Page 48 of She is the Darke

Instead, she led with a compliment. “I love your outfit!”

The tall, striking woman stood there frozen, staring unblinking at Stacia. “It’s really you.”

“Yeeep,” she drawled out. This lady was a little strange. “It’s really me.”

The woman, her name tag readAlex, blinked hard and forced a smile. “I’m so sorry, you just look identical to someone I know.” The smile faded. “Knew. It’s uncanny how much you look like her.”

“What happened to her?” Stacia scrunched up her face. “I’m sorry, that’s rude of me. I always do this thing where I get curious over every stranger and I’ve overstepped my mounds more than I can even count.”

Alex frowned. “You mean overstepped your bounds?”

“Bounds? Is that how the saying goes? I thought it was like…I stepped over too many mounds and didn’t respect personal space. I do that too. I’m a hugger and I’ve been trying to work on not standing too close to people when I talk. You’re very lucky this counter is in between us.”

“She died. A long time ago. She was a very dear friend. A sister, almost.”

“Ooooh my gosh,” Stacia whispered, fighting the urge to march right around that counter and scoop her up in a back-cracking hug.

There was an awkward moment of silence as Alex stared at her with those unsettling green eyes. And then the plastered smile was back and she said, “Are you here to check in?”

“Yes! Yes. I’m Stacia Wallace.”

“Stacia,” she repeated in a whisper as she typed something into her computer. “There you are. Room one sixty-nine.”

“Ha. Sixty-nine.”

Alex pursed her lips. Perhaps she didn’t like dirty jokes, but Stacia just hoped she was trying to stay professional in the workplace, because people who liked dirty jokes were her kinda crew.

Alex turned and reached for a set of keys on the row of hooks behind the counter, and that’s when Stacia saw it. Alex had horrific scarring down the back of her bare arm.

“What happened to you?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Shit. Sorry.”

Alex brought back the keys and handed them to her, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. Stacia felt awful. This woman’s life wasn’t some open book for her to read, and she tried to remember all of the things she’d learned about censoring herself.

This crap right here was why she was still single. Impulse control had never been an easy thing for Stacia.

“Animal attack,” Alex said, her eyes locked intensely on Stacia like she was gauging her reaction.

“Oh. I fell in the meercat exhibit at the zoo when I was eight and did you know those little suckers can bite when they are frightened? I still have a little scar.” She hiked up her ringmaster skirts and pried the diamond of her fishnet tights apart over the almost-microscopic scar that remained on her knee. “We’re practically twins.”

Alex laughed. “You’re funny.”

“You mispronounced awkward, but thank you.” She strode toward the hallway under an old staircase where her room would be, but turned suddenly.

Alex was holding a landline to her ear and dialing a number very fast.

“Hey Alex?” she asked.

Alex looked startled and settled the phone against her collar bone. “Yes?”

“I only brought this costume and one more, because this was a last-minute trip and I didn’t have time to order anything. I want to do festival week right.”

“A different costume every day?”

“Yes. I know it’s weird, but—”

“It’s not weird. I do the same thing.”

“Oh.” Alex didn’t know it yet, but Stacia was probably going to swindle her into being friends. “Well, do you know any costume shops that are close?”

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