by Sharon Joss
CHAPTER 12
The next morning, after I dropped Mina off at school, I headed over to Mystic Properties for my mage stake-out. I called Rhys again, and listened to the phone ringing inside. Okay, nobody home. In a moment of clarity, I decided against leaving another message. The last thing I wanted to do was to make him think I was stalking him. Waiting for him to show up at work wasn’t the same thing at all.
Lance hadn’t called me back, so I called his partner at the shop.
“Sorry, Mattie. I don’t know where he is. He said he’d be back on Monday.”
“Did he tell you anything about, um, having any problems lately?” Doc and Lance had been friends for decades. When Lance got into trouble with the loan sharks the first time, he’d sold his half of the business to Doc. Once Lance got out of rehab, Doc agreed to let Lance buy back in, but only on the condition that he was done with gambling. If Lance was gambling again, he’d lose the business.
“You mean the ex-wife? No more than the usual. Hey, I gotta go, I got customers.”
I settled into my seat again to wait. Doing a stake-out from the only car parked on the block, made me feel a bit obvious. At this hour on the morning, the regular businesses were just starting to open, and there were plenty of parking spaces, except in front of the bakery and Henry’s Killer Burgers, which was open twenty-four hours. My stomach rumbled. I should have brought a thermos of coffee, at least. I adjusted the rearview mirror and studied the five demons in the backseat. A full day had passed since a new demon joined my little monster mouse club. Blix was definitely making independent movements now. His head and eyes followed my every move. Every time I looked in his direction, he stamped his front feet and licked his lips or eyeballs with that disturbing blue tongue.
To kill some time, I got out and strolled over to stare in the window again. I scanned the postcards advertising properties for rent. Most were commercial properties, but there were a few apartment rentals. With my landlady in the pokey. I might need a new place to live. As my eyes scrolled down the list of rentals, I spotted for the first time, gold lettering in the lower left corner of the front window: Hours by Appointment Only.
Oh crap. I fumed for a minute, debating my next move. Next door, Tacker Shoes was open. Tackers started out as a shoe repair shop, selling shoes on the side. Over the years, the business gave way to shoe sales, and now, Tacker’s was the only shoe store in Shore Haven. I walked in and found Bunny Tacker dusting the men’s dress shoe display. She greeted me with a glowing smile and welcoming hug. Bunny had always been a skinny thing in school, but she had gained weight since I’d seen her last.
“You look great,” I said.
“I got my boobs done.” She pulled up her t-shirt to show me the new ta-tas peeking out of a low-cut C-cup. “Best thing I ever did. Check this out.” She flashed a twinkle ring in front of me as well. “Ronnie and I are engaged.” Happiness seemed to bubble right out of her.
I squealed and oohed appropriately and made a fuss over her augmented appearance and upcoming nuptials. Okay, maybe I was just a teensy bit jealous, but ever since seventh grade, Bunny Tacker’s future with Ronnie Orozco had been a sure bet.
“Hell, maybe I need a boob job too.” I noted at the ‘Clearance Sale’ sign in the window. “What’s all this?”
She shrugged. “Oh, Dad’s selling the place. None of us kids are interested in taking the place over, and the land is worth more than the business now. He’s decided to retire and move down to Florida. Remember when my Mom slipped on the ice and broke her hip last winter? She’s fine, but terrified of falling again. They’re down in Clearwater now, looking at condos.”
“I’m glad your mom is doing better.” The displays of shoes and purses were sparsely populated. “Must be lots of businesses selling out to marina developers. I hear the Sand Castle is closing too.”
She made a face. “Not the same thing. Garr’s mismanaged the place, and Mad Otto is foreclosing out of spite. Garr may be a loser, but can you imagine foreclosing on your own family? Otto sold the restaurant out from under Garr. The place will be torn down pretty soon.”
I didn’t like hearing Bunny criticize my potential future boyfriend. Besides, how would she know? “I can’t imagine not having the Sand Castle around anymore. Or Tacker’s either, for that matter.”
“A lot of the big old estates along the Strand have been sold off, too. People are hoping the marina will revive the Shore, but Dad thinks Shore Haven is losing its soul. Pretty soon, regular folks like us won’t be able to afford to live here. The town will dissolve into a private seasonal getaway for the rich.”
“There’s still Shanghai Palace, and Henry’s Burgers. I can’t picture Shore Haven without them. Or the bakery either.”
“Yeah, they’ll do fine. But a lot of the old buildings have already been torn down to make room for banks. Most of the new businesses are either real estate or investment firms.”
“Hey, speaking of which, what’s with that place next door, Mystic Properties? Every time I walk by, they’re closed.”
“Oh, that’s Rhys; he’s a busy guy. Are you looking to move?” She looked hopeful. “Because I’m going to be moving in with Ronnie next month, and I’ve still got six months on my lease.”
