I stepped forward and spun around before either one could accost me again. There! The corner! Where… Vienna’s bun no longer protruded, and I could no longer hear her or Conrad’s voices. Either they’d ducked down to hide or they’d finished their conversation and moved on.
Plastering on a wide fake smile to hide my disappointment,I looked back over at Millicent and Coriander. They didn’t let their poses fall until I gave them a nod of approval. “Well, it’s so great to see you. Thank you so much for coming,” I said, then looked past them as if seeing another friend I wanted to talk to, the universal signal of moving on.
My friends were very good at ignoring what other people wanted, though. “Wait, Pom,” Coriander said breathlessly. “I wanted to ask your advice…”
Just then, I actually did see someone past them I wanted to talk to. Someone I very much wanted to talk to, in fact, even after more than a year together, which, according to my mom, was about when couples started to hate each other. “Gabe!” I said, and my smile morphed into something genuine.
That faltered a little bit when I realized how uncomfortable he looked—he was scratching the back of his neck and shifting a little in his tux. “Are you okay?” I asked him. He certainly looked it, in the slim-fitting black tux I’d insisted on having made for him after the debacle of our first gala together. I never wanted to speak of it again.
Coriander, however, would. “You look nicetonight,” she said.
Gabe forced a smile. He was not nearly as practiced at it as I was, so he kind of resembled one of those corpses that had been dead for a long time, when its lips started peeling back from its teeth. A really healthy-looking corpse, with warm, golden skin and dark eyes fringed by thick eyelashes I knew at least three women personally who would pay to harvest. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Millicent added. “Tonight, you look really good.” They tittered, as if I were too dumb to parse what they were actually saying.
(To be fair, when Gabe told me he had it all under control for our first gala together, who would think that would mean he’d show up in arental tux? And not even from a designer rental tux company, but the one our building super recommended because he’d rented a tux there for his father-in-law’s funeral?)
I linked my elbow through that of my corpse-boyfriend. A gold cuff link, a “gift from my father” that I’d purchased and wrapped and discreetly handed to my father to hand back to us, glinted at his wrist beside my diamond tennis bracelet. “Gabe, come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
With that, I was able to excuse us from Millicent and Coriander and pull Gabe to the corner where Vienna and Conrad had been talking. Maybe they were hiding back here. I rounded the corner and—
Nothing. Just a waiter on her phone; she glanced up at me with wide eyes and stuttered an apology before darting off too fast for me to assure her that I didn’t mind her being on her phone. I had, after all, spent my grandfather’s funeral riveted not to whatever boring eulogies they were saying about him but to the ugly breakup between Coriander’s boyfriend and his not-so-secret affair partner playing out in the group chat, so who was I to judge?
“Who am I meeting?” Gabe asked, raising an eyebrow at the empty nook.
Well. I could still spin this to my advantage. I spun around, backing into the bookshelf, nudging a few books out of the way as I pulled Gabe into me. “Me.”
I closed my eyes as his lips found mine. Some of the fireworks might have stopped popping a year into our relationship, but fireworks were loud and annoying anyway. I was happy with his warmth, the feeling of safety I felt wrapped in his arms, the way each kiss still sent heat flooding through my belly. One of his hands cupped my cheek, fingers delicately brushing the edge of my hairline but not actually stroking my hair (which I appreciated, considering that hitting the wrong bobby pin might make the whole thing explode). As we pulled apart I sighed, a little bit of the day’s tension draining out of me. “Okay. I really needed that.”
“I’m always at your service,” Gabe said, cracking a smile. I rested my head on his shoulder. “Is everything going okay sofar? I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier. I would’ve rescheduled, but my student takes his SATs tomorrow, so—”
“Don’t worry. I understand.” I didn’t, not really—I’d never been involved in anything I couldn’t change at my whim. But his life was different, and even if I didn’t quite get it, I tried my best. “Everything’s going well, I think. The caterers and bartenders were all here on time, and everyone seems happy. Conrad hasn’t mortally offended anyone yet.” I inhaled deeply through my nose, out through my mouth. “Though the night is still young.” I pulled back and linked my arm through his. “We should mingle.”
