Friday Night Bites by Erin Johnson

Author:Erin Johnson [Johnson, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-14T22:00:00+00:00

14

Under the Catwalk

I blinked as the fabric swung closed behind me. My eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. Lanterns hung from the scaffolding, casting dim pools of light here and there, while crew workers, all dressed in black, moved between metal poles and rigging.

The space was tall enough that I could stand upright, but I spotted Chad, slightly stooped, up ahead. I climbed over a coil of glowing blue cord, then ducked under a low-hanging pipe.

“Hey—Chad.”

He looked up from disassembling some bits of metal scaffolding and groaned. “You again. What?”

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “C’mon Chad. I know there’s more to the story.”

He sniffed. “The cop send you in here?” He narrowed his buggy eyes at me. “Wait a sec—are you a cop?” He looked me up and down, and I resisted the urge to slap him when his gaze lingered in certain places. “You don’t look like a cop.”

“Dur, Chad.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m a consultant for the police.”

He scoffed. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? Want to consult for me?”

I gritted my teeth. Man, this guy was as sleazy as they came. I bit back a dozen retorts, then decided I might actually get some answers if I sank to speaking on his level.

I sneered. “Shell, no. But you wouldn’t believe what I got that cop to fall for.”

He looked up from his task, a brow lifted.

I inched closer and lowered my voice conspiratorially. “The dude thinks I’m a pet psychic—that I read animals’ minds.”

Chad’s mouth slid into a half-grin.

“Idiotic, right? But I’m on the police payroll and everything.” I scoffed. “I just roll in, pretend I’m getting some general reading from an animal, then boom—they drop a bag of merkles in my palm.” I shrugged. “Listen, I’m not here to net you—I’m from the Darkmoon District, a working class gal, just like you. We have to stick together against the man! I just have to make it seem like I’m earning my pay by ‘interviewing’ you.”

What was I even saying? I mentally rolled my eyes at myself.

Chad scoffed and nodded, seeming to have a new appreciation for me. Dear sea goddess, was my lame ploy actually working?

“I bet that cop of yours is a real hard-ass.”

I nodded. “The hardest.”

He rolled his eyes and slid closer. “Bel Hahn, that fancy schmancy designer—ha! She thought she was so far above me. Always shouting at us and constantly changing her plans—we’d get everything rigged up and then she’d decide, oh gee, all of a sudden, now we need the runway six inches higher, and we’d have to start all over again.”

I huffed and pretended to play along. “They all think they’re better than us.”

“Right?” Chad gritted his teeth. “And then on top of it, she wanders around, micromanaging—like, thanks, witch, but don’t tell me how to do my job.” He shook his head, his lips curled back. “And on top of it, she shouted at me in front of the whole crew yesterday!”

I lifted my brows.

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