Page 95 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“Then let’s handle this as a team.”
“You want to shave one eyebrow while I get the other?” she asked him hopefully.
“I have an even better idea.”
“Better than shaving Anthony ‘Weasel Face’ Berkowicz’s eyebrows?” she challenged.
“Don’t open the whiskey, yet. We have a couple of stops to make.”
* * *
“Why arewe parked in front of my aunt’s house?” Eden asked, peering out the window at the tidy electric blue ranch house. Garden gnomes were organized in a semicircle around the front porch.
Davis pointed toward the house where a window opened and a pair of denim clad legs appeared. The legs slid out of the window followed by a torso and a lot of straight blonde hair.
“Moon Beam?”
The blonde slunk around the gnomes, skirted a large rhododendron, and then opened the back door to Davis’s SUV.
“You guys didn’t have sex back here recently, did you?” Moon Beam asked, gingerly sliding over the seat.
They had two nights ago, but Davis didn’t see any reason to share that knowledge with Moon Beam.
“Why are we picking up my cousin?” Eden demanded.
“We’re going to pay Weasel Face a visit,” Davis announced. “And what are we leaving in the car?”
“Cigarettes and anything else flammable,” Moon Beam recited, popping a tube of lipstick out of her skin-tight jeans and leaning between the seats to apply it in the rearview mirror.
“Why were you climbing out of your mom’s window?” Eden asked her cousin.
Moon Beam rolled her eyes dramatically. “Mom’s on this ‘you need to act like an adult’ kick. Gag. Anyway, she got me this part-time job at the Snip Shack. Reception, hair sweeping. And I have to be there early tomorrow, so I’m supposed to be in bed like a loser.”
“What has he dragged you into?” Eden asked.
“Something that I should have dragged myself into years ago. Mind if I smoke?” she asked.
“Kind of,” Davis told her.
“Yeah,” Eden said.
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll wait.”
Eden peered out her window. “Where are we going?”
Davis pulled onto Main Street and whipped his SUV into a parking space in front of the police station. “Here.”
“I’m not talking to the police,” Eden announced, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Not there.” Davis rolled his eyes. “There.” He pointed up to where lights were blazing on the second floor. The offices ofThe Monthly Moon.
“Why didn’t you let me buy the razors?” Eden asked, gleefully hopping out of the car.
“Because we don’t need to shave his eyebrows. Ladies, if you’ll follow me.” Davis led them inside and up the brightly lit stairwell that smelled vaguely of stale coffee and old carpet. On the second floor, he paused outside the glass door labeledThe Monthly MoonWhere Blue Moon News Breaks First Once a Month. The tagline took up the entire door. “The plan is you let me do the talking until it’s Moon Beam’s turn to talk,” he said to Eden. “Got it? No screaming or punching or shaving. And no setting anything on fire.”
Eden and Moon Beam nodded solemnly, and he was instantly suspicious.
Davis tried the door and found it locked. He buzzed the button next to the door.
