“Have you finished your drink, Ward?” Luna asked abruptly. “Only, it’s getting late, you know.”
Ward looked down at her, brow crinkling. “Now don’t be like that, Luna. I won’t let your boss spoil your fun, I promise! He’s quite busy anyway from the looks of things. Hasn’t even noticed we’re here.” His hand squeezed her shoulder slightly. Luna resisted the urge to shrug it off. “Our food’ll be up soon. You’ll feel better once you’ve got a bite in you.”
Yeah, except there was no way she could stomach a bite of anything.
Bryony finished her song, and two stout-looking fellows lifted her down from the bar, all to much tremendous applause. Her roommate was certainly in the right vocation, Luna had to give her that. She knew just how to put on a show. Her voice was fair, her dancing good, but it was really the Byrony-ness of it all that carried the performance.
Luna took another gulp of cider. She suddenly found herself wishing she’d ordered the hard stuff. “Let me try that,” she said and snatched Ward’s glass, taking a long pull. Ugh! It burneddown her throat. What was even the point of cider if you couldn’t taste apple through the alcohol? She never would understand the appeal, but . . . she took a second gulp, then a third, choking them down.
“Steady on,” Ward said, his voice concerned. “Let’s maybe get a little food in you first, all right?”
It was just then that Bryony’s voice carried across the jazzy din:“Lunaloo!”
Luna flicked a brief glance and caught sight of her roommate waving. She stared down at her own hands, folded in front of her on the table.
“We’ve been spotted.” Ward’s fingers tightened around her shoulder, but he raised his other arm and beckoned. “I suppose we might as well have a drink with them, right?”
“Oh, no, do we have to? I’d—” Luna swallowed her words. They wouldn’t have done any good in any case, because the band started up again just then with a roll of drums and a blast of horns. Luna grimaced. The yawning maw of fate opened wide, ready to receive her. She had no choice but to succumb to it.
Gritting her teeth, Luna drew her lips back in her best facsimile of a smile and lifted her gaze just as Bryony and her date drew up to the table. Bryony carried two pints in each hand with practiced expertise. “Hey ho, daddio, how’s tricks?” she cooed through red lips. “I’ve got me earnings for tonight’s little song, and more to come after this. Thought I’d treat me roomie.”
Luna beamed back for all she was worth and absolutely refused to look at anything or anyone else in the vicinity. “Isoenjoyed your performance, Bryony!” she declared.
“Yes, we all did,” Ward added with a low chuckle.
Bryony tossed her curls and plunked the glasses down on the table. “You know that number, don’t you, Lunaloo?” she said with a saucy wink. “It’s your old standard.”
“What’s this?” Ward turned a look of too-keen interest from Bryony to Luna and back again. “What am I missing?”
Luna could feel her cheeks blushing twelve shades of crimson. “Oh, it’s nothing, um . . . just a little joke . . .”
“You should’veseenher!” Bryony pinched her date’s elbow. “Go on, Grimmsy, slide in there.”
She turned then to regale Ward with the story of Luna’s ill-fated turn as a showgirl, eliciting much guffawing and knee-slapping and general joviality, only Luna didn’t hear a single word of it. Because suddenly Mr. Grimm was there. Right there, beside her. With his stupid marigold and his stupid floppy hair, and such aninfluxof sandalwood and cinnamon, and the sleeve of his black suit just barely grazing her arm.
Luna couldn’t bear to look at him. She couldn’t look at Ward or Bryony either. So she stared down into the mug of something which Bryony had pushed toward her. Somethingnotalcohol-free. Suddenly, she picked it up with both hands and took several swallows. It was foul, but it went down, splashing into her gut to churn along with the hard cider from Ward’s glass. She had a sinking suspicion she was going to regret oh, so many things about tonight!
Abruptly, Mr. Grimm leaned toward her. His mouth dropped close to her ear, and she caught a little shivering breath and half-turned to him. Her nose bumped his, and she faced forward again quickly. “What was that?” she stammered, because though he’d spoken, she hadn’t heard what he said over the throbbing of her heart.
“I thought you were going to stay and clean the shop,” he spoke again, his voice low, a little husky.
Luna gulped. What a drat-blasted liar he must think her! She’d told him she wasn’t seeing Ward tonight, and here she was, proving the falsehood of her own words, all while shirking her responsibilities. The burning spirits swam in her gut.
“I, um, finished early,” she said, turning toward him again. He wasn’tasclose anymore, but his head was still inclined toward her, his face lit-up by the candle’s glow, and . . . oh Green Mother. He was so fresh and clean-shaven and groomed, and she was still such a bedraggled mess, despite the stolen hair tonic. She could feel every single wrinkle in her blouse and skirt, in her stockings, and she’d left her wet slip somewhere out in Garden. Somehow it felt not-quite-decent to be out in public without it, despite how her blouse was buttoned all the way to the throat.
Mr. Grimm leaned in to her again, his nose bumping against her ear before he withdrew slightly. “I’m glad,” he said, his voice just audible over the band’s wild rhythms.
“You are?” Luna blinked up at him. Their faces were no more than a few inches apart, andgods, but was it hot in here? She could feel perspiration forming on her upper lip.
“Yes,” he answered. Candlelight flickered in the depths of his sad blue eyes as he peered at her from beneath his lowered brow. “I didn’t like to think of you working away all evening. Alone.” He swallowed and nodded, as though convincing himself. “It’s good to see you out. Having a nice time. You . . . youarehaving a nice time, aren’t you?”
“Oh, sure.” Luna picked up her drink from Bryony again. “Just peachy.”
She took another large swig.
The music shifted again, resolving one song and blending seamlessly into the familiar strains of “Don’t Care Tonight.” Bryony responded at once, sitting up a little straighter and slapping her palms to the tabletop. “This song is the bee’s knees!” she declared and took hold of Mr. Grimm’s hand, shimmying her way out of the booth and dragging him with her. “Come on, Grimmsy! Take a gulp of that beer, then you’ve got some dancing to do!”
Mr. Grimm flashed a glance Luna’s way. Obedient to his date’s injunction, however, he took a large swig from his glass. Which surprised Luna. She couldn’t say why, but all this time she’d gotten the distinct impression that Mr. Grimm was a teetotaler. Not that it mattered or was any of her business, but . . . She frowned, a little seed of worry planted among the other roiling feelings in her gut.
