Quick Fix (21 page)

Because if I did, I’d hurl again, and again, and never stop.

“Did you get a close look at the guy’s face?” he said, speaking urgently.

I must’ve looked confused. God knew, I
felt
confused.

“
Think,
Ciel. His face. Did you see it clearly?”

“Yes … no … I don’t know! The important thing is, I
thought
it was you. Honest.”

“No, the
important
thing is, we need to know if it was some random guy who looks like me, or if it’s an adaptor pretending to be me. One could be a coincidence, the other is most definitely not.”

“I … I never saw his whole face, I don’t think.” How could I when it was plastered by the lips to Monica’s? “But his hair … his build … his
shirt
—they were your clothes, Billy. I was just so
sure
it was you.”

“Okay, okay. We’ve established you thought it was me. You sit here. If it looks like anyone is heading to the grotto, stall them. I need to figure out what the hell is going on.”

Chapter 18

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

I grabbed my face, digging the heels of my hands into my eyeballs, trying to keep them from popping out of my head. It wasn’t helping.

Where was I? Afraid to open both eyes at once, I lifted one hand and tentatively slit a lid. Light trickled in, thankfully dim enough not to jar my brain. The surface beneath me wobbled, sending my whole body into a one-person equivalent of the stadium wave.
The waterbed in Billy’s childhood bedroom
. How the hell had I gotten here? Last thing I remembered, Billy was helping me to the bench, and then he was going to—

Shit!
Before I could contemplate the particulars, my stomach decided on a little wave action of its own. I sat up quickly, hoping to make it to the bathroom before I spewed. A tin wastebasket appeared magically beneath my chin.

“Go ahead. Get rid of it,” Auntie Mo said, her voice a mixture of censure and amusement. “I swear, Ciel Halligan, I can’t believe you made it through college without learning your limits. How many Manhattans did you have, exactly?”

Too busy following her instructions to answer right away, I held up three fingers. Thought a second, and changed it to four. “That I can remember,” I said, in the interest of honesty, when I finished.

She wiped my face with a damp washcloth and handed me a glass of water. “Here. Drink. Or if you can’t abide the notion of adding anything to your stomach, just rinse and spit.”

Disgusting as that last suggestion was, I did it. No way was my stomach accepting anything just yet. When Auntie Mo removed the wastebasket, I lowered my head onto my hands, my elbows resting on my knees, and gave voice to my biggest fear. “Does Mom know I’m here?”

“Not yet. She has enough to do supervising the party cleanup. I thought you and I might have a little chat and settle this ourselves. No need to worry Ro if it’s only a stupid
one-time
thing.” She arched a brow.

“Oh, it is definitely an aberration, Auntie Mo. I swear to God I never want to feel like this again.”

I guess I sounded sincere, because she gave a satisfied nod.

“And am I right in assuming my daughter is safely with James? That you at least saw to that before you went off on your little bender?”

“Uh, that’s right. Molly is with James.” True enough. Which was good, because nobody could sniff out a lie like Auntie Mo, except maybe Mom. No need to elaborate on any of the petty details, like whether or not Molly was still an ape. I mean, why upset Auntie Mo when it could very well be that Molly had succeeded in morphing back to herself? That would be needlessly cruel. Not to mention masochistic in the extreme, and present condition notwithstanding, I was no masochist.

“Thank God you had that much sense. So, are you going to tell me what set you off?”

“Uh…”

Billy’s voice cut in. “Come on, Mommo. It was the party. What other reason does she need?”

Oh, God. My eyes flew to his face. His expression was bland. Didn’t he remember
anything
? How could he be so blasé?

“No, that would be you or her brothers you’re thinking of. Ciel has never before used a simple family function—”

Billy snorted. “Simple? Ha.”

“—as an excuse to let go of all common sense. Something must be on her mind.” She skewered her son with her eyes. “And I
will
find out what.”

“Really, Auntie Mo, it’s nothing,” I said, my voice a little thready. I cleared my throat. “I just, uh, had a little too much fun, is all.”

“It’s Mark, isn’t it?” she said baldly.

I could feel confusion lay itself over my face. “Huh?”

“No need to pretend with me, Ciel. I know how you feel about him. It’s been obvious since you were a child. Did he at least try to let you down gently, sweetheart?”

