Diana couldn’t move here. The idea of living in the same town, crossing paths with this walking nightmare shook me with a chill that moved from skull to foot.
I had to find a way to convince her to leave town before she messed up my life. Again.
Chapter 3
Nova
Diego was working tonight, and Gianna was at her club, so I drove down to meet her for a drink. Eventually, I’d reveal how my embarrassing seduction went. That might have to wait until after a drink—a large one.
She’d established the Danger Zone with a retro rock vibe. Since one of the things misfits like us bonded over was music, I loved how she’d made a living around that theme. She’d scrambled and saved money to build her club, and now it appeared to flourish.
While she built her business, I’d been living in New York trying to make my way up the publishing ladder, yet somehow always clinging on the bottom rung. Now that I’d moved to Salem and worked part time for the publisher remotely, I was still pretty close to the bottom. Yet, I also had my job at the Network where I felt appreciated. What a turnaround from growing up thinking I had no magical ability only to discover years later I had been blocked.
Anyhoo, another time, another story.
I entered the club and Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” filled my ears. Red and purple lights shone from overhead, highlighting the bar and its bright, shiny bottles in the black room. Gianna wasn’t at the bar or at any of the tables, nor was she dancing among the small groups in the dance space, so she must have been in her office. That was fine. I’d get a drink at the bar and wait.
Since I’d come to this club often to hang out with Gianna, I could have called dibs on a bar stool by now. I usually chose one at the end where Gianna stood to keep watch over what was happening. It was free tonight, so I slid onto it.
Kylie was tending bar. She changed her hair as often as Gianna bought shoes. Kylie’s hair was now reddish-purple. She handed two forty-something guys with long hair and biker jackets a couple of Sam Adams bottles and then moved down the bar to greet me. “Hey, how you doin’, Nova?”
“Great, thanks. Is the Killer Queen busy in her office?” I amused myself by referencing another Queen song.
Kylie nodded. “Yeah, she had to take a call.” She raised a chin. “What can I get you?”
Although I knew most of the drinks listed on the menu, they often switched some out for seasonal specials, so I quickly skimmed the new options. “Ooh, the Raspberry Beret looks yummy. I’ll go for that.”
“Good choice.” Kylie leaned forward in a semi-bow. “That’s one of my concoctions.”
She poured different juices and liquor into a glass and blended it with raspberries. She then poured it into a tall glass and added a comical black beret cutout with some extra raspberries to a toothpick across the top.
After she handed it to me, I said, “Thanks,” and took a sip. A mixture of fruity flavors and liquor exploded on my tongue. “Mmm, so good,” I praised.
I texted Gianna to let her know I was at the bar but no rush.
Be there in a few,she texted back.
Within two minutes, Gianna declared, “Nova!” and joined me at the bar. We chatted for a few minutes with Kylie while she created a Bellini cocktail. After she handed it to Gianna, the two of us moved to a booth.
Paul Davis’s song “‘65 Love Affair” played over the speakers next.
“Oh.” I perked up. “I haven’t heard this song in a thousand years. I forgot how much I liked it.”
“Yeah, it’s a good one,” She agreed with a slight nod. “So, what’s up in Nova land?”
My humiliating strip tease flashed in my mind. “Oh, not much.” I took a huge sip and glanced around the club. A small group were dancing and singing along. One of the guys was edging closer to one of the women, working his moves.
“Check out that social experiment. Do you think he has a chance with her?” I asked. “I’d say no.”
We often people-watched like this, trying to read the situations from afar.
Gianna followed my gaze. The woman wasn’t pushing him away, yet she wasn’t encouraging him either.
“I think she’s into him. Look at how she keeps stealing glances. And her body language is all but screaming her interest.”
I took a closer look. Gianna might be right. “You must have expert-level radar at courtship deciphering by now.”
She snapped her fingers. “Indeed. I see it every night. The more alcohol, the fewer inhibitions—sometimes rock-bottom low.” She widened her eyes and chuckled. “And the mating rituals can be as awkward as a middle school dance.”
