Page 60 of The Deer and the Dragon
The town was small enough that it took only two stoplights and three turns before I pulled into a spot directly in front of the bakery. She stepped out the moment I put the car in park. “Wait, your hat!”
“Nah.” She shook her head, peering through the crack in the door as she bent over to wink at me. “They weren’t nice to you here, and you look great today. I think we should give your small town something to talk about.”
My fingers and toes tingled as if I’d been injected with Novocain. I struggled to get my breathing under control as I fumbled with my belt. My gut told me no, but it was hard toargue with her logic. I’d dressed up because I wanted to make a statement.
The glass bakery door squeaked open on ungreased hinges. I led the way and walked directly to the counter, not realizing our mistake until forks clattered to their plates and conversation halted around us. Fauna looped her arm around mine and smiled at the person working the cash register before saying, “How many cream-filled doughnuts can I order before it’s inappropriate?”
The cashier’s eyes were too wide, mouth too open, lips too slicked with drool as he stared at her with his blank, catfish-like gaze.
I decided that we’d already committed to the bit, so I might as well double down. I tightened my grip around her arm and flashed a smile of my own.
“I’ll have a black coffee with six pumps of honey. She’ll have a latte, whole milk, with six pumps of sweetener, two pumps of vanilla, two pumps caramel, and squirt in some liquid cocaine if you have it lying around. Oh, and she’ll have eclairs, please. All of them.”
He continued staring.
“The last one was a joke.”
“Ma’am?”
“The cocaine, not the eclairs. Though, if you have any coke…”
“We don’t, ma’am.”
Fauna and I shared a giggle. She was right. This particular brand of chaos was fun.
He swallowed. “Name?”
Fauna looked at me expectantly.
“Your Majesties.”
“Holy shit.” Fauna eyed the house impressively as we pulled up the driveway. “I didn’t think you came from money.”
“I don’t,” I said, turning off the car. The Mercedes was avery quiet car, but in the absence of air-conditioning, radio, and engine, the silence was deafening. “I’ve never gotten a dime from them, even when I desperately needed it.”
She unbuckled her belt. “All the more reason to leave everything in your will to me.”
“The moment the ink dried, they’d find my body mysteriously washed up on the shores of the river,” I grumbled.
She wrinkled her nose. “They used to leave treasures at my temple. Now I get an eye roll. Now, what do we do about this house?”
A dull ache joined the shades of blue washing over me. The truth was, I didn’t know anything about their new home. “If I hadn’t checked their social media this morning, I wouldn’t even know that my dad had gotten some fancy new job and they’d moved into the most pretentious place in town. Let’s hope the cedar chest is easy to find.”
She chewed on her lip as she leaned forward, peering out the windshield. “Well, looks like we have our work cut out for us. You take the boring rooms, I’ll take wherever your mom hides her jewelry.”
Her joke almost got a laugh out of me, but not quite. Walking up the driveway mirrored how I imagined it might feel to arrive at your own funeral. I realized I had no idea how to get into the house. I blinked in horror at the flaw in my plan. I didn’t have to communicate my mistake before Fauna realized the problem.
“Hold on,” she said. “Stay here.”
I tried not to look suspicious as I waited between the immaculately trimmed hedges. I inspected the door, the window-box planters filled with geraniums, the frosted glass, the welcome mat that said “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Fauna disappeared around the corner of the house, presumably heading for the backyard. I assumed she had more experience as a cat burglar, and remained obediently on the doorstep.
A moment later, the front door opened.
“Welcome to my home!” She grinned, throwing the door open on its hinges and making a sweeping gesture inward.
I started to ask her how she’d done it but acutely remembered her stepping into my house from oblivion on more than one occasion. I suspected she’d only needed to round the house in case curious neighbors and their prying eyes peered through cracks in the blinds as the attention-grabbing ginger vanished into thin air.
I struggled to take a forward step.