He gestured gallantly with his free arm. “After you.”
We spent some time circulating, making small talk about the news and complimenting people’s outfits (the begging for donations would come later, once everybody had consumed a The Pomona Afton or two or five). After a bit, I spotted that familiar sleek black chignon. “Oh, there’s Vienna.”
I wanted to ask her what she’d been doing with Conrad Phlume, but, as I approached, I realized she was holding court with a group of people who looked around our age, maybe a little younger, all dressed in ways that impressed me but that were drawing stares from many of the older people in attendance: one who presented as female but wore a tartan tux; another presenting as male with a long, fuzzy beard who had on a flowing bright orange gown. Vienna lifted a hand in a pageant princess wave. “Speak of the devil herself,” she said. “Everyone, I’m so glad for you to meet Pomona Afton, our hostess tonight.”
It always tickled me when people introduced me. Like everybody doesn’t already know who I am. I inclined my head, preening like one of the themed peacocks that were devastatingly not in attendance. “Thank you so much for attending tonight and supporting such an important cause,” I said. Though, from their age and the fact that I didn’t recognize them, I suspected that they wouldn’t be donating. They had to be Vienna’s gaggle of artists. “If any of you have—”
Orange Gown waved a hand impatiently to shut me up. I shut up, mostly out of shock that someone would dare do that to me. “Yes, the scholarships are great and all. But Imusthear about how you solved amurder. That’sthe most exciting thing I’ve ever heard.”
I was immediately a little queasy. Shifting from foot to foot to recenter myself didn’t help, because my heels were so high it was a little like I was on the deck of a yacht in stormy seas. Maybe I should flash the heel at them like a threat. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” I told them. “I mean, yes, it’s true, I did solve a murder. And…”
Yes, it was exciting—that’d been what I was about to say, because technically it was true. But… I don’t know, saying it like that to this crowd of people looking at me like I was onstage performing for them? It felt a little icky. I went on, “It was my grandmother who died, and my close friend who killed her. So yes, I solved it, but it wasn’t like I was happy about it in the end.”
None of them seemed abashed. “Oh, we didn’t meant it like that,” said one of the others, a squat Black man in a violently purple tux. “It’s like my birds. The goal isn’t for you to feel peace and serenity looking at them, but to feel the adrenaline pumping through your system, for you to reflect on the mortality of your human body and the earth we live on. That’s excitement, is it not?”
The one part that stood out to me in that jumble of buzzwords was “birds.” That, combined with the purplest purple tux I’d ever seen… “You must be Isaiah Franklin,” I said, appreciating that I’d been gifted this glorious change of subject. “It’s such a delight to meet you. I love your work and I so appreciate the peacock you made for the event.” I realized that, while Vienna had told me he’d agreed to make one and transport it to the gala, I hadn’t seen it yet. “Where did they put it? I’m dying to see it.”
“I hope you don’t mean literally,” said Tartan Tux, and the group burst into laughter, Gabe included. Not his real laughter,his fake social laughter, which sounded a bit like he’d gagged on a gazpacho shooter.
Isaiah pointed somewhere behind me. “They were able to hang it from the railing there.”
I turned, then gasped, then choked on all the air I’d gasped.
Isaiah had made us a peacock as requested, yes. I couldn’t fault him for that. I could fault myself for not specifying that the peacock should be, I don’t know,not horrible. It was spun of white and purple feathers, as I’d asked, but the feathers had been spattered with something dark red—hopefully not real blood—and where its eyes should have been gaped empty sockets. And the tail, where I’d envisioned a splendid fanlike display to match the centerpieces, was made up of knives. Rusty ones, jagged ones, small ones, large ones, sleek ones, bulky ones. No wonder they’d had to hang it up; it was probably a liability issue sitting on the floor in case somebody tripped nearby.
