lips.
“ Intended ?” Jake said to me.
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“I told you, I’ll get to that later.”
“So why can we see this shit on each other?” Fal asked. “It’s not like we all share some steamy, secret circle-jerk fantasy.”
“Besides, we’ve already been there,” Jake said, turning his eyes up to Fallon as he fingered the base of his glass. “You and I have, that is.”
Todd looked back and forth between them. “Really? When?”
Jake dismissively waved a hand. “I don’t know. Way back.”
“Glad I made such an impression on you,” Fallon drawled.
“Oh come on, Fal, you know how it went.”
“How did it go?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Like two cousins trying to pretend they weren’t related,” said Jake with a shade of embarrassment. “A total bust.”
Summoning his pride, Fallon sat back and lifted his head and shoulders. “Not total .”
Jake arched one eyebrow—a bit of facial-muscle magic I found sexy as hell yet utterly mystifying, like being able to wiggle one’s ears. “As you’ll recall,” he said, “there was no consummation.”
“Where was I ?” Todd asked.
It appeared our favorite embalmer hadn’t been invited to the party. I wasn’t surprised, given how we all felt about Todd’s occupation. His slightly wounded, slightly woebegone look was both touching and amusing.
Fallon looked at Todd as if he’d just wondered aloud why ocelots didn’t wear cupcakes on their heads. “How the fuck are we supposed to know where you were?”
“I don’t think we were even sure of our own location,” Jake muttered.
As entertaining as I found this exchange, I tried to get the conversation back on track. “So each of you can honestly say the other two don’t interest you?”
“I’m willing to take a polygraph.” Jake reached for the margarita pitcher, poured himself more, then cursed because he’d forgotten the salt.
“Yeah, I’m over it,” said Fallon.
“Todd?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Jake had a point. That cousin thing gets in the way for me too.”
I gave the issue more thought. Okay, so why did they see the ravages of this affliction on each other?
“Maybe it’s a way of reminding you that you’re all in this together,” I said, trying to piece together my theory as I spoke. “You do share the same standards and attitudes when it comes to men, and you did try to score with that good-looking guy at the Foxhole. All of you did.”
Jake was watching me through narrowed eyes. “So you think his partner is behind this?”
“Yeah. I heard them talking. It’s not like the tall guy said he was going to slip some funky germ into your drinks, but Mr. Beautiful did seem concerned his partner was planning to do something .”
“You know,” Todd said, “a fungal or bacterial contaminant wouldn’t be an outrageous possibility if we had rashes everybody could see and physicians could diagnose and treat. But our situation is just…odd. It’s more like…like…”
“Voodoo or something,” Fal murmured, staring sightlessly at the table. When he lifted his gaze, he looked bereft. “How are we supposed to break it?”
“Break what?” Jake said impatiently. I could tell he was tense. He always got snappish when he was on edge.
“This spell.”
“There is no ‘spell', Fallon. Voodoo only works on people who believe in it, who think it’s doing something to them. Besides, how many voodoo practitioners live in the upper Midwest?” Then Jake put on what must’ve been his Minnesota-slash-Upper Michigan voice. “‘Yah hey dere, Lars, you givin’ up a chicken fer da cer’mony?’”
Todd snorted.
Fal shot Jake a vexed look. “Then you explain it, smartass,”
Jake sighed and turned to me. “You’re the one who got this ball rolling. You explain.”
“I can’t,” I admitted. “I don’t understand that kind of stuff. A spell is the only thing I could come up with. And if anybody looked capable of throwing some mojo
“ Intended ?” Jake said to me.
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“I told you, I’ll get to that later.”
“So why can we see this shit on each other?” Fal asked. “It’s not like we all share some steamy, secret circle-jerk fantasy.”
“Besides, we’ve already been there,” Jake said, turning his eyes up to Fallon as he fingered the base of his glass. “You and I have, that is.”
Todd looked back and forth between them. “Really? When?”
Jake dismissively waved a hand. “I don’t know. Way back.”
“Glad I made such an impression on you,” Fallon drawled.
“Oh come on, Fal, you know how it went.”
“How did it go?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Like two cousins trying to pretend they weren’t related,” said Jake with a shade of embarrassment. “A total bust.”
Summoning his pride, Fallon sat back and lifted his head and shoulders. “Not total .”
Jake arched one eyebrow—a bit of facial-muscle magic I found sexy as hell yet utterly mystifying, like being able to wiggle one’s ears. “As you’ll recall,” he said, “there was no consummation.”
“Where was I ?” Todd asked.
It appeared our favorite embalmer hadn’t been invited to the party. I wasn’t surprised, given how we all felt about Todd’s occupation. His slightly wounded, slightly woebegone look was both touching and amusing.
Fallon looked at Todd as if he’d just wondered aloud why ocelots didn’t wear cupcakes on their heads. “How the fuck are we supposed to know where you were?”
“I don’t think we were even sure of our own location,” Jake muttered.
As entertaining as I found this exchange, I tried to get the conversation back on track. “So each of you can honestly say the other two don’t interest you?”
“I’m willing to take a polygraph.” Jake reached for the margarita pitcher, poured himself more, then cursed because he’d forgotten the salt.
“Yeah, I’m over it,” said Fallon.
“Todd?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Jake had a point. That cousin thing gets in the way for me too.”
I gave the issue more thought. Okay, so why did they see the ravages of this affliction on each other?
“Maybe it’s a way of reminding you that you’re all in this together,” I said, trying to piece together my theory as I spoke. “You do share the same standards and attitudes when it comes to men, and you did try to score with that good-looking guy at the Foxhole. All of you did.”
Jake was watching me through narrowed eyes. “So you think his partner is behind this?”
“Yeah. I heard them talking. It’s not like the tall guy said he was going to slip some funky germ into your drinks, but Mr. Beautiful did seem concerned his partner was planning to do something .”
“You know,” Todd said, “a fungal or bacterial contaminant wouldn’t be an outrageous possibility if we had rashes everybody could see and physicians could diagnose and treat. But our situation is just…odd. It’s more like…like…”
“Voodoo or something,” Fal murmured, staring sightlessly at the table. When he lifted his gaze, he looked bereft. “How are we supposed to break it?”
“Break what?” Jake said impatiently. I could tell he was tense. He always got snappish when he was on edge.
“This spell.”
“There is no ‘spell', Fallon. Voodoo only works on people who believe in it, who think it’s doing something to them. Besides, how many voodoo practitioners live in the upper Midwest?” Then Jake put on what must’ve been his Minnesota-slash-Upper Michigan voice. “‘Yah hey dere, Lars, you givin’ up a chicken fer da cer’mony?’”
Todd snorted.
Fal shot Jake a vexed look. “Then you explain it, smartass,”
Jake sighed and turned to me. “You’re the one who got this ball rolling. You explain.”
“I can’t,” I admitted. “I don’t understand that kind of stuff. A spell is the only thing I could come up with. And if anybody looked capable of throwing some mojo
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