Lucy tilts her head. “That was a very fast answer. Almost too fast.”
Sandra glares. “Don’t you dare.”
Lucy smirks. “A point will not be deducted for ‘too fast’ answers.”
The game goes on, our laughter bubbling over the music as we trade truths and accusations. But even with a few good jabs at Sandra’s love life, I can feel myself slipping further behind.
Finally, Lucy claps her hands together like a judge delivering a verdict. “That’s it. Game over. And the winner is …” She draws it out for dramatic effect, even giving herself a little drum roll on the table. “… Sandra Milton.”
Sandra leaps up from her chair, throwing her arms in the air like she’s just scored a hat trick at Wembley in the World cup final. “Yes. Yes. Thank you, everyone. I worked hard for this victory. I deserve it.”
I slump back, pouting. “This was rigged.”
Lucy shakes her head. “Nope. It was just brutal honesty. And you lost.”
Sandra leans across the table, her grin positively feral. “Which means, my dear Pippa, you get to perform the forfeit.”
I don’t know about the fair and square bit. I think I’ve been conned.Dread slithers into my stomach. “I hate this already.”
“You’re going to love it.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Sandra exchanges a look with Lucy, and they both burst out laughing. My stomach sinks further.
“Out with it,” I say, bracing myself. “What fresh hell have you concocted?”
Sandra leans in, her voice gleeful. “Your forfeit is … you have to ask someone out. Right here. In Mason’s. Tonight.”
I blink at her, horrified. “What? Absolutely not.”
“Yes,” Lucy chimes in, her grin wicked. “Sandra and I will choose the lucky victim while you change.”
Clearly, they had this planned between them in advance. That makes me even more nervous. I probably shouldn’t ask, but I have to know. “Change? Into what?” I ask, dreading the answer.
Sandra wiggles her eyebrows. “Into my old Halloween costume. I wore it for my shift here last year and never got around to taking it home. It’s still in my cubby in the break room.”
I didn’t come to the bar last Halloween. George wanted a quiet night in, so I have no idea what costume Sandra wore. Itcan’t be that bad, though, whatever it is. The way they are both grinning, though, makes me doubt that.
“Can’t I just do it dressed like this?” I plead.
“Nope. Rules are rules,” Sandra says in a sing-song voice.
“If you don’t do it, you forfeit your dignity as well. And honestly, you don’t have much left to lose if you keep texting George,” Lucy puts in.
“Thanks for that,” I say, glaring at them both. “You two are evil.”
Sandra nods her head in agreement. “Evil but entertaining. Now off you go to the break room, if you please.”
Still grumbling, I weave my way toward the bar, the music pulsing around me. Peter May is behind the bar, tall and broad-shouldered with his usual easy smile. When I reach the end of the counter, he grins at me.
“Pippa Fairfax,” he says warmly. “What kind of trouble are you causing tonight?”
I groan. “Don’t ask. Apparently, I need to get changed into Sandra’s costume from last year’s Halloween.”
His smile widens. “Ah, the infamous …” he says, and then he stops. “I’ll let you see it for yourself.”
Oh God, what the hell is it?
