by Sarah Kuhn
I had no idea what she was up to, but it didn’t matter. She was about to put the entire party in danger and I had to stop her. I sprinted up to the stage and grabbed her arm, trying to wrest the microphone free.
“Come with me right now,” I said, projecting my trademark authority. “I’ll give you a chance to explain—”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Aveda Jupiter!” Maisy shook free from my grasp, skittered away from me, and pointed that accusatory finger at me yet again. “Look at her!” she screeched. “My intrepid bridal commenters were right, she is trying to take all the wedding attention! Trying to take the spotlight from Evie!”
I whipped around to face the crowd, to calm them and tell them not to be alarmed, I had this Maisy threat under control. But when I saw their faces, I realized I’d grossly miscalculated what the reaction would be.
No one was looking at Maisy. Everyone was looking at me. And they all looked varying degrees of confused.
I remembered then that I was wearing nothing but bridal lingerie. Evie’s bridal lingerie.
“Stealing the gift I made especially for Evie for herself!” Maisy spat out. “I knew she was acting shady, so like the ace reporter that I am, I went and investigated the gift table and my contribution was nowhere to be found.” Maisy pressed a fluttery hand against her chest, as if this was the most upsetting thing imaginable. “And that’s not even the worst of it . . .” Maisy grabbed my hand sporting the plastic ruby and held it up. “She’s secretly engaged!” I was too shell-shocked to pull away from her. The crowd remained silent, as if they couldn’t even begin to comprehend the breadth of my self-aggrandizing nature.
“Annie . . . ?” Evie said uncertainly.
“And!” Maisy bellowed, her glowing eyes settling on something behind me. “She has this hidden up here onstage!” She stepped around me and dragged the big trash bag from its cream linen hiding place. I noticed then that the linen had fallen away from it a bit and the bag was gaping open, exposing the brightly colored collection within. And Maisy must have spotted it.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Without further ado, Maisy upended the bag, dumping a rainbow cornucopia of sex toys all over the stage.
Now the party guests weren’t so silent. Scandalized murmurs rippled through the crowd. And though I couldn’t make out the exact words, I was pretty sure none of them were complimentary toward me.
“I mean, what was she going to do with all this?” Maisy crowed, gesturing expansively to the sex toys and condoms. “Bring them out and embarrass poor Evie, I bet! Ruin the party, get all the attention for herself, and take Evie’s place as San Francisco’s favorite bride. Not that that’s even possible.”
“That’s not what I’m doing!” I snapped. I moved toward Maisy, tripped over a stray vibrator, and hastily used my telekinesis to move it out of the way. “But as for whatever you’re trying to do: it’s over. We’re onto you.”
Maisy danced out of my way, then stopped and cocked her head to the side. “What?”
“Give up!” I said, trying to sound forceful as I attempted to maneuver my way around the minefield of sex toys. They just kept rolling into my path, forcing me to stumble around and hop over them like a hapless character in a videogame. I managed to grab on to a few of them with my mental feathers, but I still felt clumsy, awkward. “Hand over the puppy demon and let us take you into custody!”
Maisy’s gray brow crinkled. “Puppy? Aveda Jupiter, you have really gone off the deep end this time.”
I stopped trying to maneuver my way around the dildos and looked at her—really looked at her. And that’s when I realized she had no fucking clue what I was talking about.
Unless she was a phenomenally good actress and an evil mastermind who had absolutely zero desire to gloat about her evil plan and take me down and all of that seemed . . . unlikely. I looked down at the lingerie. It wasn’t doing anything. Except sitting on my body. It was just freaking lingerie.
Evie’s lingerie.
Evie stepped onstage and planted herself in front of me, arms crossed over her chest, her face a mix of confusion and concern.
“Annie,” she said slowly. “What’s going on?”
