And I left my knitting supplies at home.
“Hard to say. I have so many options.” Lies. I had one option: be a loner. Deckard’s worry crinkled his brows. “I have big plans.”
I waited for an invite all day to anything, but nothing ever came, and now even Deckard was busy. I rubbed my palms on my jeans. It was fine. I had work early tomorrow anyway. It was just another day …
“Are you sure?” He was watching me intently again with his hypnotic heterochromia stare. He knew the power of that look. The door jingled with a new arrival. Saved by the bell.
In walked Cass, Deckard’s current lady friend. She was a pretty brunette with a kind smile who worked at the hospital in the town over. She was a year older than us in school, and last year, I gave her a ride to work after her car broke down.
They greeted each other with that awkward hug thing people who weren’t quite a couple did.
Then she noticed the third person standing there.
She extended her hand to me. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet.”
We chatted three times last week. I shot Deckard a subtle look. Deckard refused to admit that the rest of the town could not see/remember me. He always told me that if I showed people who I was, they would love me. But I would have to be seen first.
I began to doubt his ability to even discern paranormal entities.
Deckard laughed. “Very funny. Imagine you just forgot she had lunch with us last week.”
I waved at her with a flat smile. Even as she looked right at me, I could see her already Ctrl+Alt+D me from her brain to save room for more important things.
Cass laughed awkwardly. “Right. Of course. Nice seeing you again.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and thumbed to the door. “Ready to eat?”
Deckard gathered his things and shrugged into his coat.
“Yeah. See ya, Bee. Happy New Year.” We were too good of friends to hug, so we just waved.
“Happy New Year, Deckard.”
He left without a glance backward. I stood at the door a moment too long, staring out the window past downtown. The setting sun cast a pinkish hue on the white peaks of the mountains surrounding our town. The one and only aerial tram slowly made its way up the side of The Slope, our only ski hill. Iwatched it creep its way up, a tiny dot, and wondered about the people in there now and their plans for the night.
“You can flip the sign to closed, Bee. I gotta start getting ready for the party,” my boss said.
I startled and turned to see her all decked out in what looked to be a 1920s beaded flapper gown. Mel lived in New York most of her life, making a living as a chorus girl for a ton of Broadway shows. She retired to Slippery Slopes ten years ago to open a cat café after a “life-changing” trip to Japan. Mel always spoke like a news reporter and rocked a lot of boas. She pulled it off.
“Sure. Ready for what?” I asked and flipped the sign. “You look great.”
“Thanks, Bee.” She spun and then did a little Charleston kick. “The party tonight.” My blank look led her to add, “‘The Shake YourBroadwayinto the New Year’ musical-themed costume party I’m having here tonight.”
“Tonight?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s why we’re closed tomorrow.”
“We’re closed tomorrow?”
“Yes.” She cocked a hip and rested her fist on it. “I swore I told you.” She pursed her lips in concentration, the beads on her gown making an appealing clicking sound in the silence. “Remember that online vlogger lady from Cozy Creek, Colorado, is coming? I want the café to get a mention in whatever her next story is. It’ll be a boon for the business.”
My ears began to ring, and I felt like I needed to sit down. My own boss forgot to tell me about a party at my job? I’m her only full-time employee.
What was it about me that made me so forgettable to everyone in this town?
I plastered a smile on my face. “Oh. Is there any help you need or anything?” I looked around the café, still full of cats and no party decor. “I have a few minutes to spare.”
“You’re a doll, but no thanks. I have the gals coming over to help. You go party it up with the rest of the young ones,” she said.
“Yep. Okay, cool. I have loads of things to do.”
