Page 142 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
“I’ll be the first to admit that spiders have strange ideals when it comes to romance. Let’s go with … not everyone wants the same thing, but everyone wants something.”
Akira wasn’t sure that was helpful.
“Not everyone has a big appetite …?” Rafter tried.
That just translated to confusing.
Rafter sighed and bluntly said, “Love isn’t always about sex.”
“Oh.” Akira studied his feet. “Yeah.”
Patting his shoulder, Rafter said, “Give me until moonrise. I’ll slip you something. What would you prefer? In your pocket? Under your pillow?”
“You’d actually sneak it to me?”
“I can be subtle.” Rafter nodded significantly.
When he checked his pockets, Akira came up with a business card for Rafter’s Rentals. A phone number was neatly printed on the back. Along with a handwritten note—JUST IN CASE.
“Trust me, friend. I won’t soon let you down.”
It was mid-high when Akira lined up for a final inspection.
“Smythe,” drawled Argent.
“Yes, my lord?”
“What possessed you?”
Akira wasn’t sure if Argent was protesting the people Jacques had included in his entourage … or the way they were dressed. For his part, Akira felt ridiculous. Not all of Uncle Jackie’s luggage had been packed with his own clothes. He’d already been shopping for Akira, and today’s trust-building exercise involved breaking in a pair of pale peach jeans. Akira’s new sandals were more comfortable than the tight pants, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the pedicure Uncle Jackie had insisted upon.
“Why them?” asked Argent.
Jacques looked pleased to be asked. “This is my own handpicked team, all perfectly suited to the ideal shopping spree.”
“Tsk. I seriously doubt they are looking forward to the gauntlet of boutiques you will drag them through.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m looking forward to shopping with them.” And pointing to Sinder, Hallow, and Suuzu in turn, he said, “Him for his hipbones. Him for his collarbones. Him for his complexion.”
Magda and Akira exchanged a look, and Akira asked, “What about us?”
“Your job is compliments,” decreed Jacques. “The more extravagant, the better.”
“Or,” countered Argent. “You might consider drawing out our intended prey without losing hold of his.”
“I’m not prey,” protested Akira.
Argent’s gaze coolly swept him from head to toe. “Bait, then.” And to Jacques, “Do not forget yourself. Or the part I still need you to play.”
“We can be integral and still manage a bit of fun. Let me do this my way.”
Waving them off, Argent reminded, “We will be at the Amory. Try to draw him there.”
And so they filed past Moon and Mirrim, each offering an upraised hand to slap. Like the crystal gate was the entrance to an arena, and the game timers were already ticking. As they slipped through the farmer’s market, it certainly felt as if all eyes were on them.
Jacques in the lead, all traipse and sashay. Sinder at this side, quibbling over color theory, which apparently mattered to dragons. Hallow with his regal air stood beside Magda and gestured for Akira and Suuzu to precede them, since they’d act as rear guard.
Within ten minutes, it was abundantly clear that Magda was out to have fun, and she seemed intent on dragging Hallow and Suuzu straight into more. Barely a block along their way, and Hallow sported a new pair of sunglasses, and she’d wrapped Suuzu’s head in a fancy turban.
