Page 54 of Fast Currents
“I like your costume too.” I gestured to his Hades outfit, complete with blue hair and black leather jacket. “Not gonna lie, I figured there was a fifty percent chance of minotaur.”
He shuddered, his eyes squeezed shut and face contorted. “Yikes. No.”
“Where’s your sense of humor, Robertson?”
“I think I lost it somewhere in the underworld.”
The parking lot at Roche Harbor was packed by the time we arrived at the gallery. We turned in our tickets at the front door to the friendly high schooler who had door duty, stepping into sensory overload. The tiny gallery was packed with costumed people. A kaleidoscope of color and sound washed through the space, townspeople drifting in small groups, their chatter rising and falling.
Familiar artwork from our class festooned the walls. Chaz had erected small shelves to display the clay sculptures, while the paintings and drawings hung framed. My shoulders relaxed as I noted that some already had discreet “sold” tags.
I hadn’t expected such a crush of people. It was difficult to navigate, but Clay’s bulk helped as he shouldered his way through the crowd, making way for me on our journey toward the bar. As we waited, I tried to pick out familiar faces, but all the masks and face paint made it difficult.
Anya waved from one corner of the room, and I waved back, grateful she’d gotten my attention. Slowly, the room settled, and I was able to pick out more people we knew. Harlow and Parker from the bakery, both in cosplay, complete with swords and loincloth. Eric Chancellor as a football coach. Merita Rodriguez from the studio as the most gorgeous ghost I’d ever seen.
Clay handed me a glass of white wine and placed his palm at my back, maneuvering us toward our friends.
“Luce! I love your costume.” Anya grinned over her drink at me. She’d chosen an all-blue onesie and horns. Her boyfriend, Drew, was dressed as a lumberjack. It took me a few minutes to place them. “Paul Bunyan and Babe the Ox?” I finally guessed.
“You got it on the first try,” Rae admired. “I thought he was the paper towel dude.”
I’m not sure how, but Rae talked Zach into a white captain’s uniform shirt and sailor’s cap with shorts. The bronze buttons on his open shirt twinkled under the lights, the white cotton contrasting nicely with the bronzed chest revealed by the open buttons. Rae wore a feminized version of the same costume, looking darned cute.
I raised my glass. “I love yours too.” Turning to Violet and Lee, I squinted. “What are you two supposed to be?”
Lee pointed to the text spread across his chest. It read,Plot twist: I’m the killer.“I’m on deadline. I showed up, so let’s consider that a victory. Otherwise, I was coming as the invisible man.”
Violet rolled her eyes at his grouchy answer before smiling wryly at me. “I know it’s a little obscure, but Gran let me off the hook, so I thought I’d be a writer too. I’m Nora Roberts.”
The red hair and blue power blazer suddenly made sense. I’d look like a badass bitch too if I’d written more books than Wikipedia could keep track of.
“Well, hello there.”
The deep voice startled me. A dapper man in a fine suit appeared at my elbow. His deep brown skin and dark brown goatee set off his bright white smile and pristine dress shirt beneath diamond cufflinks.
A flash of recognition passed over Anya’s face, mirrored in Drew’s. “And what was your name again?” Anya asked smoothly.
He winked. “Tonight, I go by Bond, James Bond.” His grin flashed. “But you can call me Nick.”
He and Drew shook hands, followed by an equally businesslike shake with Clay. It took me that long to put it all together: this must be Agent Nick Harris, Clay’s contact in the DEA. He’d helped Anya and Drew when her ex made trouble a few months back.
“Nick, this is Lucy Millen, the artist who masterminded tonight’s show,” Clay introduced me. “Anya and Drew, you already know. The co-captains are Rae Dawkins and Zach Fenwick. Violet Fenwick is in the red wig, and Lee Murphy in the lame tee-shirt.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Nick said, offering me his hand. “Especially you. You’re very talented, putting all this together.” His expression was open and friendly, but I didn’t miss how his gaze dropped to my cleavage and stuck there like glue. It made me wish I’d thought ahead to inking an admonition between my breasts. Something like:if you can read this, you’re going to hell.
“We had a great group of students,” I said, brazening my way through the discomfort.
Nick’s hand lingered around mine. Short of shaking him off, I didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to be investigating, not flirting with me.
Clay cut between us, edging the other man away with practiced charm. “Luce, you look cold. Want my jacket?”
Vi caught my gaze, smirking. I wasn’t the only one who heard the edge in Clay’s voice. I’d think he was jealous if Nick weren’t here by his invitation.
While I’d dressed with Clay and his nickname for me in mind, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe no one else would be looking. I’d chosen this dress on purpose. Not just for the color or the way itclung to my body, but because it bared my shoulders. My back. The dappled edges of my birthmark.
For once, I hadn’t hidden.
That didn’t mean I felt entirely brave.
