“Hi,” the kid says, looking from me to him. “You work at the pub, yeah?”
“We’re closed,” I say, cigarette between my lips.
“I know. I just… I need to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
He flinches. “Um, the mice inside the pub yesterday?”
Christ on a rail. One step forward, six bloody back.Whoever this teenager is, I’d bet my right arm he’s here for a cash payout for imaginary food contamination.
“Things do have a way of getting worse, don’t they?” I say to Des.
“Seems that way,” Des replies, his gaze still locked on the kid.
I strike my lighter, level the flame at the stranger. “Right then. What’s all this about the mice?”
23
Cece
Back when I had nursing money, I got my hair done every eight weeks. Cut, colour, blowout. I always swanned out of the salon feeling like a million dollars.
My new barber mate Johnny did a phenomenal job, but any million dollar feeling I might have experienced evaporated when he switched off the dryer. Without that blissful vacuum of white noise, I could hear my phone blowing up. Three missed calls and a voicemail from Ada, two calls from my mum and a message from Tristan that started ‘Cece, be mature about this…’
That was all I caught before I deleted it. Mature, my ass.
My heart was pounding as I paid Johnny, and I think he was worried I was going to puke again, because he gave me another two bottles of Mount Franklin on the house. I waited until I was on the street and called Ada.
“Hey, Cee. How’s it going, baby girl?”
“Hi. What’s up?”
“The sky,” she laughs maniacally, and I grit my teeth. There’s no way she called me this many times only to make kindergarten jokes.
“Actually, no, things are bad. This is so fucking annoying, and I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotten a flat on some random road. I’m not too far, but I can’t change the tyre.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Of course, Ada would get a flat the first time she ever drove my car. And of course it’s happened now, on the worst day of my life.
“Okay…” I mutter, trying to recall the roadside assistance number. A sinking feeling hits: I let my membership lapse this year. Too expensive on top of all the bills piling up at Afterglow. I think of Davis telling me I have no idea how to run a business, and the sinking feeling reaches ocean depths.
“Sorry,” Ada repeats, still sounding way too chipper considering the situation. “Seriously, I’m so sorry. Can you borrow one of your parents’ cars and come meet me?”
Absolutely not. “No. I guess I’ll… Look, you drop a pin, and I’ll get a rideshare out. It’ll cut into us getting ready for the cocktail party, though…”
Thank God for Johnny of the Blow Dry because at least my hair’s already done.
“Sorry,” Ada repeats. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It’s fine,” I lie. “See you soon.”
I hang up. A second later, the pin appears on my screen. Ada’s miles away, near the Thompson Farm packing sheds. What the fuck is she doing out there? I thought she was seeing her parents?
If Ada brings the creepiness that is Thrasher Thompson down upon us again, I am going to strangle her. There’s not enough antiseptic in the world to scour off the filthy grime of his attention. I almost burnt the bench he sat in and salted the site after he visited Afterglow. In the end, I asked Krissy to bring in some of her crystals and moon water and cleanse it the next day. We kept it secret from everyone else, so I didn’t get shit from Davis for being superstitious, but where science doesn’t work, magic has its place.
I order a ride, and when a red Toyota Camry pulls to the curb in front of me, I diveinto the backseat.
“Good day?” the driver asks.
