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“We should be there in about twenty,” I told him. “Meet us there?”
“Will do,” he said. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” The words tripped from me with the ease of habit. I hung up and turned back to Philip. “Marcus is going to meet us there. I hope that’s okay?”
He smiled beneath the sunglasses. “Totally.” I tried to hear if there was anything beneath his words—jealousy, resentment, annoyance—but he seemed completely fine, and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed.
Oh, god, I groaned to myself. I’m going to lunch with my hunky boyfriend and my also-hunky zombie kid. Awkward City, party of three. I kept the smile on my face, but the second I was in my car and on the road I stuck my headset in my ear and hit the dial for “Naomi Comtesse.” Naomi worked for Pietro, but she wasn’t a zombie. Hell, she wasn’t really “Naomi” either.
I’d first met her when she was stalking me—taking pictures and generally being kind of suspicious. After I confronted her she told me her name was Heather Miller, however, it turned out she was really Julia Saber, daughter of Nicole Saber, the CEO of Saberton Corporation. Following in her grandfather Richard Saber’s footsteps, Julia worked industrial espionage for Saberton as Heather Miller for nearly a decade. In fact, a little over four years ago, it was Heather who stole documents from Pietro that allowed Saberton to learn of the existence of zombies. She came to regret that, big time, after she stumbled onto the uglier side of Saberton’s zombie research, and in a tangled twist of events during the filming of a zombie movie, she defected from Saberton, came into the Tribe, and became Naomi Comtesse.
But more importantly, she became my best friend.
“Hey, chick,” she said with a bright lilt to her voice. “Calling to hear me gloat about my trip to Tahiti? Totally magical, I tell you!”
“Oh, sure,” I replied sourly. “Please do tell me all about your tan lines, or lack thereof. But later. Right now I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly completely serious.
“I’m about to have lunch with Philip and Marcus. Together,” I said. “I need you there. And maybe Kyle should be there too. And it might not hurt to pick up some of the day workers hanging out in front of the hardware store to bring along for some more manpower.”
“You . . .” She laughed. “How the hell did you get yourself in that situation?”
Scowling, I gave her a quick explanation. “C’mon,” I whined. “Don’t you owe me some favors?”
“Under any other circumstance, being the human shield between two testosterone factories would burn up any and all favors owed, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Amusement resonated in her tone. “I’ll roust Kyle, and we’ll meet you there.”
“You are beyond wonderful,” I said fervently.
“And you’re pathetic,” she shot back.
“Guilty!”
Chapter 6
The Parking Gods decided to be nice and left a spot on the street open for me less than a block from the restaurant. They even placed it near the corner so that I didn’t have to embarrass myself by demonstrating to the world that my parallel parking skills sucked ass. Totally cool of them, and I offered a heartfelt prayer of thanks as I slid my car into the space.
Unfortunately, the Car Gods didn’t like me anywhere near as much, as demonstrated by the way my car lurched and died before I could turn the ignition off. And, when I tried to start it again, it clicked and nothing more. I’ll deal with it after I eat, I told myself while silently praying that, whatever the issue, it wouldn’t cost more to fix than the car was worth.
I grabbed my purse and left my stupid dead car behind. Marcus was already there, waiting outside and leaning against the wall beneath the Top Cow Café logo. The restaurant sign had been repainted at some point in the last year, but I suspected the painter had been high or drunk. The cow looked more like a blotchy meerkat on its hind legs, and the top hat perched on its—were those supposed to be horns?—looked more like a crouching walrus.
The restaurant itself was a hole-in-the-wall, with tables and chairs crammed so close together the waitresses barely had room to squeeze through. Apparently the tight quarters made it impossible for the servers to carry any sort of pleasant attitude as well, and it was widely known that one came to Top Cow for the excellent food, not sunny dispositions and bright smiling faces. If the waitress cursed you out, you probably deserved it and, even if you didn’t deserve it, the food was still good, so shut up and get over it.
“My car died,” I told Marcus when I reached him. “I may need a ride home. Or a flamethrower.”
He chuckled and gave me a kiss. “Ride, yes. Flamethrower, not so much,” he said. “I put us on the waiting list. Should only be a couple of minutes, since we’re early for the supper rush.”
“Thanks, but it’s going to be five of us now,” I said with an apologetic wince. “Naomi and Kyle are coming as well.”
A wave of obvious relief passed over his face, and I realized he knew damn well how uncomfortable it might’ve been with only the original three. One point to me for inviting the others!
“Not a problem,” he said. “I’ll go tell the hostess.” He slipped past the other waiting people and inside, then returned about half a minute later, though he kept twisting his head awkwardly to look behind him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Do I still have an ass?” He grinned. “I think the hostess just chewed half of it off.”
“I’ll be glad to check later,” I offered with an appropriate leer.
