Page 45 of Bad Luck Club

“Let me go back inside and talk to them, okay?” she pleaded. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He didn’t feel like walking down that narrow, winding road, and she had the keys. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. So he said nothing, which she must have taken as a grudging agreement.

She hurried back in and emerged about a minute later, the older man with her, sans cape and hood.

Lee’s back stiffened. He had no desire to speak to the guy.

The man extended his hand. “Bear Reynolds, the ringleader and instigator of what you just walked in on.”

Lee stared at his extended hand still hanging in the air. He nearly ignored it, but the man seemed genuine, so he grasped it and shook.

“Blueberry told me that you thought we might be a cult, so we all thought it would be funny for you to…well,” he said with a small shrug. “You get the rest…”

While he felt like ripping into Bear, telling him exactly what he thought about his little prank, the affection in Blue’s eyes as she stared at the older man told him she’d likely never forgive him if he was rude. “I appreciate the explanation”—was it an apology?—“but I think what happened tells me everything I need to know about your…group. I understand that part of seeking help is finding the process that fits you best, but I just don’t think this is it for me.”

“Give us another chance,” Bear said. “See what the group’s all about, and if you’re still not interested at the end of the meeting, we’ll go our separate ways. No hard feelings.”

He was tempted to say no, to insist that Blue take him home, but something told him that if he didn’t even pretend to try, it would put an end to whatever was going on between him and Blue.

He didn’t want that, and not just because he wanted her. The connection he’d felt to her last night had shocked him, which made him think this was more than a hormonal rebound after Victoria. He wanted her around while he worked it out, and the best way to be around her, in the short term, was to attend this meeting. He could suck it up and deal with these lunatics for an hour or two. “Okay.”

Relief washed over Blue’s face. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

She shot a warning look at Bear, but the older man ignored her. “Come on in and meet the gang.”

Lee reluctantly followed him inside, with Blue falling into step beside him.

“So much for not throwing me to the wolves,” he muttered, then walked inside.

Maybe he should try to forget about this woman who made creatures out of nothing more than yarn and her imagination, but he suspected he could no sooner do that than he could forget his own name. Maybe he could ask her out for coffee after this was through. Or for some other “normal” date that didn’t include talking about his deepest insecurities.

The previously cape-clad group were now wearing street clothes, but the cauldron hadn’t been taken away, and a woman who looked to be in her late thirties was ladling deep red liquid into a paper cup decorated with a dancing skeleton. She had on a loose, long-sleeved gray T-shirt and dark gray yoga pants, and not a stitch of makeup. Dark circles underscored her eyes, her hair was piled into a messy bun, and she appeared in desperate need of a nap.

A tall, lanky man with wire-rimmed glasses and a buzz cut that looked so fresh his scalp was pale from lack of sun exposure was pulling a dark sheet from the window, grumbling to himself, “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

“Shut it, Harry.” The speaker was an older woman with bright red hair and a very round body. She was wearing a housedress, and her arms were crossed over her ample bosom as she gave Buzzcut, aka Harry, a disapproving look. “You think you know everything…onlyafterthe fact.”

“Augusta,” said a dark-haired man who looked to be thirty or so. His tone was soft, yet it held a note of warning.

Augusta glanced over at the door, took one look at Lee, and blushed a bright red.

“Let’s try this again,” Bear said, standing in the middle of what Lee could now see was a living room. “Welcome to the Bad Luck Club. Everyone introduce yourselves while we tidy up.”

“Come and get yourself some refreshments,” said Bobbed Hair at the cauldron. “We have hummus and naan bread. Blood orange muffins. A veggie tray, and”—her nose scrunched in disgust—“store-bought brownies.”

“I’m sorry if brownies don’t qualify as ‘cult food,’” said a short woman in a long flannel shirt and black leggings, using air quotes and plenty of attitude. Her dishwater blond hair was in dreads, the tips dyed a fading pink. A silver hoop was pierced into the right side of her nose. “How was I supposed to know? Besides, Bear only sent out the email this morning, and I was still at work.”

Was she old enough to have a job? She looked like she was a teenager.

“Everyone usually brings a snack food,” Blue said, glancing up at Lee, still looking worried.

“Huh.” He noticed she didn’t have one. Did a human tribute count as an accepted substitute?

“I’m Dee, by the way,” said the woman with the bun, walking toward him with the cup in her hand. “And the surly, unimaginative one is Nicole.”

Nicole’s scowl deepened.

“Don’t mind her. She’s young yet. She’ll learn which foods are appropriate for cult initiations and whatnot.” When she saw Lee’s eyes widen, she said, “Sorry if we scared you. We’re a good group, but wedolike to have a little fun.”

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