Bunny is my friend, but also an incurable gossip, and I wasn’t about to tell her anything I didn’t need to.
“So what’s this Rhys guy like? How do I get hold of him?”
“It’s a two bedroom over in Webster.” She made a face. “I know, but the rent was cheap. And it has a garage. Why are you moving? Is it because of Patty? I would never have suspected her of being a demon master. Did you--”
“Actually, it’s for Lance,” I lied. “He is thinking of moving to a bigger place. He’s out of town; I told him I’d try to find something for him this week.”
“What are you talking about? Lance isn’t out of town, Ronnie and I saw him last night.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, a big crowd of us partied after hours at the Stick and Stein pool tournament. Lance was brilliant; I’d never seen him shoot before. Big-name players showed up from all over; Detroit, New York City, even Philadelphia. A lot of people lost money on those tables, but Lance wasn’t one of them. By the time we left, he had a wad on him the size of a baseball.”
I stared at her, unable to speak. He’d lied to me. No wonder he hadn’t called me back. What a-- Focus Mattie. I exhaled, and stomped all my fury back down. I couldn’t do anything about that now.
“Where I can find Rhys?”
“He eats lunch at the Amble Inn every day.”
“That dump? I can’t believe they’re still open.”
She laughed. “You know, the AI was the first bar I ever went to.” When we were in high school, Karen and Bunny and I used to sneak into the place on Tuesday nights for the cheap beer and college boys. She glanced at her watch. “Say, since I’m the boss this week, how about I close up for a bit, and take you over there for a Joe’s Special?”
“You’re on.”
The entrance to the AI was a few doors away, and as I followed Bunny into the gloom, I was assailed by the scent of hot dogs, stale peanuts, and several decades worth of alcohol fumes.
Time had not passed the AI unnoticed. It was still a dive bar, but had been remodeled at some point. Two large skylights brightened the place up, and a few booths had been added beneath the front windows. The décor was still early rope and marine hardware, but an electric train ran around the room near the ceiling, adding a touch of whimsy. Big-screen televisions loomed over the patrons, each screen tuned to a different sports event.
“Hey Herman,” Bunny called out to the bearded guy behind the bar. “Two Molsons and two specials.”
I followed her to the closest empty booth. We sat, and the man came around with a basket of unshelled peanuts and our beers.
“You’re early today,” he smiled at Bunny. “Be a minute on the specials. The cooker is almost ready.”
“Mattie this is Herman the German. Herman, this is my friend Mattie Blackman.”
“Ah, a pleasure to meet you.” He shook my hand. His grip, firm and strong, scored big points with me for not crunching my knuckles. His eyes twinkled, and he scampered back to the kitchen. I liked him.
“Ever since Herman took over, this place has become a gold mine.”
“I can tell. We got here at the right time.” The lunch crowd was already starting to arrive. We sipped our beers, and a few minutes later, the waitress came with our food, a pot of mustard and a wad of napkins.
“You need anything else?”
Bunny looked at me, and I shook my head. “Thanks Trina, we’re good.”
I eyed the heap of deep fried red hots, grilled onions, sauerkraut, and pickle, piled high between two slices of dark rye.
“How do I eat this?” My mouth watered; I wanted to get a bite in before another wave of stinkum showed up.
Bunny laughed, and slathered mustard on hers, then wrapped the bottom half in napkins.
“Very carefully,” she said, and took a big bite.
I copied her, and groaned with surprised delight as I bit into the juicy, greasy sandwich. I could actually taste it. Clearly, deep-fried hot dogs trumped demon-stink. I had just taken another luscious bite when Bunny pointed to two men standing at the bar. The older fellow, a clean-shaven pot-bellied professor-type, wore a tonsured wreath of grey hair around his bald pate. He spoke animatedly to a dark-haired biker dude with a Fu-Manchu moustache.
“That’s him. Hey Rhys, over here.”
To my surprise, biker dude turned and walked toward us. Rhys approached our table like a panther stalks prey: all muscled steel, sleek suntanned skin, and glitter-green eyes. He wore a sleeveless denim jacket over his naked torso, and scuffed, black leather chaps over black jeans. He moved casually, but I could see the shift and glide of powerful muscles with every step. Mesmerized, the only thoughts that came to my mind were animal magnetism and yum-mee.
Bunny made the introductions, and his eyes settled on my chest. I followed his eyes to a big splot of mustard on my shirt. Blushing furiously, I grabbed a napkin to wipe it off while trying to gulp down my mouthful of hot dog sandwich without choking.
“Um, hi,” I said, when I could almost talk.
His metallic green eyes flicked to the corner of the booth where Blix and the gang sat, then drained his beer in a single long swallow, and shook his head at me, as if contemplating what to say. Finally, he jerked his head toward the front door.
“Let’s go.”