“What?”

She grabbed me into a hug, pressing my face into her ample bosom. “Oh, my poor dear. Never you mind. It’s just not the same for men, especially not men like Mark. He’s a wonderful person but not the type to let a woman—any woman, not just you, dear—interfere with his work. But you will get over him, I promise. Tell her, Billy. Tell her there’s somebody better suited for her out there, just waiting to snatch her up.”

I tried to breathe. Looked desperately at Billy, whose eyes were dancing a jig in his head.

“Mommo’s right, cuz.
Mark’s
not the right guy for you. Now, come on. We have to go.”

“Don’t be silly. Ciel needs to rest. You should know that. You’ve recovered from your fair share of heartbreaks right here in this bed, young man, in much the same condition as your poor cousin.”

Huh? That was news to me. Billy was the designated heartbreaker, never the breakee. I screwed up my brow at him.

He shrugged it off. “We promised to help James with Molly this morning, and we can’t back out now. Right, Ciel?”

“Um, that’s right. Now I remember. Really, Auntie Mo, I’m feeling much better,” I lied. “I’ll just wash my face and brush my teeth—do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“You know I do. But—”

Billy took me by the elbow and led me to the bathroom right outside his bedroom door, fast-talking his mother the whole time. “Listen, Mommo, you know better than most how much experience I have with mornings after. Let me see to Ciel. Don’t you have enough to do with party cleanup? You’re not going to leave Auntie Ro to do it all by herself, are you?”

Auntie Mo looked torn. I could tell she wasn’t done with me, but she really couldn’t let my mother down, either. “All right then. You’ll see to getting Molly home after?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get her back here,” he said, adding “eventually” only after turning his back on his mother, who had already begun fluffing the pillows and straightening the covers on Billy’s bed. Auntie Mo liked to keep her hands busy.

Billy shoved me into the immaculate bathroom. The toilet looked damned inviting, though I wasn’t sure whether to sit on it or hang my head over it.

“Five minutes,” he said under his breath, “or I’m coming in after you.”

“Why did you have to bring me
here
? You know Auntie Mo will let it slip to Mom somehow,” I said, keeping my voice as low as his. It’s possible I sounded a bit whiny. The pounding in my head made it difficult for me to tell.

“This was close and I had access. Count yourself lucky you were breathing normally and had a strong pulse, or I would have taken you straight to the hospital to have your stomach pumped.”

He closed the door in my face, and I heard him continuing to talk to his mother. I avoided the toilet decision and went first for the sink. Splashed handful after handful of cold water on my face, and ran damp fingers through my short, wavy hair. Brushed my teeth with the tiniest useful bit of toothpaste I could manage. Finally snuck a peek at myself in the mirror. Not too bad if I adapted away the cracked-egg eyeballs and puffy bags. If I didn’t make any sudden moves, I might even get away with not having to barf again.

Billy was alone when I came back out. Not surprising. Mo was a bloodhound, but if anybody could throw her off the scent of trouble, Billy could. He’d had years of practice.

“So,” I said. “What’d you do with the body?”

*   *   *

The epic thunderstorm didn’t do my head a bit of good; I was drenched by the time Billy shoved me into the taxi, and damned lucky not to have been incinerated by a stray bolt of lightning. As soon as we got our seat belts buckled, the ceiling of the yellow van was aglow with flashing lights, and a vaguely familiar voice from the front seat said, “Hello, and welcome to the Cash Cab!”

Oh, great. The freaking game show on wheels I’d wanted to be a contestant on for, like,
ever
. I looked up, sure God could see me through the roof, and rolled my eyes. Ever heard of timing, Big Guy?

Billy unbuckled and reached for the door, ready to pull me out. I took one look at the pouring rain and yanked him back. No way was I going back out into that, even if it meant answering a few questions on the way to wherever we were going. Besides, if we won I could sure use the cash.

“Ciel, we don’t have time for this,” he hissed through unmoving lips as the driver gave his opening patter.

I ignored Billy, soaking in the rules to the rolling quiz show, thrilled in spite of everything when I heard “So, what do you say? Do you want to play?” from the front seat.

“Yes!” I said.

“No!” Billy overrode me, and yanked me out the door behind him.

“Spoilsport,” I grumbled. Loudly, on account of the thunder.