“You . . . you heard what’s going on,” I said. “Apparently we were wrong about Maisy.” I gestured toward Maisy, who was now off to the side of the stage and locked in furious conversation with Lucy, trying to make sense of everything. Unfortunately, no one else was doing the same. No, the rest of the party was still staring at me and Evie, facing off, surrounded by a cavalcade of sex toys.
“I got that,” she said, “but I don’t understand . . .” She gestured up and down my body. “ . . . this. Why are you wearing that? And what’s this about you being engaged?”
“I can explain everything,” I said, holding up my hands. “Just give me a chance—”
“I know people have been saying stuff about you online and I haven’t believed any of it,” she said, her voice going dangerously quiet. “But are you . . .” She looked at the lingerie again. “ . . . are you not getting enough recognition for your maid-of-honor duties? Because—”
“That is not it,” I said firmly. “I was trying to take care of the puppy demon plan while you enjoyed the party—”
“That was not the plan,” she said, shaking her head. “The plan was for us to take care of it together—”
“But you were so worried!” I protested. “You thought it was going to try to control you and—”
“And that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it,” she said, drawing herself up tall. Anger sparked in her eyes. “I’m more than capable of overcoming my fear and dealing with whatever we’re up against. I’m a superhero now—”
“Now! But that’s a recent development and I know you’ve had some nerves about it. I have way more years on the job, more experience—”
“Which you never hesitate to remind me of—”
“And it’s up to me to protect you!” I interrupted, determined to get her to see my point. That I’d done all of this because I cared about her. “I thought it would be best for you if—”
“Best for me?!” Evie looked at me incredulously. “You’re not my mother, Aveda. And I think I’ve more than proven I don’t need you to protect me.” She glared at me. “If you wanted to change the plan, you could have talked to me—like a mature adult. Like you think I’m a mature adult. Instead of just deciding all of this by yourself. We’re supposed to be equal partners in this whole superheroing endeavor. But . . .” She studied me intently, her gaze like a laser cutting through my skin. I shifted uncomfortably. “ . . . that’s really not okay with you, is it? Nothing’s okay with you unless you’re the star and I’m the sidekick.”
I shook my head, unable to think of how to respond. My gaze slid toward Bea and I gave her a little nod. Maybe we could get Evie to calm down and I could explain my position without her interrupting or getting upset or—
“Bea!” Evie shrieked. She whipped around and glared at her sister. “Stop it! I . . . I know that’s you, trying to calm me down and I don’t want to be calm right now, I don’t want—”
“Sorry!” Bea cried. “Aveda and I were just trying to—”
“Aveda!” Evie turned back to me. “You’re doing this, too? Getting my own sister to control me?”
“Not control,” I said. “Soothe. You’ve been so stressed out about the wedding and the puppy demon and—”
“And this isn’t the first time, is it?” Evie said, realization dawning in her eyes. “You’ve . . . you’ve been doing this for weeks now? That’s why I was so weirdly giggly earlier. Why my moods have been swinging all over the place since I got engaged . . .” The anger seemed to drain from her in an instant, her shoulders slumping. And slowly, her burgeoning rage was replaced with something much worse.
Sadness. Disappointment. Defeat.
“You know,”
she said quietly. “Everyone said it was a mistake to make you my maid of honor. That you would try to make it all about you, that you would never be okay not being the center of attention, that you would try to pull some stunt . . .” She drifted off, shaking her head, then met my eyes. “I kept insisting that you wouldn’t. That things were different now. That underneath all the drama, you’re so loyal and generous and we’ve finally worked everything out between us and you were the one I wanted standing next to me . . .” Her voice caught and she pressed her lips together in a thin line, fighting back tears. I was too numb to cry.
“I think you should go,” she finally said.
I didn’t know what to do, what to say. My mind had gone totally blank. Silence blanketed the air and everyone was still staring at me. I couldn’t bear to look at my parents. At a loss for what else to do, I fell to my knees and started shoving sex toys back into the garbage bag. It was the only goal that seemed achievable at the moment. I was dimly aware of Scott sidling up to me, wrapping his jacket around my shoulders, and gently tugging me to my feet.
