Page 31 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“Okay, well. I’m here, Sunflower.”
“Thanks, Juniper.” She smirks playfully. “Or should I pick Violet, or Zinnia?”
“Ha. Ha. Not funny. My nickname needs to be manly. Like a superhero.”
She snort-laughs, her eyes no longer wet and full.
Our cuffs magically disconnect and clatter to the floor. Rynn rubs her wrist, then waits while the staff rearranges the room, placing a table in front of us. A pair of ghosts pretend to drink tea on the other side, obviously listening to our conversation.
“I’m glad you came to see me, babe,” a man says behind me.
Why do I recognize that voice?
“Hey, Porter. This is my friend, Elias.” Rynn gives me an apologetic look.
I stand quickly, the chair legs screeching against the floor. The man shakes my hand but doesn’t smile. I’m the type who doesn’t judge, but I file away his man-bun for a day when a perfectly timed joke might poke him where it hurts.
“Enjoy our performance?” he asks.
Crap. He’s the poet. I sit, not trusting myself to speak without stabbing her ex with an inappropriate, ego-flared comment. We seem to be opposites in every way, especially how we dress. His shorts are uneven, frayed, and cut at the knee. His loose-fitted tank top drapes like a dress meant for someone plus-sized.
“Yeah, you two bounce off each other well.” Rynn stirs her drink with her straw.
He glances between us, creating a division in the magnetic energy pulsing in our space. As if he’s not threatened by me in the least, Porter turns to block me out of the conversation. “You coming over again tonight? I get off at seven.”
I grind my teeth and feel my body tense.
“I’m busy.” She sips her drink again, then points to the menu under the glass top of the table. “I think I’ll get the veggie sandwich. What about you, Sugarplum?”
She meets my eyes, sending a clear message. Not interested in Porter. Done with him. He’s old news.
Relief flows over me like a wave. “Well, do you care if I eat meat in front of you?”
“Oh, shit, this guy doesn’t even know you. He’s brand spankin’ new, huh? Well, good luck. She’s a handful.” Porter pats my back and leaves.
“Eating meat is fine,” she continues as if Porter hadn’t even interrupted. “But lie to me if you ever run over an animal. And if you see roadkill in advance, tell me to look the other way. Oh, and you don’t go hunting for deer, right?”
“No hunting for me. I’d have to buy camo suspenders.”
“Facts.” The devious look in her eye suggests how much she might like my suspenders.
We exchange stories from the last ten years while we eat, laughing between bites. I wish I had found her long ago. She eats all my French fries which makes me adore her even more.
Our bill lands on the table, followed by a new waitress asking, “So, I hear you want info about Alex? You stalkers or something? FBI? Did she do something? We’re not on speaking terms, but I’d rather not see her on the news, ya know?”
“You must be Shannon.” Rynn’s smile disappears. “We need to talk to Alex about something important.”
She stares up at the clock, then sighs loudly. “You swear you won’t hurt her?”
“We promise.” I pull out my wallet and place all my cash on the table. “A gift for your time.”
Shannon pockets it and nods. “She works at the unicorn sanctuary about thirty minutes outside of Oakmar. I’m surprised you know her at all since she never comes downtown. She moved after we broke up. I wouldn’t be able to give you her address even if I wanted to.”
“Thank you!” Rynn stands and kisses Shannon’s cheek. “Which sanctuary? Pink Wink? Hooves for Love? Or Pegasus Station?”
“Hooves for Love,” Shannon says, pointing a finger in my face. “Don’t do anything that’ll trace back to me. I blocked her number but don’t want her showing up on my doorstep bitching about you two harassing her.”
I raise both hands in surrender, staying silent since Rynn seems to have this covered.
