Kit bought time chewing his garlic bread. “I’m an assistant.”
Miranda glared daggers at Darius.
“Not Darius’s assistant,” Kit clarified hastily.
Miranda’s glare jumped to James.
“Not mine either,” James said, only leering slightly. “Unfortunately.”
“I work for Bishop,” Kit clarified. “He’s a private detective. What do you do, Paz?”
That was a good diversion; Paz’s array of part-time jobs took them through the next half hour of conversation. Actress, dog walker, mural artist, makeup artist, occasional shifts at her mom’s comic book store. Kit didn’t know where she found the time, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one.
“Darius said you do Miranda’s cosplay makeup,” Kit said, and serenely ignored Darius’s groan. “Do you go to a lot of conventions?”
“Yes!” Paz pushed her plate aside and whipped out her phone. “Do you want to see photos? Miranda looks amazing in—”
“Not the latest con,” Darius said suddenly.
“Why not?” Miranda pouted—the most ‘younger sister’ expression she’d shown yet. “I won second in the costume contest.”
Darius took Kit’s empty water glass. “Kit’s not into gore,” he said, heading for the kitchen.
“Ooh, good call.” Paz swiped hastily through her photos. “I forget normal people get freaked out about the zombie gore.”
“Paz is amazing at zombies,” Miranda enthused. “But she’s okay at magical girls, too.”
“I’ll show you okay,” Paz said, just as cheerful.
Luckily nobody but James was looking at Kit, because he couldn’t control his stunned expression. Nobody had called him normal since… he couldn’t even remember.
He was normal right now. Sitting in his normal dining room, eating normal chicken parmigiana, his boyfriend returning with his normal refill of water. A normal kiss on top of his head. A normal flush. A normal raised eyebrow from his boyfriend’s sister.
All the murders and abductions and nightmare photographs couldn’t take this away from Kit. Nothing in the future could, either.
Even better—this was an unexpected opportunity. After admiring the curated, blood-free portfolio, Kit asked, “Do you have any photos of Darius in cosplay?”
Darius choked.
Miranda beamed. “Of course not,” she said, dragging out the unconvincing lie. “But we should exchange numbers. Just in case you ever need anything.”
“This was a terrible idea,” Darius said, covering his face.
James leaned back, smug. “This was a wonderful idea. So nice to meet you, Miranda. Stay for dessert?”
“What dessert?” Kit asked, entering his number into Miranda’s phone.
“We have…” James trailed off. “Red wine. And white wine. All right, so we don’t have dessert.”
“Don’t we have ice cream?” Darius asked. “Not that I’m letting my menace of a sister stay for dessert.”
“I ate all the ice cream,” Kit confessed, handing Miranda’s phone back. Moments later, his own phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:Miranda Fontaine
Unknown Number:HMU if you ever need anything
Unknown Number:Stand by for photos later
