Except then she looked at Trez’s profile. His expression was tense, his brows down, his lips thin. He was staring at the back of the other female’s nearly shaved head, and Therese had the sense he was having some kind of conversation with her in his own mind.
One that maybe had a lot of cursing in it—
No, the voice repeated.
And that was when the meaning became clear. Somehow, he and this powerful female with the short hair and the dark gray eyes were not lovers. Never had been lovers. Never would be lovers.
The conviction was as rock-solid as it was incomprehensible—and, arguably, irrelevant. That Therese and he had just had sex, sharing what to her was an intimate act she did not take lightly, did not change the reality that they were nothing but acquaintances. Sure, their bodies had fused for a short, intense time. Yes, she was convinced for some crazy reason that she had dreamed of him. But in the cold light of—she glanced up at the ceiling… well, in the cold light of these fluorescent fixtures, none of that meant that their lives were any closer than they had been at the start of the night.
With a quick shift, the female—Xhex was the name, if she got it right—glanced over her shoulder as she led the way across the dance floor, staying far from the medics, the cops, and the groups of humans giving statements.
“The recovered stuff is back here,” she announced. “In one of my workrooms. The cops wanted to seal off everything. Treat this as a crime scene. Take evidence and pictures. But we are not going to allow that, of course.”
“Oh,” Therese said. Because she felt like she should say something, and the only thing occurring to her was, Holy shit, you people work here every night?
Trez shook his head as if he’d read her mind. Or maybe her expression wasn’t as composed as she thought it was.
“Like I said,” he muttered, “it doesn’t happen all that often.”
Once is enough for me, Therese thought.
“In here,” Xhex said as she opened a door.
Therese went inside and was surprised to find herself in what looked like an interrogation room: There was a broad metal table with four chairs around it, and nothing else but noise-canceling, egg-carton-like padding on the walls—and wait, were those chairs bolted down? She shook herself back into focus. On the table surface, there was a clutter of all kinds of personal belongings, clothes, glasses, jewelry—
“My purse,” she said as she leaned across the stuff. But she stopped before she touched anything. “Is it okay for me to pick it up?”
That female’s eyes were on her again, even before she asked her question. “Yeah. Help yourself.”
Therese grabbed her bag and yanked it open. There was nothing inside.
Closing her eyes, she cursed. The tip money. Her burner phone. But more than anything… the keys she had tried so hard to find at the beginning of the night.
Her parents’ keys.
Even as she told herself she shouldn’t care, she did.
“Is your wallet gone?” Trez said as he looked inside at all the absolutely-nothing. “Oh… shit.”
“It’s all right. The keys were the only thing that really mattered. But I’m going to miss that tip money, for sure.” She glanced over at him. “It was going to help me move, actually.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have the money?”
“Well, this blond member of the species came into the restaurant with his shellan? He ate like… I mean, almost the whole menu, and after he was comp’d by your brother, he left me this huge tip. It’s okay, though. I mean… what am I going to do?”
Xhex nodded. “The money’s probably long gone. Listen, I’ve got to get back to erasing memories. I’ll see you both later.”
With a nod, the female took her leave, and the door shut behind her. Left with Trez and the Lost ’n’ Found, Therese took a deep breath. And another.
For a brief moment, she considered asking if she could go and scour the dance floor in case she could locate those keys. Then she glanced back at the table. There were a couple of key rings scattered among the crap that had been lost, but none of them were hers.
“Well,” she said. And could go no further.
“I’m really sorry.”
As it was hard to know what he was apologizing for—the sex, even though it had been incredible? the strange connection, even though it had seemed so real? the shooting, even though she hadn’t been injured and it was hardly his fault?—she recognized that her head was in a total tangle, and the only cure for the condition was sleep.
Assuming she would be able to get any today, and not just on account of her noisy neighbors.
“So I’m going to head back home now.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes and had to force a smile. “Thanks for this—”
“I’m glad you came to see me. It was unexpected—I wish I’d known you were coming.”
