Page 55 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Liv clicked her tongue, looked down at Ellis, and said, “Well, that’s seven years of bad luck for you, missy.”
There had beenzero arguments when I suggested we leave the broken mirror for now and get ourselves some food, and a moment to decompress, before approaching the receptionist to let her know what we’d done and how much she was likely going to bill us for it.
Ellis was now driving us in silence again toward a diner she’d found nearby that had enough stars to satisfy her need for “efficient health and safety.” Her words, not mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a way to filter reviews by cleanliness rating.
At this point, I was amazed she hadn’t vetoed the Motel 6.
Betty’s Rockin’ Spoonsat on the corner of the main street, a memorial of pastel pink and turquoise paint slightly faded, but in a way that felt charming and nostalgic rather than eerie or decrepit. The windows glowed under the soft afternoon sun, and a buzzingOPENsign flickered behind the glass.
“Finally, the vibes I’m after,” Liv said as she floated out of the car once Ellis had parked. She pointed up at the massive sign on the roof, a cartoon woman in 1950s diner attire holding a tray of pancakes as big as her head. Liv let out a low whistle. “Boy, do I miss pancakes.”
The moment we stepped inside, a blast of warm air hit us, followed by the smell of maple syrup, bacon grease… and the subtle rustle of Ellis whipping out her hand sanitizer. She scanned the room for a clean booth and gestured toward one by the window.
We slid onto the vinyl cushions across from each other, and I looked around the room, a low yawn escaping as my eyes started to burn. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even over yet.
A red-lipped waitress with a towering bouffant and sparkly cat-eye glasses dropped off two laminated menus and a pair of waters, telling us to holler when we were ready. Then she sashayed off toward the counter, where another girl dressed in a similar retro style leaned in to talk with her.
“This place is cute,” I murmured, glancing down at the menu.
Ellis didn’t respond right away. She just flipped open the menu and began scanning it, her expression tight with irritation and exhaustion. Everything about her seemed so carefully managed and wound up to the edge. Was the temple rubbing just one of her tools to keep herself steady?
Hell, maybe she’denjoyedsmashing that mirror.
“So…” I began carefully, “now that we’ve survived the drive from Chicago, riled up ghost hunters, and endured a Motel 6 spider-induced meltdown… maybe we should talk about how we’re funding this chaos?”
Ellis looked up instantly, blinking at me. Her green eyes were so startling I lost my train of thought for a second.
“Funding?” she echoed.
“Yes,” I said, tucking a loose strand of hair back into one of my floppy space buns. “You know, how we’re paying for gas, food, motels… your emergency therapy bill after today.”
Finally, her lips twitched. She thumbed the bottom of her menu. “Yeah, okay. We do need to talk about it.”
I took a sip of water. “So, I think we should split the costs fifty-fifty across the board.”
Ellis nodded once, tapping her glass with one finger. “Yeah. That makes the most sense.”
“Cool,” I said. “I’ll be honest, I’ve only just taken over the shop and haven’t started paying myself yet. I have roughly fifteen hundred dollars I can contribute without blowing a hole in my pocket.”
“I can track expenses,” Ellis said with another nod. “I have four hundred in cash and about a grand on my card. Anything I fall short on, I’ll pay you back once I get access to my trust.”
“I’ve never met anyone with a trust before,” I said, regarding her. “Your content must be good if you’ve made enough to put it into a trust. Too bad you didn’t get a chance to sign everything before Liv popped up.”
“Hmm,” Ellis muttered, looking back at the menu.
“I was thinking about setting up an online shop,” I blurted out, unsure why I was even telling her. She glanced up from her menu. “I draw. Sometimes customers see my art in the store and buy it… so I thought maybe I could sell online as well.”
Ellis blinked, like she wasn’t sure what to say, or maybe confused about why I was telling her this. But she was clearly a big-time content creator, and I was just getting started. There was a small, niggling part of me that wanted to impress her.
“Apparently people really dig half-naked forest nymphs,” I added lamely, feeling heat climb up my neck.
She smiled—a real smile—one that spread true and easy across her face, transforming her usual somber, guarded expression into something warm and genuinely alluring. Her green eyes sparkled as she closed her menu.
“I mean,” she said dryly, “who doesn’t?”
It was my turn to blink… Ellis liked half-naked forest nymphs?
A waitress appeared before I could say anything else, and we ordered. Ellis went with a depressing-sounding veggie wrap—no cheese, no sauce—and a side salad. I ordered waffles with strawberries and bacon, like someone who still had the will to live.
