Chapter Two Evie
Chapter Two
Evie
“Who wants this?”
I shoot my hand into the air, irritation all over my face. “Me. I do.”
Noah, Goldie, Chase, and I have been waiting around in the lobby of the theater since the cops arrived. And since we discovered that the heart was fake, just like the blood.
It was still way too close for comfort.
Doppelg?nger Jenko hands me the bag with a smile on his face. “I’ve never given a girl her own heart before, only mine.”
Eww. I scowl, curling my fingers around the bag.
Chase huffs an unamused laugh, stepping in front of me and the cop, forcing me back another step unless I want to eat the shirt he’s wearing.
“Yeah, okay, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Let’s dial back the charm and leave some for the rest of us. Plus, shouldn’t you keep that as evidence?”
I’m nodding, as is Goldie, who is firmly tucked under Noah’s protective arm instead of hidden like me. He hasn’t let her go since he and Chase came busting into the restroom. Jesus. I drop my eyes momentarily, still trying to shake off the lingering fear.
We’re okay, but what if . . .
Jenko’s partner joins us. I guess that makes him his Schmidt.
Cop number two shakes his head at his partner.
“Hey, what did I say earlier?” Jenko looks at Schmidt, but Schmidt holds up a hand and continues. “You’re not a real cop. You can’t do real cop business.”
Wait, what?
We all look at each other in confusion until the real cop addresses us.
“I apologize. This is Rio—he’s an actor. He’s doing a ride-along, researching a role. I am Officer Lewis, a real police officer.”
Rio smiles widely and makes finger guns at Chase. “Sorry, guys, but the Brooklyn Nine-Nine reference was such a compliment. Thanks, man.”
“You’re not welcome,” Chase says under his breath before I start to hand the evidence back but can’t because I’m trapped behind Chase.
So I push him aside, possibly ensuring the pointiest part of my elbow really digs in, as I groan, “Move.”
He grunts, grabbing his side, and whispers, “Ribs, Evil.” But I ignore him—because that’s what men deserve—and stand my ground. All five foot four of it as I extend the bag out in front of me.
“Did you already check the cameras—”
That’s all I get out before Officer Lewis shakes his head and cuts me off.
“Sorry . . . Rio got that part right.” He points to the bag in my hand, and my brows draw together.
“There’s no real crime here. The heart’s fake.
And I mean, you’ve got the vandalism, but the owner said there’s no point because this theater is sold and scheduled for demolition.
You guys were the last rental he allowed.
” He hooks his thumbs into the sides of his bulletproof vest. “Frankly, we see these kinds of pranks all the time in this business.”
Rio looks pleased with himself, but all I can focus on is that he just said no crime. What the hell?
Noah’s head draws back, drawing my attention. “You see fake hearts stabbed into walls referencing attempted massacres? Weird.”
The cop narrows his eyes on him, clearly not liking his tone. “We see petty offenses committed when someone makes these types of movies. You’d be surprised how common it is.”
“I bet I would,” Noah adds dryly before shaking his head.
“Hold on.” I breathe out, still stuck on the first part of what he said.
“What did you mean ‘no crime’? What about harassment?” I wiggle the bag.
“Isn’t that a crime?” My heartbeat picks up the pace.
“It’s obvious somebody re-created this from the original one I made to make a point.
So there’s no way this wasn’t a crime or just a prank, because this was Billy’s heart. ”
I hear Goldie’s intake of breath next to me. We don’t say his name. Ever.
Fake Cop exhales. “If I may . . .”
“You may not,” I answer immediately before Officer Lewis looks directly at me.
“Like I said,” Real Cop presses. “It’s a prank by some overly enthusiastic gore nerds. Besides, taking you all down to the station to fill out six hours’ worth of paperwork isn’t saving any lives. I suggest you guys go home, relax, and celebrate your big night.”
I shake my head quickly, my voice rising as I motion between the four of us.
“Relax? How? A psychopath that we Michael Myer’ed might be back from the dead . . . or worse, inspiring people from the grave. Do your job. We’re unsafe.”
I know how panicked I sound when I say the last part. How completely fragile it came out, but I can’t stop the way my heart is thudding and how my mouth suddenly feels dry.
Because fear never stops being my bestie.
“Exactly,” my sister echoes. “Do your job. Investigate. Look at the cameras or something.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Noah squeeze my sister closer.
Officer Lewis looks between us, but Flaw and Order leans in toward me, making me blanch as he winks.
“Speaking of dead people . . . You know I was an extra on The Walking Dead? I played Finger-Eating Zombie Number 1, which was distinctive because I had a line . . . well, it was more of a grunt, but I really committed. I’d love to show you my reel over a drink.”
