“Dammit,” Pan mutters, but holds still when she aims it at his face to unlock it.
“Thankyou.” Treasure taps something open, walks back a few steps, and hands the phone to Wendy. “Here, honey. I’ve got Valu-Mart up for you here. You go ahead and order whatever you need to be comfortable over with the boys, okay? Clothes, toothbrush, some doggie chow for your puppy…”
Wendy sets down a chicken tender, a little suspicious. “Really?”
“Really.” Treasure pats the counter once and swivels back to us, stepping just out of Wendy’s earshot. “Fourth, as soon as that kid’s done eating, I want you out of my club.”
Pan’s face falls. “Aw, Trez, come?—”
“Out,” Treasure says again. “My bar, my rules. You do not drink enough or tip well enough for me to spend this much time with you on a Friday night, and now you’ve got this kid besides. Anyway, your scrawny ass is no match for my bouncer and you know it.”
Fox lifts his now-full beer. “She’s right, man. Even I wouldn’t mess with that guy.”
Pan scowls, but concedes the point. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Soon as she’s done, we’ll leave.”
“ThankGod,” Kit murmurs, darting a glance back at the club—at, I realize, Pearl, the Mermaid who was in the shop the other day. He hunches over a little, like he’s trying to avoid her noticing him.
“Good.” Treasure nods. “And make sure”—she looks at Pan, reconsiders, then looks at me—”youmake sure that kid is comfortable and not sleeping on the floor with a sack of White Monster cans as a pillow.” She wrinkles her nose. “Last thing we need is a sweet girl like that turning into one ofyou.”
CHAPTER 14
TINK
When we get backto the shop, the front stoop is crowded with blue nylon delivery bags, some toppling over the step, others stretched full with boxes. The distinctive Valu-Mart bright yellow checkmark is on the side of each damn one.
Pan whistles. “Damn, you buy up the whole store, kid?”
Next to me, Wendy folds her arms and kicks at the ground. “Shesaid I could.”
For a split second, my heart stops. Then I remember.
Treasure. Treasure said she could.
That’s right. It’s fine.
“It’s fine,” I say out loud, to Wendy. “Let’s bring them in.”
And we do: Fox shouldering three bags per shoulder, plus putting the box in his arms. Pan grabbing a few with Kit, and Wendy insisting on snatching one herself—one of the emptier ones, clicking and clacking with what sounds like little bottles.
“Well, I am beat,” Pan announces as we clomp into the dark first floor of the shop. No lights are on except for the uplighting on the logo. Usually it feels calm, even a little cozy. Right now though, right now all I can think about is how it looks to Wendy.
A scared kid. A little girl.
“Where are we sticking all of this?” he asks no one in particular.
From up on the loft level, I hear the click-click of toenails.
“I’m taking the dog food upstairs,” Fox says. “since that’s where the dog is.” Without waiting for the rest of us, he mounts the spiral stairs, keeping his balance surprisingly well despite the giant bag of kibble.
Kit shrugs and follows after, and so too does Pan, literally going with the flow like he usually does.
Wendy, though, just looks at me.
I don’t want to be in charge of her, but the only thing I want less than that is for any of the others to be in charge of her, so…
“Yeah.” I nod her on. “Let’s go.”
Up on the loft, the other three drop the bags wherever there is space, on any flat surface they can find. Fox sets the kibble down so it’s leaning against the bar cabinet, to the absolute delight of Nana, who starts turning in circles and whipping her skinny tail back and forth through the air.
