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“OK, but did you have to buy it on DVD?” Gigi chuckled.
“It was a Christmas gift. Uncle Clark grabs the DVD with the silliest cover and wraps it,” I shot back, climbing into the driver’s seat of the Dorkmobile. “I am willing to admit that Gerard Butler has single-handedly murdered the romantic comedy.”
Gigi snickered. “Gerard Butler took the romantic comedy to an orgy, accidentally strangled it during an air game, panicked, and dumped its body in the woods.”
I stared at her, gobsmacked. “That may be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard—” I spluttered. “How the hell do you even know what an air game is?”
Gigi preened. “Just because you put the parental locks on HBO doesn’t mean I can’t get around them.”
—
Gigi and I attended a showing of the Bollywood version of Pride and Prejudice at the Palladium. The once-great theater had fallen into disrepair over the years, becoming the local “throwback dollar movie” theater during the last decade. At Jane’s suggestion, Gabriel had bought the theater, refurbished it to its former glory, and turned it into a “nostalgia house” showing old black-and-white movies, eighties classics, and the like. Every Thursday was Jane Austen Night, to honor Jane’s fetish for all things Bennet and Darcy.
Having expected to see something loud and stupid at the multiplex, Gigi was not pleased with this turn of events.
“Why didn’t you ask Miss Jane to come with you?” Gigi asked as I bought tickets for Bride & Prejudice.
“Jane won’t do movies with me anymore. I went to her house for Sense and Sensibility night. And when I pointed out, quite rightly, that Marianne was a twit and Colonel Brandon would have been better off marrying Elinor, Jane turned gray and started yelling.”
“There better not be subtitles,” Gigi groused, leading me to the candy counter, where I was already eyeing a box of Goobers in the display case.
There were very few subtitles. The movie was a nice blend of Hollywood glamour and Bollywood flair, with just enough snarky humor. Gigi even giggled a few times. I relaxed back into my seat, pushing aside for a moment money problems, Cal, mortal peril.
I forgot sometimes what it was like just to be lazy. Not to run, run, run, checking through the list of things that had to be accomplished that day or the sky would fall down around my ears.
I was content to sit there with my large popcorn, soaking up the revamped romanticism, but Gigi was up every twenty minutes to go to the bathroom. After the third trip, I started worrying about her kidneys. When she bounced out of her seat during Darcy’s disastrous proposal, I waited a minute and followed her out to the lobby.
Unfortunately, the other movie had just let out, and a crowd flooded the lobby. Apparently, a lot of people wanted to Sense and Sensibility that night. I searched the flow of faces, looking for Gigi. I turned the corner around the concession stand and saw Mr. Dodd leaning against the wall, scanning the crowd. Dropping my popcorn, I ducked into the crowded ladies’ room. There was a line, of course, and I subtly glanced under the stall doors for Gigi’s turquoise striped sneakers.
“Gigi?” I hissed.
No response, other than concerned or irritated looks from the other ladies in the bathroom.
“Gigi Scanlon, if you’re in here and ignoring me while I make a jackass out of myself, I am going to be very pissed.”
Other than a few feminine snickers … nothing.
I stuck my head out through the door and checked for Mr. Dodd. I didn’t see him, but I did see my sister, ducking in from an exterior door, looking all flushed and happy. She was tucking her phone into her pocket and looking around the lobby. She turned her back to me while peeking down the corridor. I snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder, all the while watching out for Mr. Dodd.
“I know exactly what you’re up to, sister.”
She shrieked and whirled on me. “Iris, I—I’m so sorry!”
“I see how you are, skipping out on valuable sisterly bonding time to secretly text Ben.” I scowled at her. “You’d rather exchange xoxo’s with your supercute boyfriend than watch a girlie movie with me.”
“No one xoxo’s.” She laughed, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry, Iris. It’s nothing personal. But the ‘Snake Dance’ sequence was just too much for me.”
“It’s—” I turned to see Mr. Dodd across the lobby. A cold, watery sensation seeped through my chest, surging to an all-out tidal wave when the crowd parted enough to let me see the long, lean frame of Peter Crown stepping from behind Mr. Dodd. Mr. Crown whispered furiously to Mr. Dodd, who was pointing in our direction. Crown turned, his steely eyes locking with mine. He mouthed something along the lines of “Get them out to the car.”
I grabbed Gigi’s arm. “It’s fine. We’re leaving.”
“Because I took too many trips to text?”
I looked over my shoulder as a steady stream of people moved between us and the vampires, preventing them from inconspicuously crossing the lobby. I did, however, hear Mr. Dodd growling, “Get out of my way!” as he tried to move through the clumped concession line.>Gigi, who was used to casual contact with Cal now, shrugged. “I’ve always said so.”
Cal pulled open his laptop and opened a Web site I didn’t recognize. He tried a reverse lookup of the PO box by number, but it came back as “private.” He bolted out of the room and came back with his jacket and Gigi’s keys. “I need to borrow your car, Gigi.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”