Billy ignored me, hustling us toward a slow-moving cab. When it didn’t stop (duh—rain), he slapped the hood as it passed. The driver “saluted” as he drove by.

“Where’s your car?” I asked before I remembered, and choked. Recovering, I pretended I’d accidentally inhaled some of the rain.

Billy pounded my back—why do people think that helps, anyway? Seems to me it would just knock whatever you were choking on farther down your windpipe—and hurried me along to a patch of yellow three cars down, stopped at a light. He pulled open the back door and shoved me into the empty backseat.

“Hey, buddy—I’m off duty. Out.”

“I’ll pay you double the meter,” Billy said.

“Blow me,” the cabbie came back.

“Triple.”

“And swallow.” The cabbie lacked, shall we say, a certain level of couth.

Billy spat out an address and added, “Two hundred dollars if you get us there without opening your filthy fucking mouth in front of the lady again.”

Mr. Potty Mouth smiled, tipped an imaginary hat, and put his foot to the accelerator as the light turned green.

Dripping, I leaned close to Billy and whispered, “Where the hell are we going? That sounds like near where Bri’s band played last time I was in town.”

“It is. We’re meeting him there—he has to set up for tonight.”

“Bri? But why? What does he have to do with…” I glanced up front. The cabbie seemed oblivious. Probably already mentally counting his money. “… you know what.” It paid to stay nonspecific in front of strangers, even seemingly distracted ones.

“That’s what we’re going to find out. I saw his new girlfriend hanging around with Monica there last week. Seemed odd they would strike up a friendship. And now, with Monica missing—”

“Missing? Don’t you mean”—I went subvocal for the final word, figuring Billy would have no trouble reading my lips from this distance—“dead?”

“Maybe. She looked it, anyway. And now she’s gone.”

“But how can that be? I saw her. She was right there, um”—
bleeding all over
—“adding color to my parents’ grotto, for Pete’s sake. Hell, you
saw
.”

“Yeah,” Billy said very quietly. “And then
you
passed out and I had to make sure you were all right. For all I knew, someone had tried to kill you, too. When I went back to check on Monica, she was gone. So I parked you in my old room—you snore when you’re drunk, by the way—and then ran back to your parents’ place to search for her. Couldn’t find a trace of her. What I don’t know for sure is if she got out of there under her own steam or if she had help.”

I ignored his remark about my snoring, having no evidence with which to refute it. “She sure looked …
quiet
 … to me.”

“Maybe she wanted us to
think
she was ‘quiet.’ Something is not right about this whole thing, and I’m going to find out what.”

The cab’s horn blared and I jumped six inches off the seat. The cabbie’s evil eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Traffic. Whaddaya gonna do?” he said with a shrug. Asshole.

“God, I hate cabs,” I muttered.

Billy gave me an odd look. “Sorry. My car’s in the shop.”

Gulp. “Engine trouble?” I asked, doing my best to maintain an innocent façade. I hoped the raindrops still trickling from my hair masked the sudden bloom of guilt I felt in my cheeks.

“No. Needs some bodywork. Vandals.”

I swallowed. “Really? Gee, that’s, uh, too bad. Hope the damage wasn’t … extensive,” I finished lamely.

He looked at me, hard. “Ciel…”

I waited. He stared.

“What?” I said finally, biting my lip against the confession that was bursting to spring forth.

“Where did you go when you left the party last night?”

“Go?”

“Yes. Where?”

“Um, I went for a walk. I, uh, needed a little air. You know, one too many of Dad’s Manhattans.” I attempted a laugh; it came out sounding artificial. “When will I learn?”

The cab, which had been making pretty good time during this painful interlude, pulled up in front of the club before Billy could continue grilling me. Damn good thing, too, because if he kept drilling me with those eyes I just knew I’d spill my guts, and then he’d have another body to deal with. It would be wrong to put that on him on top of all this other stuff, so really I was doing him a favor by not confessing. I can be big that way.

The cabbie turned to face us, his greedy eyes expectant. “That’ll be—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Billy peeled two bills—hundreds—from a money clip as I got out. I was in kind of a hurry to put a little space between me and my cousin. Billy was quick, though, grabbing my elbow as he tossed the money at Mr. Smiley.