Page 9 of East

“Okay.” I laugh uneasily.

Maybe the deafening silence is preferable to this forced conversation. I go back to my phone and read the same seven tweets I read two minutes ago.

Finally, we pull off Lake Shore Drive and ease into the heart of downtown. The driver makes a couple of turns until we’re gliding down Michigan Avenue. Finally she turns onto Van Buren and stops in front of a large building glittering with emerald bricks.

I squint. “What is this place?”

The driver gestures. “It’s where you’re going. Thought this place might be it. Lots of Twistr people seem to end up here. You must be the third person I’ve dropped off this week.”

“But where⁠—”

The driver unlocks the doors. “Enjoy your date.”

“O-Okay.” I open the door and step outside. I’ve barely closed the door behind me when the driver rushes off.

I take another look at the building. On second viewing, only about a fifth of the bricks are actually green. The rest just match the shade because the color is reflecting off avocado-colored sconces lining the building. An ornate art-deco style door outlined in lime sunbursts stands at the center of the building, and all its windows are obscured by heavy velvet curtains in a lush forest shade. The building sits on a tall foundation at least seven feet off the ground, and the only way to reach the front entrance is by zigzagging up a ramp that leads up to it. I step on the ramp⁠—

Wow! It’s covered in sparkling golden carpet. I feel like a movie star as I ascend to the entrance. It’s actually a revolving door—hard to tell from the street. I’m about to go inside when the glittering letters of the building’s name etched in an arch above the door catch my eye.

I take a step back to read it.

The Jade Sanctum.

4

AUS

Final-fucking-ly.

After nearly an hour of bumper-to-bumper bullshit, I’m pulling into the parking garage the Jade Sanctum staff and I use. I careen into the nearest parking spot, nearly trading paint with the huge-ass trucks on either side of me.

I jump out of my car, shimmy out of the tiny sliver of space between my car and the next, and run—and I mean a full-throttled run—to the Jade Sanctum entrance, checking my watch along the way.

The club’s only been open for ten minutes. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not that late.

But I hate being late. Always have, ever since it was drummed into my head by the guy who ran a magic camp I went to the summer between high school and college.

Not the only thing the bastard drummed into my head, but I let the thought go for now. No time to dig up my past.

I called Leo on the way and asked him to cover for me. I hate doing it—nowhere in his contract does it say it’s his responsibility to hold down the fort whenever the boss doesn’t show up—but he’s a team player. I’ll make sure to give him a whopping Christmas bonus at the end of the year for his trouble.

It’s funny. A few months ago I would have called Scarlet with the favor. But she’s been super fidgety and anxious lately—why is anyone’s guess—and can’t seem to be asked to do anything without breaking into tears.

It’s a shame. Scarlet would be a great person to act as my second in command. She’s a teacher, used to teach high school and recently switched to kindergarten. If anyone can handle a group of drunk patrons, it’s a woman with equal experience corralling hormonal teenagers and impulsive five-year-olds. Scarlet’s smart, too. A Rhodes scholar with the whole world at her fingertips when she was in her early twenties. I’m not sure what happened between then and now, but I know she sure as hell didn’t end up going to Oxford.

Still though, she’s sharp. Everyone knows it except her.

I walk up to the back door, but it’s locked. Of course it is. It’s always locked during business hours. I’ll have to go in through the front entrance on Van Buren, make the walk of shame to my DJ booth in the club’s center. Which will make me even more late. I can’t help but chuckle lightly at how all the forces of the universe—including my own dumb ass—have conspired to make me as late as possible tonight.

I hoof it around the large building dotted with emerald bricks and start twisting up the Golden Carpet. Why we don’t have stairs that lead from the sidewalk to the front door is beyond me, but⁠—

My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it out of my pocket.

It’s Leo. Are you almost here?

I roll my eyes. I start typing.

Literally walking in right⁠—