Read Online Dead Girl Dancing by Linda Joy Singleton - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Joy Singleton
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with water doesn’t sound very fun.”
“It’s plenty of fun for the guys watching from the audience,” Warren retorted.
“You would say that,” I replied, frowning.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he accused, his muscular shoulders straining at the seat belt as he twisted around toward me. “You know, I’m getting tired of your attitude. I’ve been really friendly to you, so why are you so cold?”
“He’s right, Rayah,” Sadie agreed. “You’ve been rude to him.”
“Did I do something to piss you off?” Warren asked.
“Of course not.” I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat belt. “I’m just not feeling social after a rough night.”
“I warned her not to stay out so late,” Sadie added with a reproachful glance back at me. “Don’t take it personal, Warren. She’s cool with your being here. Right, Rayah?”
What else could I do but nod?
Time to change tactics, I decided. If Warren wanted to get aggressive, I could, too—but in a more subtle way. Remembering advice from a book on dealing with awkward social situations called Disarming Your Enemy With a Smile, I decided to turn this conversation into a fact-finding opportunity.
I summoned my most disarming smile. “If I’ve been rude—sorry.”
“No problem,” Warren said.
“Sadie’s right, I’ve been a grouch. I’m a little hung-over still, but that’s no reason to take my bad mood out on you.”
“I’ve been hung-over, too, and it bites,” Warren replied. “Lucky for you, I give great neck rubs. When we stop, I’ll massage away your pain.”
And try to suck away my energy , I thought suspiciously .
Trying to be polite, just in case he wasn’t an energy vampire, I pasted on a smile. “Sure, that sounds cool.” Then, with stealth purpose, I added, “While you’re massaging, I’d like to try on your gloves. The dragon design is cool and the leather looks so soft.”
“Forget it. No one wears them but me.”
“You can’t give a massage with gloves,” I argued.
“Yeah, I can. It’s better that way.”
“I’d love a massage,” Sadie said, her hand on the steering wheel as she turned toward Warren.
“Sure, babe.”
“But Rayah’s got a point about the gloves. I’d rather feel your strong hands on my shoulders.”
“It’s either with gloves or not at all. I don’t take them off in public; they’re my personal icon.” His tone was friendly but when he waved his hands my direction, I felt a chill that made me shiver despite the stuffy warmness inside the car.
Sadie took Warren’s words as a challenge and spent the next few miles trying to bribe him to take off his gloves. No matter what Sadie offered, Warren refused. Definitely suspicious.
This would be a great time for another Temp Lifer to pop in. I sent a silent message to Grammy Greta, clasping my fingers together as if praying. And to my surprise, I felt something—a warm sense of calm and a light caress on my shoulder. Then it was gone. Had I imagined it? Or had Grammy given me a pat on the back to encourage me to keep trying?
Only I don’t know what to try, I thought, staring down at my hands.
Not my hands. Those pale bony fingers were loaners; without freckles and stubby fingernails. There was a whitish tan line around the ring finger on the left hand that I hadn’t noticed before. Sharayah must have worn a ring for months to develop a tan line. I wondered why she stopped wearing it. Did it have anything to do with the mysterious boyfriend Gabe?
As I puzzled over this, a noisy breeze blew in from Sadie’s open window, swirling my hair in my face. I inhaled a blend of smog and salty air that made me think of the ocean. We were still far from the Pacific, but I’d be able to see it soon. I loved, loved, loved the ocean. I hadn’t been to the ocean in a long time, not since my family doubled in size and we were shackled with adorable but demanding triplets. It would be so wonderful to kick off my shoes, run on the warmed sand,
“It’s plenty of fun for the guys watching from the audience,” Warren retorted.
“You would say that,” I replied, frowning.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he accused, his muscular shoulders straining at the seat belt as he twisted around toward me. “You know, I’m getting tired of your attitude. I’ve been really friendly to you, so why are you so cold?”
“He’s right, Rayah,” Sadie agreed. “You’ve been rude to him.”
“Did I do something to piss you off?” Warren asked.
“Of course not.” I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat belt. “I’m just not feeling social after a rough night.”
“I warned her not to stay out so late,” Sadie added with a reproachful glance back at me. “Don’t take it personal, Warren. She’s cool with your being here. Right, Rayah?”
What else could I do but nod?
Time to change tactics, I decided. If Warren wanted to get aggressive, I could, too—but in a more subtle way. Remembering advice from a book on dealing with awkward social situations called Disarming Your Enemy With a Smile, I decided to turn this conversation into a fact-finding opportunity.
I summoned my most disarming smile. “If I’ve been rude—sorry.”
“No problem,” Warren said.
“Sadie’s right, I’ve been a grouch. I’m a little hung-over still, but that’s no reason to take my bad mood out on you.”
“I’ve been hung-over, too, and it bites,” Warren replied. “Lucky for you, I give great neck rubs. When we stop, I’ll massage away your pain.”
And try to suck away my energy , I thought suspiciously .
Trying to be polite, just in case he wasn’t an energy vampire, I pasted on a smile. “Sure, that sounds cool.” Then, with stealth purpose, I added, “While you’re massaging, I’d like to try on your gloves. The dragon design is cool and the leather looks so soft.”
“Forget it. No one wears them but me.”
“You can’t give a massage with gloves,” I argued.
“Yeah, I can. It’s better that way.”
“I’d love a massage,” Sadie said, her hand on the steering wheel as she turned toward Warren.
“Sure, babe.”
“But Rayah’s got a point about the gloves. I’d rather feel your strong hands on my shoulders.”
“It’s either with gloves or not at all. I don’t take them off in public; they’re my personal icon.” His tone was friendly but when he waved his hands my direction, I felt a chill that made me shiver despite the stuffy warmness inside the car.
Sadie took Warren’s words as a challenge and spent the next few miles trying to bribe him to take off his gloves. No matter what Sadie offered, Warren refused. Definitely suspicious.
This would be a great time for another Temp Lifer to pop in. I sent a silent message to Grammy Greta, clasping my fingers together as if praying. And to my surprise, I felt something—a warm sense of calm and a light caress on my shoulder. Then it was gone. Had I imagined it? Or had Grammy given me a pat on the back to encourage me to keep trying?
Only I don’t know what to try, I thought, staring down at my hands.
Not my hands. Those pale bony fingers were loaners; without freckles and stubby fingernails. There was a whitish tan line around the ring finger on the left hand that I hadn’t noticed before. Sharayah must have worn a ring for months to develop a tan line. I wondered why she stopped wearing it. Did it have anything to do with the mysterious boyfriend Gabe?
As I puzzled over this, a noisy breeze blew in from Sadie’s open window, swirling my hair in my face. I inhaled a blend of smog and salty air that made me think of the ocean. We were still far from the Pacific, but I’d be able to see it soon. I loved, loved, loved the ocean. I hadn’t been to the ocean in a long time, not since my family doubled in size and we were shackled with adorable but demanding triplets. It would be so wonderful to kick off my shoes, run on the warmed sand,
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