“Come on,” he murmured.
I shuffled next to him, my mind still blank, tuning out the eyes that were still on me, the murmurs that started up as I headed for the exit, whispers about this complete fucking disaster of a party. When we finally got outside, the cold night air hit me in the face, waking me up a bit. Scott’s jacket was still wrapped around me. And I was clutching the bag of sex toys in one hand like a talisman, gripping so hard, my knuckles turned white.
“So,” I said. “I guess Maisy isn’t evil. And the puppy demon isn’t possessing my underwear. And maybe I fucked things up so badly, none of it matters, because nobody will ever talk to me again.”
Scott rested his hands on my shoulders. “Why don’t we go home?” he said.
I took a deep breath, trying to get my wits back about me. I focused only on the present, not allowing any thoughts about what had just happened into my brain.
“I’ll go,” I said. “You need to get back in there and see if there’s any of the party that can be salvaged.”
He frowned. “Maybe you should try to talk to Evie—”
“No.” The word escaped my throat in a strangled sob. I shoved my tears down, determined not to cry. “No,” I said more steadily. “I think that’s a pretty terrible idea right now, and I’d rather not add on to the parade of terrible ideas already implemented tonight.”
“You can’t walk home like that,” he said, motioning to my underwear/suit jacket combo.
“Go back inside and get me my dress. I’ll wait out here.”
He gave me a skeptical look.
“I’ll telekinesis and/or beat up anyone who looks at me funny,” I added.
He shook his head. “Annie . . .”
“Please.” I pulled away from him and gathered the jacket more tightly around me. “I know you want to say something that will make it better, but there’s nothing you can say. I had two missions tonight, I fucked both of them up, and I really, really need to be alone right now.”
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but finally gave up, nodded, and went back inside.
And I was alone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WHEN I’D DONE the walk of shame down those rickety treehouse steps so many years ago, I’d thought it was surely the most embarrassing version of such a thing I’d ever experience.
Now, as I tromped through San Francisco wearing my rumpled dress and carrying a giant garbage bag full of condoms and sex toys, I realized that was patently untrue. This was definitely the worst walk of shame ever. And I hadn’t even had sex beforehand.
I couldn’t believe that a night that was supposed to end in triumph had actually ended with me having a huge fight with my best friend on a grotty karaoke stage in my underwear and that my parents had witnessed the whole thing.
Forget being a Bad Chinese American Daughter. I was an Embarrassing, Exhibitionist, Totally Delusional Chinese American Daughter. That definitely wasn’t making it into the Christmas newsletter.
I continued my death march toward HQ, my big bag o’ dildos smacking against my hip as I walked, as if punctuating every step with a mocking chant.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
I let the chant take over as I stomped. The chant drowned out any coherent thoughts threatening to worm their way into my brain. Why was I still holding on to this stupid bag of sex toys, anyway? I guess it had seemed like dumping them outside the bar for guests to eyeball on their way out would only add insult to the injury of an already terrible party. Also, my death grip on the bag gave me a tenuous hold on the real world. The grip, the bounce of the bag against my hip, the chant . . . those were the only things keeping me tethered here instead of sinking into a neverending spiral of guilt and regret.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
I chanted for a few blocks, breathing out the word over and over again. It kept me focused.
Until I saw something that made me grind to a complete halt.
I only noticed it because of the light spilling out from the big front window, casting a golden glow onto the street. It was such a contrast to the other businesses on the block, which were all darkened and shuttered for the night.
I stopped abruptly and stared, homing in on the shop. It was Marcus Wong’s boutique—and the window display had changed. The bloody warriors from before had been replaced by a solitary mannequin, positioned dead center. It stood there, facing front, arms resting at its sides. A lone figure against a simple background of pure white. It took me a moment to process what it was wearing. An ivory dress cut in that signature dramatic mermaid shape the designer favored. And peppered with tiny red flowers.
