A pit grows in my stomach. “I’m missing a book.”
“You sure?” She eyes the books already on the counter.
“Yes. It’s a hardcover. It has oranges on the spine.”
She shrugs.
I lean over the counter, trying to see into the box. “Can you check again?”
She pulls the box to the bar top and lets me look through it myself. “I know it was here,” I insist, my eyes combing through the room and across the small stage. “Can I check the rooftop?”
I search every inch of Gentle Ben’s, including the restrooms. Daphne watches me with a curious expression, checking her watch every few minutes. She’s getting impatient, but I can’t bring myself to stop. I bite my lower lip, trying to replay last night in my mind.I was reading from the book, West left, and I ran after him.I must have dropped it on the stage or put it on the corner of a table on my way out.
“You can get a new one today,” Daphne says.
“I wantthatone.” I’d sooner publish a first draft than ask West to signanotherbook for me, and for some reason I can’t let this one go. “What if someone else finds it and sees my name in it?”
Daphne represses an amused smile.
“Never mind. I just want it.” The manager is sitting in front of a pile of receipts at the corner table, and she looks less than thrilled when I approach her. “Is there anywhere else it could be? Anyone else who would know?”
She sighs. “I have a bartender who’s one of those BookTok girls. She might have borrowed it from the lost and found.”
“When can I talk to her?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re persistent, aren’t you? Evie isn’t on the schedule today, but you can come back tomorrow. During business hours.”
Strange amount of attitude for someone who just admitted that her employee might be stealing from the lost and found.I smother the fluttery panic that is bouncing off the walls of my stomach. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
The sky is overcast as we leave the bar and walk to the festival. Daphne throws me what she thinks are stealthy sideways glances the entire time. “Is everything okay?”
“Peachy.”
She raises her brows. “Want to try a more believable answer?”
“Sorry.” I blow out a breath and try to shake off my inexplicable anxiety. “Thanks for coming with me. Are you ready for your performance? Do you have a description of the dead body locked and loaded?”
She glances at our feet, only to look back at me seconds later, tears pooling in her eyes. When the first one slides down her cheek, she swipes it away and gives me a self-satisfied smile. “How’d I do?”
“You’re going to kill it, Daph. I’ll have to sneak out the back of your talk ten minutes early to make it to West’s panel, though.”
“Text me the play-by-play.”
“Your friend agreed to help?” I ask, reviewing the plan in my head. Of everything I’ve done to ruin West’s weekend, this is the one thing most likely to backfire, but Daphne insists her friend is down to help. From what I understand, she lives in Tucson and is big in the improv scene.
“I had to promise signed copies ofTorchedfor her nieces, but yes, she’s down to help.”
“Thank you. Thankher.”
Daphne eyes me pensively. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? The last time you let yourself get distracted by him, it ended pretty badly foryou.”
“I’m not scared of him. He should be scared of me and my revenge arc.”
A beat of silence.
“Right?” I prompt.
Daphne throws her head back and laughs. “Yes, Margot, you’re very scary.”
