio from a woman who shall go unnamed.” Mostly because I don’t know her name… and possibly neither did he, if the stories are true.
Luke slaps both his hands over his face and drags them down. “God damn, your prim little mouth saying those very proper words.” When he turns, he’s grinning. “I should have learned my lesson by now.”
“Yes, you should have. Stop being distracted. Tell me how on earth your palm cards are going to help me.”
“We’re going to write down some details to help your confidence. Not everything. That doesn’t help. But we’ll jot down a couple of things you might not remember as easily when you’re stressed.” Luke grabs one of the Polaroids. “What’s this piece?”
“It’s a ring from the Georgian period.”
“Made out of…”
“Gold.”
He waves at me to keep going. He wants more details.
“I–I—” I fumble through my notes. “It’s, um… fifteen karat gold.”
Luke uncaps the marker and writes “15K” on the card. “What stones are these?”
“Well, these here”—I point at the Polaroid—“are natural split pearls, but there are also three rubies. It’s actually a beautifully intricate piece. If you look closely, you can see how the ring’s set to look like a flower…and here…” I run my fingertip along the band in the photo. “It resembles leaves.”
“And how much is it worth?”
