Tiny Glitches: A Magical Contemporary Romance (13 page)

“We’ll find her.” At my skeptical look, Hudson added, “Trust me, I know how to search for someone.
If
I could find a phone that works.” Hudson glared at his cell phone. It was a different one than before, I thought. White instead of black. Flat instead of a flip phone. He must have picked it up from his office. And then I’d pressed against him on his bike.

The captain’s hat and hipster glasses had disappeared during our search, replaced by the strange plastic and metal miniature city armor. This time I could see it wasn’t a city. The taller constructions resembling skyscrapers had no windows. The lines in between the buildings looked like roads, but they were made of gold and resembled the kind of tracks driven by cars at Disneyland. It made no sense, so I ignored it.

“Maybe I can find something,” I said. “I went to school with her, and that’s how she remembered me. Maybe there’s a clue in some of my old high school stuff. Something that will jog my memory.”

“Okay. We’ll go by your place first, then to my work.”

Getting back on his motorcycle was less of an option than going to Hudson’s work. One ride had pushed my luck. A second ride, especially before the bike had a chance to fully recover, could prove suicidal.

“Perhaps we should split up,” I suggested. “We’d work faster that way.”

“Good point. And I could swing by home and change my clothes.”

Hudson headed for the door and I crouched by the cordless phone in the dining room, dialing Ari’s number from memory. We were miles from my house and I didn’t have the patience for the multiple bus transfers it would take to get me home. I needed a ride.

Hudson pounded across the kitchen and into the dining room.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Calling a ride.”

“Hang up!”

“No. Your phone isn’t working.” And this one would be dead soon, too.

“Shit. Is it ringing?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s too late.”

A slender metal tie wrapped around Hudson’s neck and pulled tight. Alarmed, I started to hang up when I heard Ari’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Grab a pen, Ari. Pink. Midnight.” I rattled off the address. Cordless phones never lasted long in my hand. Fortunately, when we were in high school, Ari and I had created a code that worked as well for notes slipped into each other’s lockers as it did for short phone calls: The time indicated urgency—the closer to midnight, the greater the urgency. The color corresponded with different common scenarios. Pink represented a guy of interest. Nothing would motivate Ari more than pink right now. Plus, I didn’t have a code color for “I’ve broken into the house of a crazy lady who gave me an elephant, and my only ride home is a motorcycle that’s going to break down if I stand near it.”

Static crackled through the line by the time I got to the street name. It died as Ari was saying, “What are you doing in—” No dial tone, just a dead phone.

“What’s it too late for?” I asked Hudson, hanging up the phone.

“Now your friend’s number is on Jenny’s phone records. Whatever bad shit she’s involved in, now there’s a link to your friend—and you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“But—” Crap! I’d already involved my aunt. Now I’d entangled my best friend in this mess. “What makes you think someone’s checking her phone records?”

“It’s what I planned on doing.”

“You can do that?”

Hudson ran his hand through his hair. A grotesque fish with a bloated body and mutant fins swam back and forth through his stomach. He paced into the kitchen and I followed him, more than ready to leave. When he spun around, I had to brace a hand on his chest to stop myself from slamming into him.

“Why’d you call someone to pick you up? I can drop you off.”

“This will be faster. Besides, you said your bike was starting to have some problems. I’m beginning to think it’s you who has horrible luck with vehicles.” My gut twisted with guilt at the accusation.

“I didn’t have bad luck until I met you.”

He said it like he meant it to come out as a joke, but it didn’t.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to pretend to be my boyfriend. You got yourself into this mess.” I clamped my mouth shut and crossed my arms. That wasn’t true. Hudson had wanted to go immediately to the police. If we’d done things his way, we’d already be free of Kyoko and Jenny. I’d been the one to insist we play along with Jenny’s demands, and he didn’t even know the fear that motivated me. Nevertheless, despite several opportunities to walk away, he’d done nothing but help. I, on the other hand, had broken his phones, sabotaged his motorcycle, and made a stupid mistake, ensnaring myself more deftly in Jenny’s crimes. If I was going to be angry, I should be angry with myself, not Hudson. I pushed my hair over my shoulder and reached for his arm. “Look, I’m sorry I made that call. It was stupid and I wasn’t thinking. I’m grateful I’m not in this alone.”

