Page 23 of The Trick

I squint, taking in the strange looking piece of jewelry. It’s a simple titanium band, nothing to write home about but it’s the diamond, or where the diamond should be that draws my attention. Centered on the band is a pear-shaped piece of glass. Upon first glance it looks to be clear, but the more I stare at it, especially now that she is swirling the glass upward, I notice that the glass holds something red. Shifting to the edge of the barstool, I try to lean forward to get a better look, when she removes the freshly poured beer from beneath the tap.

“Here you go,” she says, placing the beer down on a coaster in front of where I sit.

I nod a thank you, bringing the boozy autumn nectar to my lips, taking a big gulp. As the beer begins to coat my throat, I continue to watch Glinda in my periphery, walking to the other side of the bar top, near the phone that’s hung on the wall.

Lifting the receiver to her ear, she looks my way for a moment before angling her back so that I can’t see the dial pad as she begins to press the buttons.

Typical Glinda, always so damn secretive.

Drinking the last of my beer, I can’t help but notice an abrupt softness wash over her, which isnottypical of her as she turns to face me. She begins noticeably fidgeting with the ring on her free hand before directing her unexpectedly glassy eyes to where mine are already glued on her. Bringing the mouthpiece of the phone inward, so it lays against her shoulder as she parts her lips to speak…to me.

“Be careful,” she mouths before bringing the mouthpiece back to her lips.

My brows fall to a straightened line that shifts my bangs. I don’t say anything back to her, because she is already speaking to whoever is on the other line. Taking this bizarre interaction as my cue to head to the dressing room, my hand skims my thigh harness as I begin to walk away from the bar, more thankful than ever that I never leave the house without a knife.

* * *

Unknown: Tsk tsk little hellcat, don’t you know it’s rude to throw away gifts

Me: Omg stop texting me from random numbers!

Unknown: I wouldn’t have to if you would stop blocking me

Me: The only thing I threw away was that lame note

Unknown: There’s nothing lame about the truth

Unknown: I know honesty is a foreign concept to you though

Unknown: If you throw away your next gift I’ll make you regret it

Me: I’d love to see you try…

Me: and do yourself a favor…cut the poetic shit. You want my fear? Give me something that will actually make me scream

Unknown: I plan on it…

Fuck, he is so irritating. Why I didn’t stab him when I had the chance, like I did with Ethan…and the reporter — reporters, plural—from earlier this week is beyond me.

My jaw tenses as I pace back and forth in the dressing room. The stupid costume contest will be starting soon, and I need to see Delilah. Aside from being my best friend, her and I have hooked up on and off throughout the years of our friendship so her presence and tell it like it is attitude are a total comfort to me, which I need right now…desperately.

Not that Maddox Crane scares me,please. The only reason Ilethim live is because I find being watched hot, but the second I’m bored…bye bye. Which might be tonight if he keeps up with these boring letters. However, I feel off my game for some reason ever since my interaction with Glinda before at the bar and tonight,of all nights, I need to be sharp as the knife I keep on me at all times.

I continue to pace in front of my vanity when I hear muffled voices from the other side of the door. Moving closer, I recognize one of the voices to be Delilah’s. I’m about to curl my hand around the knob to open it when the hinges begin to creak. I step back as waves of cerulean curls fill my vision as Delilah steps into thethreshold of the dressing room.

Her head is turned, facing the main room. “D–” I begin but I’m interrupted by her shouting back at Glinda.

“I said I got it, chill!” she shouts before turning to me. “Jesus Christ, Glinda is unbearable tonight,” she half laughs but I can tell something’s off. Delilah is usually the more poised out of the two of us. Even when Glinda irritates her, which is an almost nightly occurrence, I’ve never seen her look so tense talking to her. Closing the space between us, she presses her full lips against my cheek for a kiss. “You look hot, Blair Witch,” she breathes.

“Thanks D, so do you.” I move my hand to the small of her back, rubbing it slightly. “Everything good?” I ask.

“Yep, all good” she shrugs, flashing me a pearly white smile. She’s lying. I’ve known Delilah for a long time, and she rarely smiles like that and when she does, it’s usually to cover something.

Still skeptical, I arch my brows. “Right.”

“Anyway,” she deflects, walking in front of me toward our neighboring vanities. As her hips sway with her stride, a familiar scent wafts at my nose. I turn my attention to where she now places her tote bag on the floor.

I take a step closer, unintentionally peering into her bag when a black box with a white andspeckled redbow on itsteals my attention.

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