Bastien finished off his cocktail. “When things turn serious, it’s time for me to leave. What do you say, ladies? Would you like to go search out the clubs for some companionship ?”
“I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” Phoebe said with regret. “I should probably just go home now. But you’ll be at practice tomorrow, right?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I told Matthias I would.”
Despite ostensibly being involved in liquor analysis, Luis glanced over at the sound of the company manager’s name. “Oh? Did you arrange the introduction?”
I nodded. “Phoebe got me signed on.”
Luis looked pleased. “Excellent. Are you happy with it?”
The question surprised me, but then I remembered his earlier comment upon my arrival, about how he wanted happy employees. “I think so. I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”
“Good. And what did you think of Matthias?”
That one was really a surprise. “I thought he was nice. Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation,” said Luis. I was about to use the interruption to ask Jamie about Milton again, but before I could, Luis effortlessly slipped back to gin science, effectively blocking me from the imp’s attention. Tomorrow, I decided.
“You know,” said Phoebe slyly. “I could help you find Matthias if you wanted to see him tonight.”
Even afloat on vodka gimlets, I still knew the right and wrong surrounding any sort of casual romance with Matthias. If I was going to hook up with anyone while I was here, it wasn’t going to be anybody I would ever consider seriously.
I flashed her and Bastien my best saucy succubus smile. “Nah, too tame. I’m not here to settle down yet. Let’s find something wilder and do this Vegas weekend right.”
Bastien whooped with joy and caught hold of my hand. As he led me away, telling me about “this perfect dance club,” I caught sight of Luis’s face. He was nodding at Jamie, still seemingly interested in their debate . . . but there was something about the satisfied, knowing smile on Luis’s lips that made me think it wasn’t just the gin he was so happy about.
Chapter 9
It wasn’t until I landed in Seattle on Sunday evening that the full surreal nature of my weekend in Las Vegas hit me. Being there had felt so . . . natural. I suppose part of that was just having old friends like Bastien and Luis around. Yet I’d been pleasantly surprised at how easily I got along with my newer acquaintances, like Phoebe and Matthias. I’d even grown to like Jamie, though I never did see him after that night. Despite my efforts to find him and ask him about Milton, the imp had remained elusive for the rest of my trip.
And the show . . . how had that happened? I couldn’t even get a solid job here in my current hometown, yet hours after walking off the plane in a strange city, I’d landed what was, in many ways, my dream job. By the time we’d finished our second practice, Matthias was already talking about a special part he planned on creating for me, and several of the other dancers were so disappointed at me leaving for a month, you’d think we’d known each other for years.
It had, in spite of my misgivings, been a fantastic weekend.
Reality set in when I walked into my condo. Roman was out, with only a note reading Bowling practice tomorrow night to mark his passage. Naturally, the cats were as happy to see me as always. Scratching their heads in turn, I began to think about the logistics of moving both of them with me across state lines. I’d be taking them away from Roman, whom they loved, but there was nothing to be done for that. He couldn’t come with us. As a nephilim, he was in constant danger of being hunted down by other immortals, and it was only Jerome’s protection that allowed him to have a seminormal life in Seattle. Roman certainly wasn’t going to give that up, and besides, Las Vegas was probably the worst place in the world for him to attempt to hide out.
A vase of pink-tipped white roses sat on the kitchen table, filling the air with sweetness. I opened up the card and read Seth’s scrawled writing:
Welcome home. I’ve been counting the minutes.
—S
I texted him that I was back and received an answer urging me to come over to Terry and Andrea’s for dinner. After leaving a note for Roman assuring him I’d be at practice, I headed out, my mind still spinning with more of the consequences of moving. The condo. I’d have to sell it. Unless I wanted to rent it to Roman? Hell would likely compensate any moving costs, but it’d be up to me to start making the actual arrangements now for things like movers and whatnot.
I was good at making plans and organizing things, but all of my skills were useless against the one thing I wanted to bring with me to Las Vegas the most: Seth. I still had no solution for what to do with him.
I was met with the usual outpouring of love from his nieces when I arrived, just in time for a chaotic family dinner. With the additional family members, they’d given up any pretense of eating at the kitchen table and had simply taken their paper plates and homemade pizza off to the living room. The casualties of food and furniture were ones Terry and Andrea were long since used to, but Margaret couldn’t focus on her dinner for fear of constantly watching the girls and what she perceived as imminent tomato-stained disaster.
I was happy to see Andrea out with the family, which wasn’t something that happened very often lately. She looked tired but was in good spirits, and from the way the girls vied for position next to her, it was clear they were delighted to have her up and around too.
“Seth says you were out of town,” she told me. “Anywhere fun?”
“Las Vegas,” I replied. “Visiting friends.”
“Man,” said Ian. “I wish I had friends in Las Vegas.”
“I figured it’d be too commercial for you,” said Seth, deadpan.
Ian swallowed a bite of his pizza—it apparently wasn’t a vegan day—before responding. “Only if you stay on the Strip and their overpriced luxury hotels. If you poke around in some of the out-of-the-way places, you could find some really cool and obscure dives.”
It took nine-year-old Kendall to say what the rest of us were thinking. “I’d rather stay in luxury. Why would you want to stay in a dive, Uncle Ian?”
“Because it’s nonmainstream,” he told her. “Everyone stays at the nice places.”
“But I like nice things,” she argued. “Don’t you?”
“Well, yes,” he said, frowning. “But that’s not the point—”
“Then why would you want to stay at bad places?” she pressed.
“You’re too young to understand,” he said.
Seth chuckled. “Actually, I think she understands perfectly.”
Andrea decided to rest shortly after that, but not before extracting a promise that someone deliver her dessert later on. After doing dishes (which was pretty easy with paper plates), our group dispersed into separate activities. Kendall, Brandy, Margaret, and Terry started up a game of Monopoly while Kayla and the twins settled down to watch The Little Mermaid. Ian joined them, excited for the chance to show how the movie was an example of capitalism destroying America. Seth and I curled up on a nearby loveseat, ostensibly to watch the movie, but instead used the time to catch up.
“How was it, really?” he asked me in a low voice. “I’ve been worried about you. Was it as bad as you thought?”
“No,” I said, leaning my head against his chest. “It was actually . . . pretty good. Would you believe I have a job already ? Like . . . one that’s not on Hell’s payroll.”
“You can’t even get one of those here,” remarked Seth.
“Yeah, the irony’s not lost on me. I’m going to be a Vegas showgirl, complete with sequins.”
Seth trailed his fingers through my hair. “That’s actually kind of awesome. And hot. If you want to practice, I’d be more than happy to give you some constructive criticism.”
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
There was a long pause. “So . . . it’s real. This whole thing.”