“I—ah… I didn’t know this was your club, actually. Emile and I came here to calm down his girlfriend.”
Trez’s eyebrows lifted. “Emile. Has a girlfriend?”
* * *
Well, wasn’t this a happy piece of news, Trez thought. For that waiter. Because if the sonofabitch human was taken? It was going to dramatically improve his chances of seeing his next birthday.
“Yes, he’s dating a woman I work with.” Therese smoothed back the hair that was flowing over her shoulders. “Looks like I lost my clip, too.” She shook her head. “Anyway, yes, he’s with the dreaded Liza—although to be fair, I’m sure the girl’s mother probably loves her.”
“Is she giving you problems?”
Is she a problem I can solve for you, he thought to himself.
“No, not like you’re inferring. She’s just jealous.”
“Does she have reason to be?” Maybe his optimism was misplaced.
“No.” Those eyes, those beautiful pale eyes of hers, swung up and hung onto his stare. “There is no reason for her to be worried about me. Not on my end, at any rate. And I’ve made this clear to Emile.”
Trez tried to keep his smile to himself. Failed miserably. “Well.”
As Therese flushed, she went back to looking at the personal effects that had been thrown on the table. “Yeah, so the plan was for him and me to come talk to her. Calm her down. She was drunk and… whatever. It’s not my problem.”
He was more than happy to change the subject. “So you were going to move? Thanks to that tip?”
And P.S., there was only one blond male that Trez could think of who would eat so much that a security deposit’s worth of a tip would be warranted.
“Yup, I was going to ask you about the rental.”
“It’s still available,” he rushed to point out.
“And I’m broke again.” Therese took a defeated breath, but she didn’t wallow in any kind of poor-me. “It’s just a setback, though. A delay. It’ll happen.”
She put her purse on the table and reached inside to unzip a pocket. Taking out a cell phone that was not turned on, she shook her head. “At least they didn’t get this. Maybe because it’s dead. Or they just missed it.”
t then she looked at Trez’s profile. His expression was tense, his brows down, his lips thin. He was staring at the back of the other female’s nearly shaved head, and Therese had the sense he was having some kind of conversation with her in his own mind.
One that maybe had a lot of cursing in it—
No, the voice repeated.
And that was when the meaning became clear. Somehow, he and this powerful female with the short hair and the dark gray eyes were not lovers. Never had been lovers. Never would be lovers.
The conviction was as rock-solid as it was incomprehensible—and, arguably, irrelevant. That Therese and he had just had sex, sharing what to her was an intimate act she did not take lightly, did not change the reality that they were nothing but acquaintances. Sure, their bodies had fused for a short, intense time. Yes, she was convinced for some crazy reason that she had dreamed of him. But in the cold light of—she glanced up at the ceiling… well, in the cold light of these fluorescent fixtures, none of that meant that their lives were any closer than they had been at the start of the night.
With a quick shift, the female—Xhex was the name, if she got it right—glanced over her shoulder as she led the way across the dance floor, staying far from the medics, the cops, and the groups of humans giving statements.
“The recovered stuff is back here,” she announced. “In one of my workrooms. The cops wanted to seal off everything. Treat this as a crime scene. Take evidence and pictures. But we are not going to allow that, of course.”
“Oh,” Therese said. Because she felt like she should say something, and the only thing occurring to her was, Holy shit, you people work here every night?
Trez shook his head as if he’d read her mind. Or maybe her expression wasn’t as composed as she thought it was.
“Like I said,” he muttered, “it doesn’t happen all that often.”
Once is enough for me, Therese thought.
“In here,” Xhex said as she opened a door.
Therese went inside and was surprised to find herself in what looked like an interrogation room: There was a broad metal table with four chairs around it, and nothing else but noise-canceling, egg-carton-like padding on the walls—and wait, were those chairs bolted down? She shook herself back into focus. On the table surface, there was a clutter of all kinds of personal belongings, clothes, glasses, jewelry—
“My purse,” she said as she leaned across the stuff. But she stopped before she touched anything. “Is it okay for me to pick it up?”
