CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE SCHRÖDINGER’S CUPCAKE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SCHR?DINGER’S CUPCAKE
LUNA
The dessert version of Schrodinger’s Cat tempted me on the bar, but I’d always been good at delayed gratification. I ignored the box that either contained exact replacements or my pending rage. I introduced myself to the gorgeous woman.
Well, I was going to, at least.
Before I could say anything, she beat me to it. A grin split her face. “Lo, finally!”
What the…?
I was all for people being happy to see me.
It obviously wasn’t something that happened all the time at my job.
Suspects rarely greeted me with a wide smile and glee.
Even victims didn’t like the fact they were victims in need of police, and they certainly didn’t like having to replay their trauma every time they saw me.
But O’s joy was a bit much.
Questionably so.
She’s not the actor Glitch is. She’s overplaying it to hide her true feelings about me being there.
But then things got even more confusing when she shoved the box toward me. “Take this. Hide it somewhere. Maybe the safe.”
Oh shit.
“Why? What is it?” I asked.
She blinked. “I thought you knew.”
I thought I did, too. But my expectation didn’t require stashing it away in a safe. I had no idea what would call for that.
I knew better than most not to judge a book by its cover. I’d seen old ladies run prostitution rings. Suburban couples operating pill mills from their rumpus rooms. MIT nerds running an elaborate gambling operation that cut any sort of taxation out of the crypto winnings.
Okay, that last one was probably more expected, but they’d been the nerdiest nerds to ever nerd.
If I had seen the three friends on a TV show, I would’ve rolled my eyes at how stereotypically they’d been portrayed—right down to the asthmatic mouth breathing and cracks in their panicked voices.
I had a hard time picturing them jaywalking, much less committing extensive financial crimes.
But even with my training and instincts to never trust anyone, I wouldn’t guess Piper had her hands in anything illegal that she transported via bakery boxes.
“Catch dropped them off.” O caught my own slow blink and amended, “The prospect.”
My hope returned, though I couldn’t stop myself from getting momentarily distracted. “His name is Catch?”
I didn’t know any of the bikers’ backstories for their road names, but they still somehow made sense. Hollywood looked like a Hollywood. Haze was a Haze.
Catch, though?
It was likely the grudge speaking—and also that stupid mustache—but he didn’t seem like a catch to me.
I already knew I wasn’t the only one who thought so since Glitch had mentioned O got bad vibes. I still wasn’t expecting the sneer she gave.
Note to self: Don’t get on her bad side.
“If you ask him, he’ll say it’s because he used to play baseball,” she said. “But it’s because he’s got no game. He can’t even catch a biker bunny. Actually, from what I’ve heard, he couldn’t make a banshee scream.”
Yikes.
That was unfortunate, yet not at all surprising.
Her voice lowered like we were swapping secrets.
“I get the feeling he thought joining the club would help, but they’re not miracle workers.
Not to mention, getting laid isn’t what Mayhem is about.
” She flashed me a wicked smile as she turned in her stool, giving me my first unobstructed view of her pregnant belly. “That’s just a bonus.”
Like when I’d been at the bakery, that yearning part of me wanted nothing more than to settle in to talk to the friendly woman.
Not because she might divulge something.
If I were to assemble a list of possible informants, she would be at the bottom of my list. Because unlike the equally friendly women from the day before, she wasn’t all soft edges.
There was a sharpness to her that I knew was mirrored in me.
I simply wanted to chat for the fun of it.
Before I could, though, I had to ask, “So, um, why do I need to lock the box in the safe?”
She gestured down to her belly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m approximately five thousand months pregnant.
Growing a tiny human is hard work. No, it’s hungry work.
That damn box has been taunting me ever since Catch dropped it off.
” She held up her hand with her thumb and index finger nearly touching.
“I was this close to eating it and letting him suffer the consequences. I didn’t even care that he had to drag his ass out of bed early, go to the store for the ingredients, and then do chores and work the register at Sweets You Rock in exchange for her remaking whatever it was he’d eaten.
But I didn’t want to make you miss out for the second day in a row.
Oh, and also Judge said we’d go when we’re done here, and I could clear out every shelf if I wanted.
” She shrugged. “But mostly, it’s the whole me-being-a-selfless-angel thing. ”
God, I like her.
“I appreciate your sacrifice,” I said solemnly as I finally allowed myself to take a seat.
