Page 51 of Donut Disaster
Noah scoots his seat close to mine. “What do you think?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the stage. “Elite entertainment?”
“More like an overpriced talent show. Let’s check out the menu.” I pull it forward, and we appraise the selections. “A serving of foie gras at fifty-eight dollars a pop? Cordyceps quiche seven hundred and fifty dollars?” My mouth falls open. “There’s nothing on this menu for less than fifty dollars. Noah, I don’t even know what a cordycep is.”
Noah’s eyes dart down the menu, and he moans like he might be sick. “It says here it’s a fungus picked in the Himalayas.”
I grunt at the thought. “You know what would be fun for us? Hanging out withmyHimalayans.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Why don’t we eat light and we’ll pick up a pizza at Mangias on our way home?”
Something melts deep inside of me when he says it. For a moment, I can trick myself into believing that we’re married. That home is where we both happen to live. That Noah Fox is my very own legally wedded husband. I completely blame Lainey for that matrimonial fantasy.
“I would absolutely love that.” I pick up his hand and marvel at this beautiful man. “Why does it always feel so natural with you?”
Noah presses that verdant gaze of his into mine. “Because we’re meant to be together, Lottie,” he says it low, like a secret. “I’m sorry we got derailed, but I’m thankful you’re still speaking with me.”
A small laugh bubbles from me. “It would be foolish for me to ignore the hottest homicide detective in all of Vermont.”
“Just Vermont?”
“Okay, the Milky Way. Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
His expression sobers a notch.
“I’m glad to hear it. For a second there, I was afraid I had gotten rid of you without meaning to.” He pulls my hand forward and kisses the back, his eyes never leaving mine. The scruff on his cheeks looks adorably soft, and I run my fingers to confirm this.
“All right, lovebirds,” a voice sings from above.
We look up to find a man with a bowtie, no shirt, holding a notepad ready to take our order. I suppose it could be worse, no pants.
Noah and I settle for the Strand’s signature cheeseburger and fries at fifty-nine dollars—a dish we will have to split no less. It boasts of Kobe beef and cheese from a coveted pink cow that neither of us has ever heard of before and, of course, it is generously garnished with caviar. And once it comes out, we quickly discover it tastes suspiciously like just about any cheeseburger you could pick up at the Honey Pot.
The next act is announced—Queen of the Sky.
The room goes dark for a moment before a high-pitched buzzing sound pulses through the speakers growing in volume, slowly picking up a backbeat as a pink spotlight shines near the cavernous ceiling. Down comes a body, floating effortlessly, spinning. It’s a woman wearing nothing but a gold sequin leotard, her bare legs flashing like lightning as she twirls down toward the stage. The audience gasps at once as soon as we’re able to see she’s not supported by any sort of ropes or leashes. The only thing keeping her from falling to the ground is the bit in her mouth.
“Goodness”—I lean in to Noah—“God forbid she have to sneeze.”
“Good thing she’s got great teeth.”
Her feet hit the stage and the music switches up to a raucous country song that has all the feel-good vibes going for it, and my mouth falls open as soon as I spot that copper hair, that pink fuchsia smile.
“Noah, it’s her! It’s Anika! She’s the Queen of the Sky.” Queen of the Sky. I ponder this for a moment. It sounds awfully familiar.
We watch mesmerized as Anika shuffles herself from one side of the stage to the other, rolling her hips, shaking her shoulders. Her face is painted like a Kewpie doll, and there’s something unnerving about the entire display.
A bed is slid out to the center of the stage. Two men come out holding a giant ring between them. Anika starts in on backflips and front flips, falls into the splits, and hops back on her feet again. Every last part of my body is sore just watching the caustic display.
The room grows dark again, and the men set the hoop on fire.
I give Noah’s hand a hard squeeze just as Anika dives right through it to a thunderous applause. A spiral of stars seems to flit right through afterward, and as the house lights come on, I spot an all too familiar spectral sitting on the bed right next to her.
“Cookie is here,” I say as the room lights up with cheers and howls of approval.
Anika runs to the edge of the stage and takes a bow in every direction.
“That was fantastic,” I say to Noah as we drum up an applause along with the crowd.
“That was something.”