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“Oh my God, what did you say? What did you do? What were you wearing? Is he still the hottest therapist on legs?”

I shouldn’t have called Kinsey. What was I thinking? I console myself with the knowledge it would have come out sooner or later. The woman has drama radar. Better to rip off the Band-Aid now than to wait until the wound is festering.

Riiiip.

“After I stared at him like a creepy stalker for a minute, I said hello. Then I served them lunch because that’s my job. I was wearing leggings and the café’s T-shirt, and yes, he’s still hot. Five-o’clock shadow, windblown hair, freaking six-foot-two inches of tanned, toned, take-me-home and bend-me-over hotness.”

Kinsey sighs dreamily. “Was he wearing his glasses?”

“Nope.”

Another sigh. “Did he smile at you?”

Jesus.

“Yes, and he still has all his teeth, too. It’s been less than four months, Kins. Not ten years.”

She laughs. “Oh, Mia, you’re so funny. I miss your face! Come over tonight. Nix and I are ordering Thai in a bit.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “We had dinner the night before last. Plus, I grabbed food before leaving work.”

“Whatever. You’re still coming tomorrow night, aren’t you? You promised.” She says the last in a cajoling singsong.

Ah, yes, the much-anticipated Halloween party. Anticipated on her end, that is. I’d rather stab myself in the eye than hang out at Kinsey’s with a shit-ton of Hollywood’s young and restless, but she’s right. I did promise.

“Yes,” I grumble.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re dressing up as? The curiosity is killing me.”

“Not a chance.”

“But—”

“Gotta go! Say hi to Nix and don’t forget to use a condom.” I hang up before she can reply.

Ferdi’s head lifts from my lap, disturbingly perceptive green eyes meeting mine. I sigh. “I guess I should think about a costume, huh?”

Slow blink, which I translate as cat-speak for Duh.

31

WALK THE PLANK

“Are you serious?” deadpans Kinsey.

I look down at myself, then frown at her. “What do you mean? This costume is classic.”

“Classic like boring.” Laughing, she tugs at the zipper of my wetsuit that sits near my throat. “Zombie Surfer? Really?”

I shrug. “Maybe it’s not original, but my makeup is on point. I freaking spent two hours watching YouTube tutorials.”

Her nose scrunches. “Yeah, the makeup is pretty good. You look freaky.”

I know exactly why she’s giving me a hard time, but it’s more fun to skirt around the issue. Her own costume is a sexy version of Alice in Wonderland, which means Nix is probably the Mad Hatter. With a quick sweep of the room, I confirm that the ratio of exposed skin to clothing is drastically skewed. I, on the other hand, am wearing my scuba wetsuit, which covers me from wrist to ankle and is nice and thick.

The weather took a dive today and it’s actually chilly tonight. I’m going to be comfortable hanging outside, where the main party is going on, while everyone else is going to freeze.

Basically, I’m a genius.