Hudson took a deep breath and released it. “I don’t regret it, pretending to be your boyfriend. I mean, it would have been nice to have had drinks first like I’d planned, but this has been . . . interesting, too.”

The pressure in my chest eased and I found a smile. “We can still get those drinks. Tonight. Come by my house. We can recap what we both find over a nice bottle of wine.”

“It’s a date.” Hudson’s soft smile curved his lips, and my heartbeat accelerated.

We locked the back door behind us and let ourselves out through the side gate. Hudson wanted to wait with me until Ari arrived, but I didn’t want to linger near Hudson’s bike. I finally convinced him to walk two blocks with me to a convenience store, where I grabbed a bag of Skittles and Hudson bought a small bag of Cheetos.

“Here.” I pulled my business card from my bag and scribbled my home address on the back when we reached Hudson’s bike. “It’d be best if you left before Ari arrives; otherwise, we’ll be here another hour explaining everything to her. And by everything, I mean you.” I eased away from his motorcycle.

Even as Hudson started to argue with me, I spotted Ari’s BMW pulling around the corner three blocks away.

“See that silver car?” I pointed. “That’s Ari. I’ll see you tonight. Say five-thirty?”

I trotted down the sidewalk, then zigzagged into the street to intercept Ari, not waiting for Hudson’s reply. Ari slowed as she pulled up beside me. A gray kitten clung to her shoulder—not real—and her face glowed with curiosity. I popped open the passenger door and looked back toward Hudson. He waved and pushed his helmet on, then eased his bike into the street and zipped away. I watched until he turned at the corner, body leaning into the curve. With a heavy sigh, I got into the boxy car and set my bag at my feet.

“Did that hot motorcyclist just wave at you?” Ari demanded.

“Yep. His name is Hudson.”

“Does Hudson by chance know where you were this morning?”

“And last night.” I grinned at Ari’s dropped jaw, purposely taking my time with the seat belt to make her squirm.

Ari was Italian, with olive skin and dark brown hair and eyes. She was several inches shy of my five-nine and twice as curvy. We were the same age, but Ari would always look younger: One flash of her deep dimples and she lost ten years. When faced with those dimples, teachers overlooked detention-worthy transgression, her parents turned to putty, and men of every profession and age fell over themselves to smooth the way for Ari, tearing up speeding tickets, opening doors to exclusive events, and once even holding the post office open an extra half hour.

“Details! I demand details, or this car isn’t moving.”

“If you don’t get this car moving, we’re not going to make it home.”

“Oh, sure. Play the curse card.” She gunned the BMW and we shot down the road after Hudson.

There was, unfortunately, a lot more to catch my best friend up on than Hudson. It didn’t occur to me to keep Kyoko a secret from Ari. She was my confidant and business partner. I trusted Ari with my life, and considering I had linked her to Jenny through my hasty phone call, I owed her an explanation. Plus, Ari’s help finding Jenny would be invaluable.

I found it impossible to keep my emotions in check while I recapped the last twenty-four hours, and the BMW was sputtering and coughing eight blocks before we reached my apartment. Ari executed an expert parallel park in front of a squat art deco apartment building, and we walked the last blocks. Having been my friend for over ten years, she was almost as used to electronic malfunctions as I was. Better still, she didn’t complain or even appear put out by the inconvenience. All her apparitions represented concern and curiosity, not frustration.

“Jenny Winters? Did I have a class with her?” Ari asked.

“Were you in my Honors English junior year?”

“Nope. So what’d you see on Hudson?”

I was surprised Ari had waited this long to bring the conversation back to Hudson.

