Page 56 of Thief of Night
But if she went, she was going to have to bring a Blight in a backpack with them. That seemed like a bad idea. Everything about this seemed like a bad idea.
Charlie sighed, giving in to the inevitable. “Give me the dress. If it fits, I’ll go.”
It was shiny silver tinsel and came along with a pair of pumps. Charlie changed in the greenroom in the back, wriggling into it. When she was done, she ran water into her hands and used it to smooth back her hair. She wiped away any runny eyeliner or mascara beneath her eyes with a scrap of toilet paper.
When she looked in the mirror, Charlie wasn’t sure who she saw. The dress was very short and it made her legs look very long. She didn’t hate it.
Rachel gave her a thumbs-up when she came out. She didn’t hate that either. Red looked as though he’d swallowed something the wrong way and was about to choke on it, which was less flattering.
“Nice,” Madison said, though the comment was delivered to Adeline.
No one seemed to notice the backpack over Charlie’s shoulder or the slight movement from inside.
“It seems we’re going out after all,” said Red, reaching for Charlie’s hand. When his skin pressed hers, she found herself shocked all over again by his warmth. “Unless you’d rather go home.”
“I’ll ride with you, Carver,” Brooks told him, ignoring their conversation.
“It’s fine,” Charlie said. “I’m already wearing the dress.”
She stuck her backpack with the Blight inside into the trunk. By the time she turned around, Brooks had gotten into the passenger seat of the Porsche. When he saw her standing next to the car, he got out only to flip up the seat and let her into the squashed back. For the entire ride, he talked about people he and Remy had known in New York. Charlie tried to pay attention, but the stories seemed to blur together into something that sounded like the Wilberforce-Batton-Bankes and Hastings-Abbotts co-hosting a charity event where everyone played cricket on Molly.
She stopped trying and texted Malhar her apologies. She’d see him tomorrow.
It turned out that several towns to the west, at the edge of the Berkshires, there was a members-only speakeasy called Lion’s Share that stayed open until four in the morning. Like Blue Ruin in Northampton, the third-shift bar that Charlie had been thrown out of and probably banned from, Lion’s Share got around the legal closing time by operating as a private club. Their group rolled in a little after two and Adeline ordered another round of espresso martinis. Charlie asked for a double shot of bourbon with a water back.
The silver-haired bartender had one of those waxed moustaches popular among hipsters fifteen years ago, except he looked old enough for his to be what they were imitating.
In her spangly dress, hair slicked back, stockings the only thing keepingher legs warm, Charlie felt chilly and awkward sitting at a high cocktail table, heel hooked on the edge of the metal bar of her stool.
She wasn’t normally a pushover—and yet, somehow they’d convinced her to come along. Was it their money that had intimidated her? Was it that they’d known Remy and she had a masochistic desire to learn everything about him, this person that Red loved above everything and everyone?
Was it that she worried Red wanted to go and was afraid to disappoint him?
Topher had been staring at her chest since they sat down. She hoped he was looking at her tattoos—and maybe he was. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who hung out with a lot of inked people.
Brooks barely looked at her at all, which was worse.
“Remy,” Madison said, glancing across the table at Red. “If no one is going to say it, then I will. I can’t believe what you went through. I know we aren’t usually very serious, but you could have told us. We would have done something.”
“I didn’t want you to try,” Red said, after a pause long enough to be awkward. He leaned back in his chair, the top two buttons of his shirt open to reveal the singlet underneath. No rings on his fingers. No dirt under his nails either.
“Salt cut off your shadow?” Brooks asked, lowering his voice. “What is it like, not to have one?”
“I lost a part of myself, I suppose,” Red said. “I’m just not sure which part.”
Charlie wished that she’d tried to find video footage of Remy at one of these parties. Surely one of his friends had recordedsomething. Surely there was an Instagram somewhere. Anything that would tell her Red was acting at all like Remy.
Carver.
If he wasn’t trying to trick them, she couldn’t begin to guess what he was trying to do.
“I remember meeting Salt a few times,” said Brooks. “He looked like anyone else’s grandfather. I can’t believe he was so dangerous. And how the two of you managed to be so normal, living with him, I have no idea.”
Red’s gaze went to Adeline. “Sometimes you don’t know how bad something is until it’s over.”
Adeline smiled tightly. “Family—well, you try to forgive family.”
“Forgive him?” Brooks said. “I know he died and he’s your dad, but I couldn’t forgive that.”
