Page 63 of Happily Never After

“PLATYPUS,” she screamed to the crowd. She tumbled to the ground, falling hard on the planks. A splinter bit into her right palm. Her wig slipped off, exposing her blond tresses to the world.

“Whoa, sorry, dude,” someone said. A scarred hand with a wrist guard slipped into view. “I lost control of my board. Did you say platypus?”

She backed away from the offered hand. Sure, it could have been an innocent skateboarder. But it could have just as easily been a murderer in training waiting to drag her into a windowless kidnapping van.

At that moment, Mindy sprinted down the pier hoisting a metal trashcan lid. A security guard trailed behind her.

“I thought you were fucking dead.” Mindy chucked the lid onto the boardwalk and pulled Claire into a rib-crushing hug. “Did your thumbs fall off? They must have since you didn’t text me back.” She pulled away and inspected Claire’s hands.

“I’m sorry, I just got bad vibes from that guy?—”

Wait. Shit. Where had he gone?

She scanned the boardwalk. A handful of people were still staring at them after Mindy’s dramatic trash can release, but none of them were the lurker in the black hoodie.

“Everything okay here?” The bored-looking security guard with a nightstick and sun-bleached surfer hair popped a chewing gum bubble in their faces.

“I think so. Thank you.” Claire scanned the crowd again. No creeper. She blew out a long breath and straightened the hem of her absurd dress. The three-minute beach excursion no longer felt like a safe idea. “We better get on track with checking the route.”

Mindy grunted and started back toward the car, her head on a swivel. Claire trailed behind her, probing the crowd.

She couldn’t live this way for the rest of her life. ESA wouldn’t stop until they were taken down. It was time to topple the first domino—Professor Taylor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

To Do:

- Establish a designated disguise bag

- Follow up with helicopter company

- Plan alternate routes for B proposal

When Luke walkedinto the living room that evening, Claire was taping a strand of red yarn between a photograph of Dr. William Taylor and a large question mark. The double-sided whiteboard they had bought after visiting Santa Monica was slowly becoming covered by ESA theories. The corkboard in the office hadn’t had enough space.

“This doesn’t look like a safety meeting.” He picked up the almost-empty bottle of cabernet sauvignon on the end table. His gaze shifted to Rosie and Winston, who were wearing matching bandanas that Claire had bought during a mini retail therapy session before they headed home.

“Yeah, we got kind of distracted.” Claire set her glass on the table. She rubbed at the marker smudge on her hand.

Was he still in a bad mood? Would he be upset about the ESA board? He seemed more relaxed, and he hadn’t dragged his toolbox in with him.

“I see the car is still in one piece.” He leaned against the doorframe.

“Despite Los Angeles’s best efforts,” Mindy said.

“You know you could take the metro,” Luke said with eyebrows raised.

“We’re not trying to get sold into sex trafficking.” Mindy turned back around to face the board.

Claire stood and squeezed his arm as she passed him. In the kitchen, she popped a plate of food in the microwave. Her mind had buzzed with the conversation he’d had with Olivia since she got home. But how would she broach the subject?

Heavy footsteps thudded into the kitchen. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Luke had followed her. The microwave beeped, and she yanked the door open.

“I made some pasta.” She handed the warm plate over like a peace offering. “I thought some carbs might help after your long day.”

“Thank you,” Luke said with a kiss. The kitchen chair squeaked as he sat on it. He didn’t immediately jump up and dismantle it, so hopefully his stress had leveled out.

“How did everything go at the studio?” Claire lowered herself into the chair across from him.

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