The sidewalks are mostly empty, but Bread & Bean, the coffee shop bakery in the building next to the museum, maintains its usual clientele. Antique shops, local restaurants, and a few bars occupy the next couple of blocks. Dad’s shop, where he sells custom dining sets, end tables, and chairs, is located at the opposite end of the street.
He heads straight for the museum door. I clutch his arm and stop him. “Wait. Let me go first.”
If there’s a monster inside, I don’t want him caught in the crossfire. He pauses and steps aside, furrowing his brows. Standing up to the glass, I peek inside.
“Summer, what’s going on?” he asks under his breath.
My gaze lands on the statue behind the counter. He’s in the exact position he’s always in, looking like he’d never moved at all. Staring at his stoney form, cast in the gray light of a blustery morning, I swallow and shake my head. “No. Nope, everything is fine. Looks clear.”
I tug on the door, but it doesn’t give. I tug harder.
It’s locked.
Dad watches me, his expression concerned as I dig my keys out of my purse.I could’ve sworn…
“Good to see you!”
Dad jumps and I startle, the keys falling back to the bottom of my bag, but it’s only Mr. Beck, one of my dad’s friends and the owner of Bread & Bean. He and my father exchange awkward good mornings while I find my keys again.
Unlocking the door, I casually step into the museum. Dad rushes past me, stomping through the space, calling out and turning on the lights while I meander toward the gargoyle, staring hard. His cock is there, only flaccid this time, like a Greek statue. Even flaccid, it’s still big.
He was erect yesterday. I’m sure of it. Glancing at the replica figurines, I confirm none of them have cocks.
My stomach shrivels. And the only thing I can think of is why?Why does he have to be hung? What did I do to deserve this?I take off my glasses and rub my eyes.
Replacing them, I examine him closer, noticing small clues, details that only someone who has spent the last year next to him would know. One wing is arched slightly higher than the other. His left hand is straight where it was once curled.
He did move. Hehasmoved.
I’m not going batshit insane. The world is, and it’s taking me down with it. My gaze strays back to his groin…Why does he have such an entrancingly large cock?I want to shake my fist at the heavens.
Dad returns to the front room, and I step in front of the statue, blocking his view.
“All clear,” he says.
“Oh, good.”
He gives me that squinty, suspicious look again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod and reach for my phone lying on the counter. “Yep.”
“Summer, call Hopkins right now. You’re taking some time off.”
I’m fighting the urge to remind him I’m an adult when we’re interrupted by a loud bang from Main Street. The building shakes, and the floorboards creak. We rush toward the windows.
“Fire!” someone shouts, running by.
Dad heads for the door, and I follow. Outside, smoke billows into the air, right above the coffee shop. People are running out of it.
“Wait here,” Dad orders, bolting next door.
I switch off the museum’s light, and after giving the gargoyle a last lingering glance, I lock the front door and race after Dad.
By the time I reach the Bread & Bean, the smoke has turned black as soot. The scent of burning wood is joined by the acrid stench of torched fabrics and plastics. A man stumbles out the front door, dragging another behind him as distant sirens fill the air. It’s John Beck, dragging his father behind him. Dad rushes to help, and the two of them carry an unconscious Mr. Beck onto the street.
My eyes water from the smoke as I keep the crowd from my dad, John, and Mr. Beck.
Time passes in a stunned haze. A doctor steps out of the growing crowd and mutters something about smoke inhalation and a concussion after examining Mr. Beck.
