Page 3 of Dead Rockstar

“Yo,” I answered, easing out of the parking lot and extending a wave to Jean, the head librarian and my boss. She nodded her gray-curled head at me and resumed fishing for her keys.

“Hey, I'm in a rush, but I wanted to let you know...” I could hear the rattle of Sloan's makeup case in the background. She must be getting ready for her date. Sloan was a makeup junkie; I'd never seen her without perfectly applied, thick black, winged eyeliner. Not even when we were teenagers and she'd spend the night. “...Tess called me today.”

“Tess?” I parroted dumbly. “Called you? Today? Why?”

“It was after we had coffee, when I went back to work,” she said. “When I saw his name on the caller ID, I almost sent it to voicemail, but I was curious-”

“What did he want?” I demanded.

“You're not going to like it.”

“Spill. Now.”

“He wanted a freebie. What else?” Sloan is a hairdresser. She pays booth rent at The Curling Dervish and half the people in town ask her for freebies, or for trades. I have no idea how she makes enough to pay rent.

“Why would he go to a women's salon to get a haircut? I didn't even know he was back in town.”

“Not for him, goober. For his...” She lowered her voice to a disgusted whisper. “For his girlfriend.”

I kept my eyes on the road and concentrated on driving carefully as I'd just noticed a cop pulling into the lane behind me. But my instincts were screaming at me to drive off the road and into the nearest dumpster. A girlfriend? Since when?

“Oh.”

“That's all you've gotta say? Oh?” Sloan demanded. I could hear her slamming makeup down on the counter. “Your ex-husband pops up out of nowhere after months of radio silence, calls your best friend, and asks her to give his girlfriend a freebie? And she wants a cut and color, mind you. We're talking a hundred bucks, at least. The nerve-”

“It doesn't matter,” I said in a pained voice. My throat felt a little closed up. “Let him do whatever he wants.”

“It certainly does matter,” Sloan argued. “I told him, politely of course, because I was on the clock, to go fuck himself. I don't do freebies for anybody anymore. But especially not him and his skank of the month. After all he did to you. I wish he'd been here in person. I would have got right up in his face-”

I managed to smile. Sloan's protectiveness of me was one of her finer qualities. But I just wanted to get off the phone. I'd already been in a dark place and her call had only put fresh hurt on top of what was already a festering wound. “So is it a new girlfriend? Or is he back with her?” I didn't want to ask, but I had to.

“He's still seeing her,” she said, her voice full of pity. “Don't sweat it, Storm. If he wants to have a mid-life crisis and start dating a Jennifer Lopez wannabe, that's not your problem-”

“It's not a mid-life crisis,” I argued, clutching at my stomach. “He's only thirty-three.”

“It hit him early,” she said pertly. “Along with the male pattern baldness.”

I frowned. “Oh, his hair's fine. Hey, Sloan? I'm driving. Gotta go, okay? Talk later.”

“Okay, yeah. I've got to slip into my dress, anyway. Still trying to decide on shoes. This guy is major buttoned up. NO idea what he sees in me.” She was silent for a moment, and I could hear the rattle of mascaras in her bag. “Hey, you aren't still planning on doing that stupid spell, are you?”

For a moment I'd forgotten what she was talking about, then I remembered. The necromancy spell. I'd mainly just been winding her up. Right now, my plans consisted of climbing into bed in my rattiest pajamas and doing my best to forgot about Tess and his gorgeous Latina lover by upending a bottle of red wine. “I was just trying to be funny. I wasn't serious.” But even as I said the words, a tendril of excitement began to work its way up my back...it might be fun...

“Okay, good.” Her tone turned serious. “It's just...you're in a vulnerable place right now. And I know it's all just hock-and-booey-” there was that word again- “-but sometimes our intentions, like you said - they get away from us. I don't want you playing around with any of that stuff, getting hurt.”

“I don't believe in ‘that stuff’, Sloan,” I said irritably. “I was just kidding, anyway.” In my mind, I was already mentally stockpiling supplies. I had most of them in the cupboard already. Joke, my ass. I was such a liar. A liar and a fraud.

“Fine,” she said. “Good. Go home, get some sleep, and don't think about Tess, okay? He's not worth it, believe me. You'll find some cuter, hotter piece of ass soon, one that isn't a-”

“Okay, Sloan,” I said. “Love you, bye.” And I hung up.

Sloan would understand my shortness. Talking about Tess – even thinking about him–still caused too much pain. She was probably cursing herself for even telling me now. Of course, I would have found out eventually anyway.

If Tess had had a new girlfriend, it would have hurt less. I assumed he'd been seeing various women ever since our divorce. After all, he'd been seeing them before we'd split up, I'd discovered. But the fact that he was still with her, the one who had broken up our marriage, felt like a punch in the heart. Considering I was still stuck in the holding pattern, paying off both the monetary debt he'd left me with and the mental, emotional debt I couldn't seem to shake, it was unfair that he had been able to move on. I'd comforted myself by assuming they'd be broken up within a week. When I heard the rumor that she'd dumped him, I had giggled with glee. Served him right. But now, they were back on and back on my stomping grounds. It was bad enough that apparently they were a real item, but now I would have to dodge seeing them in town and hearing all about them trying to swindle my best friend. This was my turf and I'd explicitly told him to stay away. Did Tess seriously not think I'd find out if he came back?

I gripped the wheel, my mouth setting into a hard line. I knew Tess better than anyone, knew his little tricks.

It was bait. He knew I'd hear about it, that Sloan would dutifully let me know. This was on purpose, this little bit of intel. I wondered what he wanted from me.

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