Under Lock & Skeleton Key by Gigi Pandian

Author:Gigi Pandian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Chapter 29

Lavinia’s late waiter showed up in the form of Liam Ronan. Robbie’s little brother gave them polite nods as he dropped off their teas and breadbasket. Tempest watched, impressed, as he maneuvered the heavy tray up the narrow stairs, filled with not only their drinks and appetizer, but food and drinks for two other tables of customers. When Tempest looked back to Gideon, he was looking at her with that intense yet easygoing look she was getting to know.

“You’re not like I thought you would be,” Gideon said.

“You’re not like I thought anyone would be in this century. And I can’t tell if we just complimented or insulted each other.”

“I wasn’t doing either. Just observing. And I won’t judge you if you pull out your phone to look at something. I can tell you’re itching to do it.”

Tempest shook her head. “Only by habit. There’s nothing on it for me to see anymore.”

“I’ve gotta say, living without social media is pretty awesome.”

“Only if it’s by choice. Not when you’re forced to do so because the media, as well as thousands of random people, including people I thought were my friends, believed I’d risk a horribly dangerous stunt for a little bit of extra glitz. It didn’t take much prodding for people to say I’d only become a success because of my infamous family, or my looks, or because diversity was the ‘hot new trend.’” She lifted her hands and made air quotes at the last phrase. “See? It’s got me so rattled even thinking about it that I’m using air quotes. I hate air quotes.”

She didn’t know which accusation angered her more. She was proud of her talented family of illusionists, who happened to be a mix of cultures. But their fame and background weren’t the reason she’d succeeded. “I know I’m as talented as any of the performers in Vegas. I’m not saying I’m special. I worked harder. I practiced more than anyone to get there. Still, I never fit people’s preconceived notions of a magician.”

“Did you even like Las Vegas?”

“That’s not the point.”

“So you didn’t.”

She didn’t answer. How could she admit out loud that he might be right? After her first successful show, part of her felt like she was done, that she’d said what she wanted to say. She ditched all of the scripts she’d written for a follow-up, abandoning failed stories about the charms of her bracelet hiding gemstones, a giant tree house growing out of the sea, and a competition of magical fiddlers. They all lacked something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Perhaps,” Gideon suggested softly, “Vegas isn’t supposed to be part of your story. Aren’t you even a little happy to be back home?”

“I miss my bed. I had the most comfortable mattress in the world, and now I’m attempting to sleep on poke-y, squeaky springs.”

“That’s all you’ve got? You miss a mattress?”

“It was a metaphor.” Or at least it could have been a metaphor. But that’s not what she’d meant. As her sore hip could attest, she really did miss her old mattress.

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