That female’s eyes were on her again, even before she asked her question. “Yeah. Help yourself.”
Therese grabbed her bag and yanked it open. There was nothing inside.
Closing her eyes, she cursed. The tip money. Her burner phone. But more than anything… the keys she had tried so hard to find at the beginning of the night.
Her parents’ keys.
Even as she told herself she shouldn’t care, she did.
“Is your wallet gone?” Trez said as he looked inside at all the absolutely-nothing. “Oh… shit.”
“It’s all right. The keys were the only thing that really mattered. But I’m going to miss that tip money, for sure.” She glanced over at him. “It was going to help me move, actually.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have the money?”
“Well, this blond member of the species came into the restaurant with his shellan? He ate like… I mean, almost the whole menu, and after he was comp’d by your brother, he left me this huge tip. It’s okay, though. I mean… what am I going to do?”
Xhex nodded. “The money’s probably long gone. Listen, I’ve got to get back to erasing memories. I’ll see you both later.”
With a nod, the female took her leave, and the door shut behind her. Left with Trez and the Lost ’n’ Found, Therese took a deep breath. And another.
For a brief moment, she considered asking if she could go and scour the dance floor in case she could locate those keys. Then she glanced back at the table. There were a couple of key rings scattered among the crap that had been lost, but none of them were hers.
“Well,” she said. And could go no further.
“I’m really sorry.”
As it was hard to know what he was apologizing for—the sex, even though it had been incredible? the strange connection, even though it had seemed so real? the shooting, even though she hadn’t been injured and it was hardly his fault?—she recognized that her head was in a total tangle, and the only cure for the condition was sleep.
Assuming she would be able to get any today, and not just on account of her noisy neighbors.
“So I’m going to head back home now.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes and had to force a smile. “Thanks for this—”
“I’m glad you came to see me. It was unexpected—I wish I’d known you were coming.”
“I—ah… I didn’t know this was your club, actually. Emile and I came here to calm down his girlfriend.”
Trez’s eyebrows lifted. “Emile. Has a girlfriend?”
* * *
Well, wasn’t this a happy piece of news, Trez thought. For that waiter. Because if the sonofabitch human was taken? It was going to dramatically improve his chances of seeing his next birthday.
“Yes, he’s dating a woman I work with.” Therese smoothed back the hair that was flowing over her shoulders. “Looks like I lost my clip, too.” She shook her head. “Anyway, yes, he’s with the dreaded Liza—although to be fair, I’m sure the girl’s mother probably loves her.”
“Is she giving you problems?”
Is she a problem I can solve for you, he thought to himself.
“No, not like you’re inferring. She’s just jealous.”
“Does she have reason to be?” Maybe his optimism was misplaced.
“No.” Those eyes, those beautiful pale eyes of hers, swung up and hung onto his stare. “There is no reason for her to be worried about me. Not on my end, at any rate. And I’ve made this clear to Emile.”
Trez tried to keep his smile to himself. Failed miserably. “Well.”
As Therese flushed, she went back to looking at the personal effects that had been thrown on the table. “Yeah, so the plan was for him and me to come talk to her. Calm her down. She was drunk and… whatever. It’s not my problem.”
He was more than happy to change the subject. “So you were going to move? Thanks to that tip?”
And P.S., there was only one blond male that Trez could think of who would eat so much that a security deposit’s worth of a tip would be warranted.
“Yup, I was going to ask you about the rental.”
“It’s still available,” he rushed to point out.
“And I’m broke again.” Therese took a defeated breath, but she didn’t wallow in any kind of poor-me. “It’s just a setback, though. A delay. It’ll happen.”
She put her purse on the table and reached inside to unzip a pocket. Taking out a cell phone that was not turned on, she shook her head. “At least they didn’t get this. Maybe because it’s dead. Or they just missed it.”