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Besides, the IKEA ones had ended up being super sturdy. Not everything from that store was blinding white. Who knew?
Instead, these were wrought iron and fake dark wood that would fool most people, me included. Gideon or August would probably sneer at the shelving, but it worked for me. And it made cleaning up the copious amounts of coffee that somehow seemed to spill everywhere far easier.
Crawling around under the structure, I found a few more spots for bats. I had a battery-operated black cat with ominous green eyes nestled in with bags of my special August coffee blend. It wasn’t quite summery, and not yet filled with the spices of fall.
I yawned and contemplated curling up under the creamer station like Isis, my cat, but I backed out and moved over to my remotes. It was far too late to sleep now. I’d just have to make it through the morning rush then I could disappear for a nap.
I turned on my spooky playlist. Lana Del Rey’s moody voice filled the empty café. Since I was alone, I twirled and swayed my way across the room with my big stepladder to tackle the best part of my Halloween transformation—the corner bookcase. It was my favorite place to sink in and make it as over the top spooky as humanly possible.
Well, that and to still be functional…ish.
I gathered my rags and cleaner and climbed up to the top to start dragging down the books and mugs I’d used as decor. Dust kicked up and I pulled up my bandana to keep from swallowing it all. I sang along with the whispery, sex-voiced Lana. Her version of “Season of the Witch” was one of my favorites.
My hips swayed to the beat as I tucked in a skull and a raven from my Poe collection. The old typewriter I’d found at a consignment shop in Salem held center stage. I’d typed up a few stanzas from The Raven and added a little slashy blood on the parchment paper.
“Daddy, what is she doing?”
I screeched and only my quick grab on the ladder kept me from tipping.
Gideon rushed across the room to stabil
ize my ladder with one hand. His other gripped the back of my calf. “Jesus, Mace. What are you doing up there?”
I glanced down at him. “Better question. What are you doing here trying to scare eight years off my life?”
His jaw was tight and his eyes hooded as his gaze kept tracking to my ass then back to my face as if he couldn’t decide where it belonged.
A strawberry-haired girl hobbled forward on one crutch. She twirled to take in the room, then seemed to realize Gideon was no longer next to her. She hopped double-time to get close to Gideon. Her eyes were huge. “Whoa. This place is so sick!”
“Um, thanks.” I glanced down at Gideon’s hand still gripping my leg.
He cleared his throat. His green eyes looked about as bloodshot as mine probably were. “Right. Sorry.” He released me and stepped back.
“Hi.” The little girl was grinning up at me with a tooth missing in the front.
“Hi.” Then I turned to Gideon with probably matching huge eyes and tilted my head in the universal sign of what-the-fuck?
“Your mask is super sick. Can I have one?”
“My what?” I blinked before realizing what she meant and pulled down my bandana with the evil jack-o-lantern drawing on it. “Sorry.” Dumbfounded, I didn’t know what else to say.
I felt vaguely sick too and not from my inherent cool factor.
Gideon held out a hand and obviously, I was well past sleep deprived since I accepted it and let him help me down the stairs.
“What’s going on?” I asked out of the side of my mouth.
Gideon didn’t let go of my hand. “So, I have a huge favor to ask.”
I tried to detangle our fingers, but he was holding on like I was a damn lifeline. “What are you doing here? And who’s your friend?”
He frowned at me, one eyebrow raised. “This is my daughter, Dani.”
She waved. “Hi. What’s your name?”
I finally was able to get my hand away from his. Probably because I’d immediately started sweating like a prepubescent. I swiped my palm down my jeans. “I’m Macy Devereaux.”
“Wow. Cool name. I’m just a lame Danielle.”
