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“She wasn’t in a good place to have kids,” I say. That seems more than fair.
“Oh.”
Wendy’s staring at her sour vine. Then, all at once, she takes this massive bite of it, like she’s a hawk and she’s caught it in her talons like prey.
“The fuck is that sound?”
I snap my head up, hearing everything all at once: footsteps on the spiral stairs, plus the insane rattling of the kettle on the countertop.
“Oh, it’s—”
I jump up, vaulting over the coffee table toward the kitchenette just as Pan arrives on the floor.
“Just making some ramen,” I explain, bopping down the switch on the kettle handle and messing around with the bowls and spoons and little flavoring packets. “And, uh, having some candy.”
Pan grunts. “Great. Whatever.”
“I’m…trying to make Wendy feel better,” I add, in a lower tone of voice. “After, you know, everything.”
“Good idea.”
“Thanks.” Water off, I turn to face him. “How was the—”
I blink. He’s—
“Um, Pan?” comes Wendy’s voice from the couch. “Why are you all wet?”
CHAPTER 11
PAN
“Why are you all wet?”
Blue looks surprised. Or he looks his version of surprised, which is baseline expression plus a single twitch of the eyebrow.
“Shut up,” I answer, and push past him into his room. Hopefully I’m not interrupting him beating off, or whatever, but on second thought, I don’t really care. Wouldn’t be the first time, anyway.
Blue grunts, but he doesn’t throw me out. As usual, it’s dark as a fucking cave in here, save the delicate little glow of the light strips he’s arranged on the walls and around his, uh, set. I skip the couch and drop right on his bed, hoping that he’s bothered to wash the sheets recently given what he gets up to in here—but, no, who am I kidding? This anal-retentive motherfucker’s probably doing a full load twice a week.
Heh, load.
“You smell like a goddamn Señor Frog’s,” he murmurs as he shuts the door.
“I’ll be taking that as a compliment, thanks,” I say, putting my hands behind my head.
“Can you be taking your shoes off while you’re at it?”
I roll my eyes at the ceiling, but pivot my legs so I can toe off my boots at the edge of the mattress. “You into that now?” I wiggle a foot at him.
“I’m into not having dirt tracked all over my bedroom.”
“Sexy.” I let the boots fall with a one-two clunk. Then just lie there a second, staring up at nothing. At blackness.
What am I supposed to do now?
Plan A was go to Krye. No dice. Plan B was to…well, to sulk at the Lagoon and lick my wounds a little, possibly with some nice Mermaids to help with the licking part. But apparently they’re being all immature and throwing drinks in my face.
So now…
