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“Wednesday?” Delia asks in horror, pausing halfway in her efforts. “Butdozensof things could go wrong before Wednesday.” She lets the salt plop onto the table and grabs out a sprig of leaves. Sage.
I guess Josie really has her convinced that I’m metaphysically fucked.
Truthfully, I’m more concerned about the potential psychopath across the alley. My initial impulse was to tell them about her, but I can tell Delia really did stay up all night worried about me, and if she learns about the blonde lady, she’ll probably think my weirdo neighbor has something to do with the hex.
Either that or she’ll tell me I’m the one who’s psycho, what with giving the finger to someone I’ve never met.
Shauna picks up my perfect leaf, and I feel something pulsing in my chest, almost like panic.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
Her lips twitch, but she sets it down on the island, which is of course when she sees the note. Looking up with a glint in her eyes, she says, “Don’t hold out on us. What’s happening on Wednesday?”
“I already told you, the anti-hex thing. Maybe Byron can bring a little doll of me, so I don’t need to show up in person.”
Shauna puts a hand on her hip. “That’s not what Danny was talking about.”
“He’s meeting Daphne at a bar on Wednesday evening. My bar,” I add as I swing my way over to the kitchen island. I want to put the leaf in my pocket, but I don’t like the little knowing tilt of my friend’s mouth. So I add, “He’ssuperexcited to see her, especially now that he has those new glasses I got for him.”
I’m only saying it to put her off the scent, but there’s some real bitterness behind the words. It’s all that ill-advised Googling I’ve done about Daphne. Still. I’m pretty sure I did the right thing, telling him to take the meeting. If he doesn’t, he’ll always wonder what she would have said.
“You know, Leonard has this theory about you and Danny,” Shauna says contemplatively, tapping her nail on the note.
Five seconds ago, I’d intended to keep my involvement with Danny a secret, but I’m nothing if not capricious, because I find myself saying, “Does it have something to do with him finger-banging me on the stalled elevator?”
I’ve never been good at hoarding secrets. Besides, I can’t deny I want to talk to someone about all of this.
Delia drops the salt, and I can hear it spilling everywhere. Good luck getting that out of the cracks of the floor, Danny.
I’ve managed to surprise Shauna too, but there’s just a slight widening of her eyes before she grins at me. “It was less graphic, but yeah, that was the general idea.”
“Mira,” Delia says, and there’s something syrupy sweet in her voice but not saccharin.
I lift a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. He still has that private meet-up with Daphne, and I told him we couldn’t explore whatever’s going on between us until he goes. Plus, you have to admit our lives aren’t compatible. He can’t be around crowds or noise for long, and I basically thrive on them.”
Shauna shrugs. “Who says you have to share everything? Isn’t it better to keep some things for yourself?”
I shrug back. “Maybe, but there’s no denying Danny and Daphne have a lot more in common. I mean, even their names sound compatible. They could get married and have lots of D-named children.”
“Danielle…Dickface…Droopy, the possibilities are truly endless,” Shauna says. “But I feel like you’re evading the point. Before last week, you couldn’t even remember what Danny’s face looked like from one meeting until the next. We need to know more about what happened on that elevator. You know, leading up to the fingerbanging. And over this last week.”
I feel my sister watching me. “She got to know the real Danny,” she says. “He’s a wonderful man.”
I nod, and my throat thickens, almost like I’m about to cry. “I did. But—”
Delia’s lips firm, her eyes narrowing on me, like she knows I was about to spout off some bullshit self-conscious drivel about not feeling smart enough for Danny. We know each other’s scars like they’re our own. “Glitterati was rated the #1 new bar in Asheville in thatMountain Expresspoll.”
“Yeah, maybe five people vote on that. Besides, women don’t have to be in competition with each other.” And, let’s face it, if I was in anything but a drinking or mixology competition with Daphne, I would lose and lose badly.
“Don’t forget that you’re a businesswoman too,” Delia insists. “A good one.”
Time to change the subject. My chest feels suspiciously like a raw wound that someone’s ladling salt into. It’s not just Daphne…
The logical side of me that can’t see this thing with Danny working beyond this liminal space—this apartment where each of us can be separated from the outside world.
I swing my way over to her and poke some of the salt on the counter. It is, as advertised, large-grain black salt.
“Delia,” I say. “Josie’s not psychic. Or capable of hexing people. I screwed up my ankle because I was being stupid. It was my own fault. And, as we’ve already established, Byron’s an idiot who doesn’t follow directions. So, we don’t have to worry about any of this.”
