Page 43 of Loan Wolf
“Scandalizing angels, perhaps.”
36
GABE
Gabe frowned at the flowers. The internet had assured him that it was appropriate to give flowers for performances, but it hadn’t offered much guidance on what kind of flowers.
Actually, it had given too much guidance.
Yellow flowers meant friendship, which seemed inappropriate to offer a mate. Red roses might be standard, but Julia was out of those. Other than carnations in a lot of rather unnatural looking shades, he wasn’t at all sure what any of the flowers she had were…except for daisies, which a quick search convinced him meant innocence, joy, and secrets. Innocence aside—he smirked—they seemed like the best choice, and besides, they’d first met the second time over a bike named Daisy.
They were also the cheapest flowers available.
Gabe was glad he walked, because the theatre lot was full and vehicles were parked along every street in a four block radius. He joined a stream of people dressed up in Green Valley formal, which tended to mean nice plaid shirts and clean jeans. Women wore modest country dresses. Out-of-towners added class to the mix, and Gabe spotted a few men in suits and women wearing slinky dresses and heels.
Gabe had chosen a clean T-shirt and second-best jeans—he still mourned his ruined favorite pair—and he finger-combed his hair self-consciously as he drew close to the building.
The theatre was air conditioned, which was rare for Green Valley, and Gabe went to the box office.
“Name?” Gillian looked up. “Oh, Gabe!” She started to rifle through the will-call box of tickets. “Smith, Smith, Smith…”
“I don’t have tickets reserved,” Gabe said, fishing out his last cash. “Just one, please.”
Gillian looked at him skeptically. “They’ve been sold out since Wednesday,” she said nervously. “Everyone wants to see Clara dance.”
“Sold out?” Gabe could have kicked himself. He should have known that they would be. “Are there any scalpers?”
Gillian laughed nervously and waved him aside so she could find tickets for the couple behind him.
Gabe reluctantly stepped away and considered his options. He could rush the entrance or try to bluff his way in; it didn’t look like they had any security, and he could easily overpower the ushers. But Clara probably wouldn’t appreciate him making a scene just to see her. Sneak in the back? Break in an upstairs window?
“Gabe? Oh, Gabe, aren’t you thrilled to see Clara perform?”
Linda Turner was making the rounds of the lobby and Gabe knew that he was just a target of opportunity. “I didn’t get a ticket,” he said tightly. “They’re sold out.”
“It’s our first sellout crowd!” Linda crowed. “I’m so delighted. But Clara will be heartbroken if you can’t see it. We don’t have seats left, but we’re not at the fire marshal’s limits yet. I should know! Come on, you can stand with me at the side to watch from the wings. Oh, Tawny, you look amazing. Are those bees on your wrap? Is it cashmere?” Linda tucked her hand into Gabe’s elbow and he had no chance for escape.
She dragged him through a dozen introductions, most of them people he already knew adjacently, and he wondered at their general friendliness and willingness to talk once Linda had broken the ice. Had he assumed a coolness of the community that they didn’t deserve? Had he been the one not giving them a chance? He had to juggle his increasingly sad-looking bouquet to shake hands with Linda hanging on his other arm.
Most puzzling, he had a feeling like a handful of the people he spoke with had a second presence to them. Three of the hands he shook, he was absolutely sure they were shifters, even though their handshakes were not shifter strong. They didn’t appear to recognize him in return, except for Officer Stakes, but his look might well have been the general suspicion that Gabe had been expecting.
He was in a pensive mood by the time the lobby lights were flickered to call everyone to their seats, and he let Linda lead him backstage and leave him in the wings to go out herself and introduce the first act.
He didn’t have a great view of the stage, but it was fun to watch the audience, eager to enjoy every act. Gabe didn’t think that the actors were bad, but he wasn’t sure they were worth the enthusiastic cheering. The lights came up for an intermission and Gabe found himself shaken down in the lobby by a forward little girl selling popcorn and rather lumpy-looking cookies. “You can’t eat them in there,” she warned, taking Gabe’s dollars.
Under her scrutiny, Gabe ate the cookie instead of palming it into the trash. It tasted like plastic and salt, and it left his mouth completely dry, but he smiled and nodded with more acting chops than half the people on stage.
He went to find a drinking fountain before the second act and immediately ran into Patricia, who was standing in line for the restroom with a tall young woman wearing heavy makeup who must be Clara’s little sister. They caught sight of him before he could backpedal and get lost in the crowd.
“Oh, Gabe! Clara says she has quite a surprise for us, do you know what it is?”
Gabe, sure he was doing a very apt deer in headlights impression, sidled into conversation range. “She didn’t tell me.”
“She’s acting very mysterious. This is my daughter, Victoria. Victoria, this is…Gabe. He’s…ah…”
Gabe took pity on Patricia, who clearly wasn’t sure how to introduce him, and offered his hand to Victoria. “Clara’s squeeze,” he said flippantly. “Local entrepreneur and shady character.”
Patricia laughed like she wasn’t sure she had been saved. “Oh, no, I’m sure you’re a fine boy. Young man. And Clara is very fond of you.”
