Page 103 of The Night Shift
“Maybe I can finally visit you this year?”
“Em.”
“No, I really think I can convince Dad to let me visit. He’s been in a good mood lately and you know, it’s been so long now. He has to let me come —” Her voice is cut off by a buzzing sound from my phone.
“Hold that thought.” I set the bag of cat food down and check my phone screen. A text message. It’s from an unknown number. A different one this time. And it’s meant for me.
212-894-5092: leave her ALONE. this will be ur only warning.
Chapter 19
Holly
One hour later
167 Orchard Street
Things I should be thinking about:
1. One of my stalkers is still on the loose.
2. A random girl I met at Camille’s bar knows about said stalker and also, by extension, my murderous side hustle.
3. Someone tipped off the cops that I killed a man, and it’s highly likely that I’m now the number-one suspect in said man’s “disappearance.”
The only thing Iamthinking about:
1. A certain British surgeon whose entire existence revolves around getting on my nerves.
“Here you go, ladies!” Loud music pulses from the speakers and the bartender returns with our order. “One espresso martini for the bride to be and one gin martini for her pretty friend. Cheers!”
April mutters a “thank you” and takes a delicate sip, holding onto her elaborate purple headpiece, careful not to mess up her bangs. The rest of her costume is just as outlandish. A skintightpurple leather bodysuit, a high-neck silver leather choker, silver leather arm cuffs, and purple thigh-high leather boots. The only non-leather part of her outfit is the glitteryBride to Besash.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?” The bartender leans against the counter, flashing me a wide grin that’s all teeth and grotesque puppy-dog eyes.
His gaze roams all over me and my costume — which, I suppose, is fair. Idolook nice tonight. Despite my initial doubts about letting April pick out my outfit, I have to admit she did a decent job. A dark green pleated mini-skirt and a black sheer corset top, all layered under an even darker green bomber jacket. The black thigh-high boots were my choice. The gold headpiece was hers.
It's shaped like a crown with two horns on either side. Although one of the horns seems to be missing or broken, I’m not sure.
April offers the bartender a polite smile. “No, thank you —”
“I asked for eight olives,” I cut in, my tone flat as if he’s wasting our time. He is.
His expression falters, and he glances down at the three lonely olives bobbing in my glass. “Oh, let me fix that for you —”
I snatch the martini back before his grubby fingers can touch it, holding his gaze as I take a sip. His mouth opens like he’s about to apologize again. “Leave,” I cut him off.
His cheeks flush.
I watch him scuttle away to tend to another customer at the opposite end of the bar, then glance at April, who’s looking at me like I just killed her cat. “What?”
“That was really rude, Hol.”
“I know. It’s fun. You should try it sometime.” I take another sip of my drink.
“He was just trying to be nice.”
“Emphasis on trying.” I set my glass down and start rummaging through my purse. “So, what color penis would you like to suck on tonight?”
