“If it weren’t for me watching you watching her getting off from the smell of you—which, by the way, is seriously gross—Mona never would have swooped in to save your ass. You would have regretted it, perv.”
I suddenly felt very resolute. “Abigail, I will cover your ‘shift’ every Saturday night for a year,”—I held up air quotes when I said the word shift—“but you have to promise me something.”
“What?” she said.
“No more snooping around, no more telling Mona things, and no more shit-talking to me.” I lowered my voice. “We can help each other, okay?”
Before that night, I’d had no idea that was how Mona found things out. I guess you could do a job for two centuries and still be in the dark.
Abigail appeared to be contemplating my offer. “Fine.”
When I overheard Evey talking to Brooklyn about a lace thong, I took a swig of whiskey and tried to focus on Abigail. “What plans do you have anyway, if we’re all working?”
“I’m seeing someone, and he gets his shifts covered too.”
I snickered. “We’re not supposed to make commitments to each other. Don’t you know that?”
“You and I just made a commitment, didn’t we? Anyway, I wouldn’t start talking to me about the rules if I were you. At least I’m dating one of us. Something is off in you for even being attracted to what’s her face.”
“It’s Evelyn, and piss off, Abigail. Go, I’ll take it from here. You’re free to go see your man.”
“Angel,” she corrected, before disappearing. She had to get in one final dig.
A second later, Zack swooped over from across the street, flapping his shitty wings. “She is such a stuck-up bitch.” He hated the pretty ones because they never gave him the time of day.
“Whatever. She’s helping me out.”
“Helping you do what?”
“I’m not zapping Evey again. I don’t want to mess with her anymore. Did you know that Abigail tells Mona shit?”
Zack didn’t respond for several seconds. “Yeah, I mean, I guess I knew.”
“Do you tell Mona stuff?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“No, don’t even go there, bro. I would never.”
“I gotta go,” I said, before drinking the last of the whiskey.
I popped into Evey’s kitchen, where she was mixing up margaritas for her and Brooklyn. Evey was dressed to go out, revealing more skin than usual in her black silk shorts-jumper. Her smooth legs were still tan from the summer. She was wearing three-inch platform heels that I knew belonged to Brooklyn. I made a frustrated sound. She startled and turned around as if she’d heard me. She looked through me… thankfully.
“Brooke?” she called.
My heart was racing. Had she heard me?
“Yeah?” Brooklyn said, walking into the kitchen. “Wow, girl, you look amazing. You’re totally gonna get some action.”
“I don’t need action.” Evey handed over the margarita and said thoughtfully, “I’m extremely sated at the moment.”
“Ew, what were you doing to yourself in there?”
I felt like I should leave, like I was invading her privacy.
“Oh, shut up, you do it all the time. You don’t think I hear the buzzing?” Evey asked.
“Who were you thinking about? Huh? Please don’t say Beckett.”
I was standing right next to Evey, my mouth near her cheek. I was willing her to say my name but at the same time praying she wouldn’t.
“No one in particular.” She squinted. “Hot guy fantasy.”
Say my name. It looked like she was about to form the letter L. I was as close as I could be to her without actually touching her. I tried to smell her, but I couldn’t; I tried to breathe her in, but I couldn’t.
She shook her head. “I don’t know who I was thinking about.”
I’m on the other side of life, Evey, existing where death belongs and yearning to be with you. Yearning in brief moments to bring you here, into the darkness. When my thoughts are so painfully selfish, I cannot breathe you in at all. I cannot love you when I hate myself. Don’t say my name. Don’t think about me. Don’t imagine how we can be together.
She walked through me, toward the living room. I buckled over in pain. It’s always painful when you’re standing in the way of the person you love, but I didn’t care; I wanted to feel her so badly.
A moment later, I was flying to the liquor store. Disguised as an old, bearded homeless man, I put a bottle on the counter.
“Expensive Scotch, wouldn’t you say? Where’d you get the money?” the clerk said.
I pulled my billfold from my back pocket. “None of your fucking business.” I handed him a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change, dickface.”
I went back to Evey’s and continued drinking on the steps until Joel and Keith, the two stupid apes, walked up and rang the buzzer.
Brooklyn answered, “We’ll be down in thirty seconds.”
Five minutes later, Evey and Brooklyn weren’t down yet. The apes were exchanging stories about “banging chicks”—their words, not mine—and I was drinking. No… I was guzzling. Joel and Keith’s angels were nearby. I could see them in the shadows. I wondered if I should make friends.
I stumbled over. Keith’s angel was a female wearing a kilt-like skirt. I could tell she belonged to Keith because of her proximity to him. I’ll get to that later—it’s complicated.