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When I frowned at him, he quickly cleared his throat. “So, about this chick we’re going to find for you tonight.” Rubbing his hands together, he scanned the crowd for possible targets, but I held up my palm.
“No. Let’s just give it a break for tonight. Besides, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat instead.”
Remy blinked as if he’d never heard of such an idea. “Food?”
“Taco Bell,” I declared. “Only place to go after a night of drinking.” Then I grinned and quoted their slogan, “Yo quiero Taco
Bell.”
“No.” Wrinkling his nose, Remy shook his head. “No, no no. No quiero Taco Bell. The only Mexican food I eat is made at Castañeda’s.”
Remembering the chimichanga he’d shared with me, I rubbed my stomach. That did sound good. But... “I’m guessing they’re not open this late.”
He shook his head. “But I could call my cousin Big T and get him to fire up the grill. He makes the best tostadas de tinga. Ooh, or chicharrón preparado if you just want a cold snack.”
I sighed. “Meh. Don’t bother him. Let’s just find an all-night cafe or something.”
So half an hour later, we found ourselves sitting across a diner booth from each other, scarfing down bacon, and eggs, and biscuits and gravy.
“We totally rocked tonight, huh?” Remy said, brushing crumbs off the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Better than we did in Chicago, I think.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. We were definitely developing our talent and learning to play better as a group. But the word Chicago struck a memory in me, making my mind veer in a different direction. Snapping my fingers, I pointed. “Hey, I forgot to tell you earlier. I saw shower girl at the Granada.”
Remy lowered his fork and blinked at me. Then he slowly said, “Shower girl?”
I rolled my eyes, because, really, who else could I be referring to? “The stray woman I found in our shower in Chicago...in the hotel,” I added when he continued to stare at me as if he had no clue what I was talking about.
Finally, he licked a crumb off his top lip and slowly responded. “And she was…at the Granada? Tonight?” When I nodded, he squinted. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely one hundred percent positively sure,” I answered. “It was her, same purple streaks in her hair and everything.”
“That’s...that’s...” He shook his head and sent me a sly smile. “That’s actually a little hard to believe, man. I mean, the same exact girl was in Chicago and here in Ellamore?”
He had a point. The idea was a little out there. I chewed on my bottom lip, certain it had been her, but doubting myself nonetheless. “You don’t think I’m going crazy, do you?” I finally asked. “I mean, not enough sex, jerking off too much lately… What if it’s making me delusional? Oh shit.” I sat back in my booth, stunned. “What if there wasn’t even a girl in our shower? What if she doesn’t exist, and this little obsession turns out worse than that thing I had for Incubus shirt girl, and I end up drooling and rocking in some corner because I’ve lost my damn mind?”
“Uh...” Clearly at a loss for words, Remy moved his mouth a few times but couldn’t come up with anything to say.
“Never mind,” I told him, letting him know he didn’t need to say anything. “You’re probably right. It couldn’t have been the same girl. I probably just wanted it to be her because there was, you know, so much chemistry there when I saw her in Chicago.”
“Chemistry?” Remy lifted his eyebrows in interest. “Oh really? Do tell.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Shut up, fucker. I’d rather talk about your infatuations than mine.”
Murmuring out a sound of pity, he tipped his head to the side. “Ah, but we already know who my current infatuation is, don’t we?”
I gulped, remembering I was. Shit. I hadn’t meant to go down that road again. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he swished out his hand.
“Besides, that’s old news. Let’s get back to you. This shower girl. Be honest. More or less chemistry than what you felt for Incubus shirt girl?”
I opened my mouth, stunned when I realized I didn’t know the answer to that. “I’m not sure,” I spoke honestly. “Strange. Both encounters were just...different, but probably held the same intensity. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of,” he murmured, “not really.”
“You know,” I spoke over him, frowning in thought. “Now that you mention Incubus shirt girl, the two of them did have a lot of similarities. Same basic figure, long dark hair, that certain Latino look. Too bad I never got a good up-close glimpse of Incubus shirt girl’s face.”
Remy slapped his hand on the top of the table as if an idea had just struck. “Maybe they’re the same girl.”
I snorted. “Right...because she just happened to show up at Forbidden, the Granada and in Chicago all on the same nights I was there. That’s totally possible. Sure.” Then I rolled my eyes.