I blink back rage. Never did I ever think I could dislike someone more than I hate Chase, and yet . . . He must know I’m thinking about him because when I open my mouth to launch a string of expletives at this wannabe actor, I can’t.
Two exacting words silence the room.
“Back up.”
My head turns quickly to Chase, whose jaw is tense as he stares back at Phony-Copony. Whoa.
I’m so stunned that it takes me a minute to catch up. What is he doing? Still, I roll my eyes, ready to tell both guys to shut up, until Officer Lewis frowns, looking between the two men.
“Let’s keep cool heads here.”
I’m about to say Yes, let’s keep cool heads and realistic expectations. Nobody likes either of you, but Noah beats me to it.
“Chase,” Noah calls from beside us like he’s saying Chill.
Oh god, if he gets arrested for this, I’ll never be able to escape him.
My mother really will try to force me into an arranged marriage like we’re in a modern-day version of Bridgerton.
Except Chase would be the diamond of the season, and I’d be the grumpy, unwilling scoundrel one eye roll away from permanent damage.
If I believed in God, I’d start a prayer circle right now for his freedom because the alternative is actually more terrifying.
There are a few more beats of silence as thick tension hangs in the air, making it hard for everyone to breathe. I wish I had the over/under on who gets tased first.
But before I’m actually forced to worry, Officer Lewis slaps a hand on Rio’s chest and moves him backward, then looks at the future recipient of Will Smith’s slap, adding, “We don’t flirt with civilians on the job.”
Chase smirks, but Rio raises his brows, clearly embarrassed, before he throws out, “Flirting would be asking her to accompany me to the opening of 617 West next month.”
My “Jesus Christ” comes out at the same time Chase says, “We’re booked.” But apparently, Rio only hears Chase because his face whips to our very own Top Chef kids’ edition.
“Hold on. You’re the Chase Beckett. Sorry, man, I didn’t recognize you.” He slaps Officer Lewis’s shoulder. “This is the guy I was telling you about today. The owner of the hottest restaurant to hit LA since ever.”
Chase grins. “All good.”
I all but turn in a circle, throwing my arms and bagged heart in the air.
Jenko and Schmidt look at each other excitedly before Real Cop says, “Oh, wow, we’re both big foodies.
I was actually reading about you in the LA Times the other day.
Loved the part where you called vegans joy haters.
You know the writer called you the Michelangelo of food.
Said they saw a few Michelin stars in your future. ”
Kill me. What is happening? Did everyone suddenly forget there could be a lunatic on the loose?
Chase chuckles. “I read that. You never know what will happen, but the Michelangelo thing was clever because I actually did sketches of the food for the menu like he did for his grocery lists . . .”
Oh my god. I may die of proximity to smugness before anyone stabs me.
“Excuse me. Can we get back on track?”
I’m ignored again. Dammit, I hate being short. Tall people never pay attention to anything below their chest equator. So I put the bagged heart between my teeth and clap my hands together hard, drawing everyone’s attention. And their silence.
Thank you.
I pull the bag from my mouth and smile, but it comes off the way I mean it—annoyed.
“Michelangelo was illiterate—that’s why he sketched,” I bite out. “So I guess you’re in perfect company.” I turn my attention back to the cops. “But I assume everyone here can read. So how about we try it on the room?”
Noah snorts a laugh, but my sister swats his chest. I continue.
“Maybe this was just a prank, but two things can be true. We were almost killed eighteen months ago. And now, someone’s writing ‘She’s mine’ in corn syrup using a replica of my heart. It doesn’t take a genius to see someone wanted to scare us.”
Rio raises a finger like he’s going to speak again, but I level my gaze on him. “No, no . . . do not say a word. Not a damn word.”
He shrugs, wincing. “Maybe just one . . . sound bath.”
“That’s two,” I growl, but he keeps talking.
“It really works for calming and reining in thoughts that get away from you.”
“Oh my god . . . the only bath I want to see is one I can hold you under . . .” I’m glaring at him as I take a slow step forward. I can feel my chest rising and falling too quickly as I grip the damn heart bag in my hand tighter. “This is not a movie, Chips—”
I’m so mad that I’m pretty sure the worried look now on his face is justified.
“—it’s our fucking life. So while you’ve been pretending to run from bad guys, we’ve been doing it IRL. So quiet on the set, dick.”
I raise my arm, ready to shove the heart directly into his chest, when I hear “Evie” . . . “Shit” . . . and a chuckle.