“Hats,” I said. “Sombrero, sailor, a silver top hat from Monopoly. The silver terrier, too. A weird plastic and metal model of a city that isn’t a city. A full moon. Some hipster glasses. A marble cherub. Some creepy sea creatures. A rotten banana that drips slices. And, of course, a glowing broadsword.”

“Do you know what any of it means?”

“He’s in hero mode when he’s wearing the sword, and the Monopoly pieces always show up when he’s acting suspicious or frustrated, but the rest? Not a clue.”

“What did Aunt Sofie say?”

“To be open to love.”

Ari’s eyebrows arched high.

“Which means nothing. You know Sofie. She’s always trying to play matchmaker with me.”

“Hardly. Did she see something around you that indicated Hudson is special?”

“She claimed it doesn’t work that way—”

“But she saw your grandma and Theo together.”

“I made that point.”

“I think I need to call Sofie,” Ari said.

“I think Jenny and the elephant she dumped on me, not to mention the blackmail, takes precedence.”

“Over a man?”

I glanced at Ari, relieved to see she was kidding.

“I didn’t get a good look,” she said. “I mean, he’s got a hot body, I think. It’s always hard to tell under leather. He’s hot, right?”

“Like lava.” I replayed Hudson removing his shirt and that teasing glimpse of his backside. We trudged up the stairs to my loft, and I was granted a reprieve from Ari’s interrogation as she conserved her energy for breathing.

I lived in a loft at the top of a seven-story tower. No one lived beside me at the moment. The real estate company had given up on selling the next-door loft as well as the one beneath me, and a string of renters had broken their leases over the repeated electronic fritzes. I did what I could to dampen my curse when in public, but I deserved a place to relax as much as the next person. I countered my guilt by telling myself the sporadic tenants should expect some problems when they rented a unit for half the usual asking price.

If not for Sofie, I could never have afforded the beautiful loft, with its warm butterscotch-colored hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, and second-story loft-within-a-loft bedroom. My aunt owned the loft outright, and I chipped away at payments, but in my heart, it was all mine. One look at the bones of the loft, and more specifically at the series of glass doors opening along two entire walls to a long patio, and I’d fallen in love. Sofie had let me choose every interior detail, from the smooth glass railing of the bedroom stairs to the soapstone counters in the kitchen to the oval tub in the master bath. The comfortable mix of leather library furniture and period pieces filling my living room were all me, too.

I’d lived in the loft for several years, and I still felt a thrill of possession every time I walked through the front door. Not even the hike up six flights of stairs could diminish my love for my home. The rest of the residents thought I was a glutton for fitness. They had no idea I had their safety in mind. The elevator operated at the opposite end of the tower from my loft and the stairs, protecting my neighbors from any influence I might have on the mechanics of that death box.

Ari was out of breath when we reached the top landing, and she put a hand on my arm to stop me. “I want to meet him,” she said between breaths. “Bring him over tonight for dinner.”

It wasn’t an offer.

“Ari—”

“Don’t ‘Ari’ me. I want to meet the man who”—pant—“has masqueraded as your boyfriend”—pant—“who has stolen an elephant with you”—pant—“and who has you breaking into houses.” Pant. “He’s either a terrible influence on you or a great one. And I think it should be a new rule in our relationship that I meet anyone who sees you in handcuffs.”

My middle-aged neighbor, Jed, chose that moment walk by, his trash in hand. He raised his eyebrows at me. “You need to have your safeties in place if you’re going to play rough, Eva,” he said. “Listen to Ari.”

Ari grinned. “Thank you, Jed. So you think I should meet Eva’s new boyfriend, too?”

“You have a boyfriend? And I’m finding out now? Like this?” Jed gestured to the trash bag and his laundry-day house shorts and faded Hawaiian top. He peered behind us down the stairs.

“He’s
not
my boyfriend,” I protested. “And you don’t have to worry, Jed. He’s not here.”