Page 81 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“Oh, so it’s mutual, is it?” Her mouth twitches as she watches me verbally flounder. “She also said you’re as prickly as a puffer fish.”

“Charming.”

“Come on.” She opens the door wider and indicates with a tilt of her head that I should step inside whether I want to or not.

She has a very commanding presence.

I hang my coat on the crowded hook by the door, and she leads me into the packed living room.

“Do you want a drink? There’s beer, wine, and cocktails, although you might want to avoid them. If Chan’s been mixing them, you’ll probably be paralytic in two sips. She’s not known for sticking to standardised measurements when it comes to her booze.”

“Um, no thank you,” I say politely. Trying to block everyone’s emotions is going to take a lot of effort, and while I do enjoy a glass of wine, alcohol will only make it harder.

“There are bottles of water in the fridge in the kitchen too. Tristan said everyone can help themselves.”

“Maybe later,” I murmur, and glance nervously at the sheer amount of people I don’t know in the room. I must have a flashing neon sign saying socially awkward across my forehead because the tall drag queen next to me seems to note my discomfort and takes pity on me.

“I’m Brandy, Brandy Butter. There’s also some more of the ladies from The Rainbow Room. Over there in the sequins and the shoulder pads so large she should be playing American football is Ruby Slippers.”

“How does she even get through the doorway in those things?” I frown as I look at the drag queen chugging a cocktail. “They’re huge and so…glittery. It’s like I’ve stepped right into 1983 and an episode of Dynasty.”

“She turns sideways,” Brandy replies, glancing at me. “Aren’t you a little young for that reference?”

“My dads were fans. It’s all about the face slaps and drama.”

Brandy snorts. “Beside her is Ginger Royale.” She eyes my red hair. “No offence.”

“None taken.”

“Over there, that’s Maddie.” She points a lethally pointed purple nail across the room to a short, compact woman with long, curly red hair, who is standing with a beer in one hand and her arm wrapped around the waist of a pretty blonde woman. “She’s a detective and Danny’s partner at Scotland Yard. The woman with her is her wife Sonia.”

Brandy eyes Maddie briefly for a moment and then looks back to me contemplatively. “I’m beginning to think you gingers are like buses, nothing for ages and then two show up at once. I thought you lot were meant to be a dying breed.”

“Apparently not,” I reply.

“It’s a pretty colour.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She shrugs, and she doesn’t seem the type to compliment people often, so I guess I should be pleased.

“I don’t know him, or him, or her.” She starts randomly pointing people out and not being at all subtle about it. “I think they’re Tristan and Danny’s new neighbours.” She takes a long suck on her vape and then releases a thin stream of smoke. The sickly sweet notes catch at the back of my throat and make me cough again.

“You should get that cough looked at. Summer colds are no joke, especially after all that rain we’ve just had,” she mutters absently, and continues to scan the busy room. I can barely hear her above the purring of the chunky furball still tucked rather serenely under her arm. “Ari’s wandering around here somewhere. He’s my partner and the owner of The Rainbow Room.”

“And that is…a club?”

“A drag club,” she says with an eye roll and a sigh, as if it should be obvious. “You can’t mistake Ari, not with the gold medallion and copious amounts of chest hair. Seriously, the man’s like a gorilla. It’s very warm to cuddle up to in the winter though, so it saves on the heating bills, I suppose.”

Try as I might, I cannot picture Brandy as the type to cuddle.

“To be honest, you’ll probably hear him before you see him. When I first met him, I honestly thought he had Tourette’s. Turns out he just really likes the word fuck. In fact, I’ve never met anyone else who can use the word fuck twenty times in a three-word sentence. Makes dirty talk very confusing. There was one time in bed that I actually had to gag him with my–”

“Oh, what the fucking fuck’s she fucking doing fucking now,” rings out a brash cockney accent, making several heads turn.

“There he is.” Brandy takes another toke on her vape. “You’d better not be talking about me, Roberto Caligliari,” she says flatly to a short man in a very shiny, garishly patterned neon pink silk shirt sidling up in front of us. His black trousers cling to his thick legs and his rather pronounced paunch rests on a large silver belt buckle. Said bright shirt is open almost to his belly, revealing tufts of what can really only be described as a pelt. A very thick black and grey pelt. I actually have to blink several times—I’m not sure if I have the beginning of a migraine or if the zigzag pattern on his shirt is messing with my eyes.

“Of course not, my queen.” Ari smiles widely, his bushy eighties pornstache wrinkling at the corners as he blows her a kiss. Then his expression flattens and he hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m talking about the fucking mad old bird with the fucking gin.”