“I’m a girl’s girl. But maybe get it away from me before I snatch it and run. Waddle. Whatever.”
I tugged the box closer and laughed when I saw the multitude of stickers that lined the closure like evidence sealing tape.
None looked messed with, which was a promising sign.
I scanned around the bar for something I could use to cut through it.
I would’ve settled for one of those little plastic swords used for garnishes, but there were none.
I settled for carefully ripping through each one as I said a silent prayer to the patron saint of sugar that I wasn’t completely mangling the contents each time the cardboard stretched and smooshed.
When I broke through the last one and opened the lid, I saw it wasn’t an exact replacement.
It was three exact replacements. And they somehow looked even better than the ones the day before.
I silently thanked my saint, O for not devouring them in secret, and even Catch. He’d put in a lot of effort to make it happen. If I found out that he’d been the one to triple his payment, and it wasn’t only Piper’s doing, I would even drop the grudge I’d planned to hold until the end of time.
Grabbing cocktail napkins, I set them down. “Cookie, cupcake, or both?”
She must’ve truly been a selfless angel because she waved away my offer. “That’s okay. You’ve earned these. Glitch told us about you going all badass on Catch.”
I grimaced and hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Going badass, being dramatic and making a scene. Potato, po-tah-to.”
“Not dramatic. I probably would’ve kicked him in the dick until he was peeing rainbow sprinkles. Or let Judge cut his tongue out for upsetting me.” She flashed a smile. “I’m kidding.”
That last part was the first thing she’d said all conversation that didn’t ring quite true.
Definite edge.
It didn’t lessen how much I liked her. An emotion I backed up with action and sacrifice. “There’s three of each. I could knock off two, but not all three. And since I haven’t eaten today, scarfing down all three on an empty stomach would cause the mother of all sugar crashes.”
She looked tempted again before her gaze darted toward the hallway. “You don’t want to share with Rhys?”
“No,” I said instantly, making her laugh.
He mocked my pajamas and is keeping secrets.
Indecision still warred on her face for a moment before she nodded. “Then both, and I’ll name my baby after you.”
“Please don’t.” I didn’t mind my name, but the damn wizard connection and the moon-equals-naked-butt humor had made for easy jokes. “Grand Jury is a much better option.”
She laughed again, harder that time. “Regular Jury told you about that, huh? I’m almost tempted to commit to the bit just because it outrages him so much.”
I put one of each on cocktail napkins and pushed them over. “Do you have any names in mind?”
She shrugged as she took a bite. Her lids instantly lowered, and she made a happy little squeal.
One I echoed unconsciously as soon as I bit into the buttery, jammy cookie.
Swallowing, she answered, “Not really. She’s a, well, a she. And I kind of want a vowel first name since my name starts with O.”
“Yes. Your name. That I totally know.”
She stopped with her own cookie nearly to her mouth. “I just launched right in without an introduction, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I’m Ophelia, but a select few are allowed to call me O.” She finally took a bite, the same look of sweet bliss on her face. “That definitely includes you.”
I put my hand to my chest. “I’m honored.”
“As you should be.”
After peeling off the pretty liner, I was about to take a bite when my unruly hair cupcake-blocked me.
After my abrupt wakeup call and rushed morning routine, I’d hurriedly pulled it into my usual bun, but not the tight kind I wore for work.
As a consequence, the front pieces kept sliding free.
I pushed them out of the way and heard a gasp.
“Your forehead.” Ophelia sprung from the stool, and I nearly dropped my cupcake as I instinctively braced to catch her.
Somehow, she didn’t weeble or even wobble.
Her balance was fine, it just seemed like her belly should’ve thrown her equilibrium way off.
She was my height but much thinner. She didn’t have thick thighs to help with the additional cargo.
My words were frantic. “What’re you doing?”
“Shh.”
I wasn’t used to being shushed. Actually, I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had tried it.
It threw me, and she took advantage of my momentary stupefaction by grabbing my face to tip it down.
“What’re you doing?” I repeated, though that time the question wasn’t frantic. It was garbled since she had my cheeks squished.
“Checking your forehead.”
The scrape was healing, but the splotchy, yellowing bruise was still in its ugly phase. It barely hurt anymore, though. Not unless something pushed against it.
Which was exactly what Ophelia did.
I hissed out a breath.
Maybe my affinity toward her isn’t mutual.