He had a nice hand, with long, strong fingers and Clarice hadn’t really wanted to let go to putt.
Also, he turned into an armadillo.
Clarice still felt hollow from shock, but sort of excited at the same time. Suspecting that Bruno was a sorcerer was a lot different than knowing for sure that he couldchange into an animal.
She kept replaying in her head Gil’s smooth transition from boy to ball, and it was as surreal as the rest of theneon-lit room around them. And Bruno could do the same. There was a whole society of people who could do this, living silently side-by-side with everyone else.
Almost silently.
“I KNOW HOW TO GET THERE!” Gil’s voice preceded them from the darkness. “It’s NOT A DEAD END. It’s just a TURNAROUND PLACE.”
Bruno’s voice was a low rumble questioning their path, and it wasn’t long before they were coming around one of the course dividers to where Clarice was waiting, just as the music came to a jarring halt.
“We’re closed now. Please return the clubs and balls to the front desk and remove your personal belongings.” Someone in the background of the microphone added, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” Someone else giggled and shushed them.
The lights came up, glaring and harsh after the darkness, and it was easy to find their way out. Gil made a production of leading them.
Clarice got her coat and purse from her locker and frowned to remember the pens in her purse that probably weren’t listening devices, and her phone, which Veronica had insisted on tracking. For hersafety.
How much did Veronica know, or at least guess? Clarice didn’t think Veronica herself was much of a threat, but she knew a lot of people, some of them rich and famous and some of them terribly unsavory. Clarice had been working for her long enough to know that Veronica was involved in things that Clarice wanted no part of.
They all dressed in their coats and hats, impatiently watched by the teenagers manning the counter and closing up concessions, and went outside. The door was promptly locked behind them.
“You probably have a lot of—” Bruno started to say.
Clarice, conscious of the possible devices in her purse, wasn’t sure how else to hush him without being obvious in a recording, so she bounced boldly up on her tiptoes and put her mouth against his.
Bruno didn’t protest. Quite the opposite, he caught her up in his arms and drew her close, turning what Clarice intended to be a quick peck into a lingering kiss.
It might have gone on quite a bit longer if Gil hadn’t started making gagging noises. “I’M COLD. CAN WE GO? IT’S SNOWING.”
When Bruno let go of her, as reluctantly as Clarice did, she put her finger to her lips.
Gil did the same. “What are we—?” he stage-whispered. Truth canon, Clarice remembered. She scampered the last steps to her car and tossed her purse in the back seat before returning to the sidewalk in front of the warehouse where Bruno was still waiting, looking mystified.
“You’ve shared your secrets with me,” she said. “Now I’ve got a few for you. Let’s go somewhere in your truck. It’s possible that Veronica’s bugged mine or has a tracker on it. After today,anythingis possible.”
“I should get Gil home. It’s getting towards his bed time.”
“I’M NOT TIRED,” Gil said, spoiling the statement by yawning big enough to split his face.
“Maybe tomorr—” Clarice started to say, as Bruno offered, “You could come over?”
“Now?” Clarice could still taste his kiss and she wondered if there was more to the offer than just business.
“I mean, I didn’t really plan for company, but…”
“Yes,” Clarice said eagerly. She wasn’t going to be an idiot and miss this opportunity. “I’d love that. Yes.”
Bruno had to move a few things out of the passengerseat; it was clear he had been using it for casual storage, and Clarice was happy to wait while he shoved everything in the back of the crew cab with Gil.
28
BRUNO
Gil kept up a running commentary on the way home, pointing out the snow, the darkness, the stuff on his hands, and raving about how good hot dogs were.
Bruno lived in a fourplex crowded with a dozen others. It wasn’t quite a house, and not quite an apartment, and he was dismayed by how messy it looked with fresh eyes; Gil’s toys were everywhere. Clarice didn’t say anything derogatory about the neighborhood and didn’t seem judgmental about his tidiness.
