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Zee pointed a finger, and at the same time his tail swished the little bowl of lollipops off the counter, sending it and its contents scattering across the floor, startling a few fake trolls and one tall fae lookalike. A few yelps sounded, then some nervous laughter.
“Oh fuck, look at that!” Zee pulled a sheepish face then leaned over to collect the lollipops, but as he did his tail caught a display of leaflets, sending them flying like confetti. “These darn costumes . . . you know what it’s like. Well, you don’t . . . You ever role-played, Larry? Eh, probably not. Maybe you should. Help relax you. You seem pretty uptight. I can give you some tips?”
“Sir—”
“I got this.”
A few of the guests had joined in helping to pick up the leaflets and lollipops.
A huge potted plant went next, tipped right over, spilling soil on top of the leaflets. Zee yelped at that one. “Fuck, you really need to tie shit down. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Sir, control your extremities!” Larimer blustered.
“Excuse-moi?” Zee straightened. “What did you just call me?” His voice had switched into level-eleven dramatically offended mode. “Extreme titties? That is sexual harassment.”
Larimer’s pale face reddened, and finally he stepped out from behind the desk.
That was my cue. I ambled in front of the desk, hands in pockets, minding my own business, and when I was past all the commotion, I ducked behind the desk, grabbed the phone, and quickly dialed the SOS Hotel.
Madame Matase answered in her lovely, polite, Eastern European accented voice.
“It’s Adam.”
“Oh Adam, darling! How are you? We have missed you, dear. How’s your vacation?”
“Oh yeah, it’s uhm . . .” Dead werewolves, Zander’s burned cabin, bloodthirsty loup-garou, amputated limbs, running for our lives . . . “Great. So great. Uhm . . . super great. Is Tom there?”
“I can patch you through to the bar. My darling, I do hope you’ll be back soon. We miss you.”
“We will be, I just . . . Soon.”
“Is that Zodiac I hear?”
I peeked over the desk to see Zee waving his arms and threatening legal action, claiming that Victor—now beside him—was his lawyer. “Yes, he’s having a great time too!” I told Madame Matase. I’m not sure she believed me.
“Transferring you now, darling.”
A blip sounded, the phone rang once, and Tom Collins picked up. “Welcome to the best bar in San Francisco—”
“Tom, we need your help.”
Tom gasped. “Adam Vex needs my help? Now?”
“Yes, right now, can you—”
The line died.
Cradling the handset, I redialed. “Hey, Madame Matase, I seem to have been cut off. Gremlin maybe? Could you put me through again please?”
“Sure thing, my dear.”
Another click.
“Welcome to the best bar in all of San Franci—”
“Tom, it’s Adam again. We really need—”
“Wait, hold up. You need my help? Right now?”