I blinked. I felt like cold water had been dumped over my head. It was just like Evie’s dress, I was sure of it. But how had it gotten there? It had been destroyed, and Marcus was so adamant it was a failed experiment anyway and . . . and . . . and . . .
My brain short-circuited, stuck on a single word again. Unable to process anything further. I had to get a closer look. This was too weird. Nothing made sense. And I felt the burning need to make it make sense. To somehow, against all odds, still have this night end in triumph. That need consumed me, overwhelmed everything else, blocked out all common sense and logic, and I found myself walking over to the door and turning the knob. Somehow this dress was the key to the puppy demon drama that had been vexing us—and I was going to prove it.
I don’t know what my plan was if it had been locked or if an alarm sounded or if police had showed up right then and there to arrest the city’s original (but currently very unpopular) superheroine. Luckily the door was unlocked, and I walked in with no trouble at all. I didn’t even think about how odd this was, a fancy boutique that was clearly closed for the night being unlocked and unguarded. I was too focused on the need to make things right. To save the day. To be the heroine I kept claiming I was.
I dumped my dildos by the door and climbed into the window display, approaching the dress trepidatiously. It just sat there, icy and beautiful and still. I reached out a finger to touch it, then jumped back, as if it were about to bite me.
Nothing. It was doing nothing. It was just a dress.
But . . . no. It couldn’t be just a dress. How could it be just a dress? Something weird was going on here and this dress was the key. And I had to prove it. I had to redeem myself. I had to show everyone that I was Aveda Jupiter, dammit, and I was going to solve this entire mystery and save the city.
I reached out with shaking hands and unzipped the back.
I at least had the wherewithal to move from the window area and into a section of the boutique floor hidden from outside view, so I wouldn’t flash the entire city. I kicked off my heels, feeling the plush red carpet between my toes. There was a strange sense of reverence as I pulled the dress over Maisy’s bridal lingerie. Maybe it was the eerie silen
ce of the store, maybe it was the feel of the soft chiffon on my skin, maybe it was the idea that what I was doing was so momentous, it was going to solve our puppy demon dilemma once and for all. Whatever it was, it made time slow to a crawl, amplified the soft swooshing sounds as the material settled on my frame, caused the air to take on a sudden chill.
As I drew up the zipper, the long, drawn-out shhhhhh sound seemed particularly ominous. I turned and faced myself in the mirror.
“Come on,” I murmured to the dress. “Do your worst.”
Then I waited.
And waited.
The silence seemed to thicken around me, pressing against my skin, making the dress feel heavy and cumbersome. But it wasn’t doing anything. Just like the lingerie hadn’t done anything.
Fuck. Had I been wrong again? Was I really that far off my superheroing game? At least this time there was no one to witness it.
“Oh, Annie Chang,” I said to my reflection. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I reached around for the zipper, ready to grab my stupid bag of dildos and go the fuck home and never tell anyone about this . . . when I felt it. The sharpest, most intense pain I’d ever experienced. Stabbing directly into my side, as if someone had appeared out of nowhere and knifed me with an entire butcher block of sharp objects.
“Oh . . . god . . .” I screamed, falling to my knees. I clutched my ribs. It was like a knife made of fire. And it was expanding by the second, an incredibly painful fungus overtaking my entire torso. I felt like I was about to go up in flames on the spot.
“Shit,” I wheezed. I grappled for the zipper of the dress, clawing at it with both hands. The pain in my side morphed, as if the knife made of fire was growing and twisting, and I slumped to the floor entirely. Stars danced in front of my eyes and I felt like I was going to pass out.
No, I thought. Breathe through it, goddamit.
“You’re not going to get me, you stupid fucking thing,” I screamed. The pain twisted again, as if in response. Now it felt like it was wrapped around my whole body, or worse, like it had seeped through my skin and was twisting every single one of my internal organs into the most unnatural shape possible.
