Page 147 of Wicked Dreams

His words from my first day of school come back to me.

Margo Wolfe. Haven’t you heard? I’m king now.

What does that make me? Queen—or joker?

Chapter 33

Margo

“Afair lace mask for the pretty girl?”

I glance up at the shop owner. He’s been hovering, pointing at various costumes and accessories. None have been quite right. Although, I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for. I don’t have a dress, and Caleb, who seemed to have a plan, has disappeared.

The shop owner holds out a delicate, pale-pink mask. It’s meant to cover half the face, not both eyes.

“No.” Caleb comes up behind him. “I found it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Where is it?”

“You have to wait outside.” He grins. “I’m going to buy it either way, but I think it’ll be better if it’s a surprise.”

“Seriously?”

The shop owner appraises us.

Caleb narrows his eyes at me. “Out.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m going to get coffee.”

I leave the shop, contemplating circling back and trying to get a glimpse of whatever Caleb is buying. Instead, I resist the urge and cross the street. There’s a cute little coffee shop directly across from the costume shop.

Playing nice, I order myself a latte and Caleb a black coffee.

We were both obsessed with tasting coffee when we were young. It never failed to wrinkle our noses. But at the time, coffee was synonymous with caffeine. And what better way to help two ten-year-olds stay up past their bedtimes than caffeine? It never affected me much, but it didn’t fail to make Caleb bounce off the walls.

I shake the memory out of my head. Caleb enters the shop, and a paper bag dangles from his fingertips.

“I got you a coffee,” I tell him.

“Is this bribery?”

“No.” I roll my eyes. “Not everything has a string attached.”

He shrugs. “You’d be surprised.”

The barista calls my name. I grab both cups, and we find a table. We sit and drink it, and I try my hardest not to even look in the direction of the bag. It’s tempting, though. My curiosity burns bright.

He glances at his watch and straightens. “We have to go. My appointment is soon.”

“You said you had to sign papers? For what?”

“Just boring business stuff.”

“For your dad?—?”

He rubs his eye. “Can we go ten minutes without questions?”

He doesn’t say please, but I imagine the plea chasing his request.

---