Hard Magic by Gilman Laura Anne

Author:Gilman, Laura Anne [Gilman, Laura Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Luna
Published: 2010-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

In any other town I might have worried about what to wear, where we were going, how dressed up I should be. One of the best things about New York was that the only possible response to all that was “don’t sweat it.” I hopped into the shower and scrubbed, and then, wrapped in one of the true luxuries of this hotel, a huge Turkish towel, contemplated the contents of my regrettably limited wardrobe.

I was heading to the lobby, hair dried, makeup applied, and nerves thrumming, before the half hour was up. When in New York, go black, and you can’t go wrong. Fortunately, most of my wardrobe started and ended with black, so I was already there.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the elevator lobby: blond puff of dandelion hair for once neatly tamed around my head, eyes and lips demurely outlined, black silk sleeveless blouse showing off just a hint of cleavage over black tuxedo pants and, for the final finishing touch, a pair of black leather half boots with a four-inch stiletto heel. I could dance all night in them, but don’t ask me to run.

Goth-grubby served me well a lot of the time, but after thirteen years with J, I could do Expensive Arrogant at the drop of a well-blocked hat, too.

Jack walked into the lobby just as I hit ground. Looked as though I had guessed right—his casual suit of this afternoon had been dressed up with a dark blue silk tie and spiffier shined shoes. We looked like the epitome of Nice Restaurant-Might-Go-to-a-Private-Club-Later Clientele.

“Bonita. You are well named.”

Oh god. As if I hadn’t heard that line twice a week since I hit puberty. I actually preferred the “oeee, baybee, you lookin’ fine” howl I got this morning from one of the stoop-sitting boys uptown. But still; when dressed Up, one acted Up.

“I think we certainly class up this joint, yes,” I agreed in a roundabout way, and accepted the offer of his arm, tucking my hand in the crook of his elbow.

The doorman—I thought his name was Marco—gave me a wink when he hailed us a cab; I got the feeling he wasn’t expecting to see me home again that night. And I’d been such a good girl while I was here, too! Sheesh.

Jack gave an address to the cabbie, who lurched away from the curb fast enough to shove me up against Jack’s side. Neither of us seemed to mind that much.

“Again, I apologize for my behavior this afternoon. I’m normally quite even-tempered, but when it comes to my mother I will admit to being slightly…protective.”

I settled myself against the back of the seat, leaving a few inches between our bodies. “I’m the same way,” I said. “I totally understand.” I’d faced off against a cave dragon for my dad. Too late to be helpful, but I hadn’t known that at the time.

Although, really, dragons get a bad rap.

Traffic wasn’t bad, and we’d barely had time for the usual exchange of first-date pleasantries before the cabbie was turning off Madison Avenue and onto a side street in midtown.

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