Page 38 of The Sin Eater (Carnival of Mysteries #27)
Ezra
Six months later
J une in Seattle is its own beast. Some days are clearly summer-adjacent. Others deserve it when we call them Juneuary. After three years in this town, nothing surprises me, though I’m amused by people who dress for the calendar rather than the actual weather.
Today is definitely a Juneuary day, though it’s warmer than the last time we visited the Carnival. That’s where we’re headed again, although this time I’m driving Dorothy May.
Micah heard from Jett that the carnival would be back in town this weekend, so my first stop is a block off East Aloha St, near Volunteer Park.
Micah rents a small studio, and today his husband Anders is with him.
I double-park out front of his incongruously modern building and send a text to let them know I’ve arrived.
Anders comes out first. He’s at least as big as Damon, maybe taller, and kinda shaggy, with reddish-brown curls and the permanent shadow of a beard.
Micah’s right behind him, hair doing a full-Elvis and his smile wide.
They’re both dressed in black, both looking sexy and dangerous, and only Micah comes around the car to get in the back seat.
Anders stands there, arms crossed, gaze narrow. I roll down the window and ask, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re driving a classic.” He says it suspiciously, as if I somehow broke into a museum and came out with a Model T.
“I’m driving Dorothy May. Get in or get left behind.” I roll the window up and glance at Micah in the rearview.
He’s cracking up. “He’s kind of old school.”
“I guess.”
I put the car in reverse without taking my foot off the brake. Anders must hear the soft clunk when the gears change, because he does get in. “What year is this thing?”
“Sixty-seven.”
“You’re driving a nineteen sixty-seven Camaro?”
“Yup, and now you’re riding in it,” I say, at the same time as Micah says, “I told you he had a cool car.”
“No, but, this is a fucking classic.” Anders’ eyes are wide and he’s rubbing his palms over the seats. “Leather and everything.”
“V-8 engine and the original Nantucket Blue paint job, too.” I might be a little smug. “Only the best for Dorothy May.”
I pull out into traffic, pretending to ignore the whispers from the back seat.
“His car’s name is Dorothy May?”
“Yes, now stop being a dick and enjoy the ride.”
That makes me laugh all the way down 10 th Avenue.
I forgo the freeway and cut along the top of Eastlake to get to the U District, answering Anders’s questions about where I got the car and when.
“I inherited her from my grandmother and, regardless of her actual worth, she’s my most valuable possession. ”
Well, besides Damon, but he’s not really a possession. He’s my rock and my joy.
He’s also standing in front of his apartment building in jeans that wrap perfectly around his thighs and a purple hoodie. He’s ridden in Dorothy May before, and to be honest, his reaction was pretty damn similar to Anders’s. He climbs into the passenger seat and pulls me in for a kiss.
“Get a room,” Micah mock-whispers from the back seat.
Damon flips him off.
The carnival’s out at Marymoor Park again.
Dorothy May has a full tank and traffic’s not too bad, so I put all eight cylinders to work as we speed down the freeway.
Micah and I talk SPAM-shop—I’m nearly ready to be of some use to Geordi—while Damon and Anders talk baseball.
I guess Anders played in high school or some such and he can talk about some of the more arcane nuances of the sport that I don’t quite get.
What I do understand is that Damon dedicated most of his life to it, and now he’s putting the same sort of commitment behind becoming a private investigator.
It’s so dang cool.
We pull into the same parking lot between the tennis courts and the soccer field and walk up to the same arched entryway.
This time, though, there are quite a few differences.
Damon’s got an arm around my shoulders, for one thing, and it’s closer to seventy degrees than forty.
The person selling tickets waves at Micah and Anders like they’re old friends, and as we pass under the archway, the sun breaks through the clouds, sending out rays of amber light.
Mostly though, the whole vibe is friendly, welcoming. Our last visit had been overshadowed by secrets that have now come into the light. Damon and I stop right inside the gate and I brush a quick kiss on the side of his face.
Micah and Anders pass us by, laughing about young lovers.
Damon‘s hold on me tightens. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go have some fun.”
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