Page 41 of Star-Crossed
Brenda gasped the gasp of a thousand basic bitches. “I. Am. Out. Of. Here.”
She teetered away on her red-soled, too-high heels and almost ran straight into Gemma and Cady, who’d shut down Bazaar Girls and were helping with the closing chores in Star-Crossed.
“Cool, well, it’s been…sort of okay meeting you.”
Cady snort-chuckled, but Gemma directed a disapproving frown at her twin. “You should be nice to clients, or they won’t come back.”
“Promise?” Lyra put the cards back into their box and made her way to the front door, taking inordinate pleasure in sliding the bolt home.
For the first time, she noticed that Cady, the proprietress of Nevermore Bookstore, had traded her usual jeans and snarky t-shirt for canvas cargo pants, a flannel, and knee-high wellies.
Additionally, Gemma was in their mom’s old painting overalls over a grease-stained button-up that had the name “Kyle” stitched into the pocket. She’d very obviously pilfered it from Gabe’s mechanic shop.
Didn’t take a fortune-teller to predict some fuckery. “What are you two up to?”
“Oh, nothing…” Cady was way better at the fake innocence routine, with her owl-bright blueberry eyes, round cheeks, and angel-gold hair in two braids. “It’s just a bit of B&E. No one will even notice. It’s almost dark now.”
Lyra planted her feet in front of the door. “Explain yourselves or you’re going nowhere.”
Unfazed, Gemma busied herself plucking errant stones of the wrong color that the feckless customers had refused to return to their appropriate dishes. “Those assholes from the picture frame store cheated in the Halloween window display contest. And we have to get them back.” She punched her palm like a street kid ready for revenge.
Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “Get them back how, exactly?”
“Better you don’t know.” Gemma smiled cryptically before turning to Cady. “I made a list of what we have left to do. First of which is go to the Wine Seller.”
Cady nodded, throwing her tote over one shoulder. “Then we pick up the goat?”
Lyra’s internal record scratched. “The goat?”
“And probably to Frank’s Hardware for some paint,” Gemma said. “Maybe we get the paint before the goat.”
“Are you painting the goat?” Lyra asked, threading through a hanging display of Himalayan flags to chase the girls to the door adjoining her shop with Bazaar Girls.
“While we’re at Frank’s, we’ll check for a few rail spikes—if not, maybe Roy has them at his salvage place.” Cady checked her phone. “I’ll call to see if he’s still open.”
“Ah yes. Good idea,” Gemma agreed, twisting her hair up off her neck and securing it with the elastic from her wrist.
“What are those for?” Lyra’s demand was again ignored.
“Did you see the delivery to the Driftwood Gallery from the lumberyard?” Gemma turned to her best friend, scandalized. “Not enough for a house, but one could certainly build, say…a deck. Or if Olaf Karlsson is doing it, a pyre.”
Lyra scampered in front of them. “Okay, guys, I really am gonna need you to tell me what you’re planning for this goat.”
Her sister eyed her skeptically. “Sounds like someone wants to go get Randall herself.”
“Randall?”
“The goat,” Cady explained sagely.
“Whatever you’re planning, I think you should leave innocent goats out of it,” Lyra said.
“Naw, Randall will be fine!” Gemma assured her, her smile oddly too bright.
“Fine as in…alive?”
“Of course!” Cady replied. “We only need a little milk.”
Lyra relaxed. “Oh. Whew…”Then… “Wait. You’re milking Randall?”
