Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,40

seriously.

“Enough people have been hurt over this whole thing, and we’re not adding outsiders to that tally,” Ominotago said resolutely. “If Tinkerbelle can’t get you home safely, I will. If I’m otherwise occupied, any one of the boys will handle it. I understand if you’re worried about going somewhere with a boy you just met, but I promise you, you’re safe with them. Fyodor is here on a visa and can only stay if he continues his education. Minsu is literally a Boy Scout. Charles would die before touching you any way you did not want him to. Waatese is a boxer in addition to playing football, and he’s family. You’re safest with him. My friends and I have parents who care where we are at night, and we are supposed to be home by two a.m.”

Ominotago dropped her hands from Wendy’s shoulders. “That’s four hours from now,” she said simply. “You should be home before then.”

“What about Fyodor? You were yelling at him on the train,” Wendy said. She wasn’t scared of him in particular; it just seemed strange Ominotago would warn Fyodor away from Curly so aggressively if she thought he was so safe for Wendy to be around.

Ominotago scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Despite his dramatics, Fyodor is asexual—he won’t touch you. But for Curly? He can do better. Fyodor flirts with everyone, and Curly hasn’t ever dated anyone before. He’s vulnerable. He doesn’t need a playboy boyfriend … or girlfriend. He needs stability.”

Tinkerbelle brushed her shoulder against Wendy’s playfully and smiled more openly than Wendy had seen her that night. “Fyodor would be good for you, though. Since you’re the type of girl who likes bad boys who feel dangerous,” Tinkerbelle teased. “Fyodor’s got that appeal, but on the inside he’s actually a good person. Fyodor would never kidnap anyone.”

Ominotago nodded. “All bark and no bite. Good kisser, but nothing else.” She opened her arms to give Wendy a brusque side hug. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

Wendy closed her eyes and took another deep breath. She had made it this far; she could make it to the end of the night. She rolled her shoulders, bent down, and tightened her shoelaces. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time and battery: 11:03 p.m., 8 percent battery, and a single text from Eleanor that said: Called the police and gave them your deets. FaceTime me when you’re alone and DON’T GET MURDERED BEFORE THEN.

Will do. Ty she sent back while Tinkerbelle read over her shoulder and nodded in approval.

“I’m all right. I’m ready,” Wendy said.

Tinkerbelle took her hand and led her into the Mermaid’s Lagoon.

CHAPTER 9

Now the Mermaid’s Lagoon had large front windows and was lit up as bright as Christmas so everyone could see inside from the street. There was a garish, giant sculpture of a woman with a tray of beer and hamburgers smack in front of the main entrance. The sign on the outside said CABARET AND DRAG SHOWS in blinding lights.

Wendy felt pretty confident she was prepared for what she was about to walk into. In fact, she was already thinking about bringing Eleanor to this place. Wendy could hear pulsing showtune music from outside the restaurant. Plus, even though she was still full of Slightly’s soup and Curly’s amazing bread, she wouldn’t mind snacking on some bar food. Having a full-scale panic attack and running at top speed was a metabolism booster.

But when Ominotago pulled open the side door and guided Tinkerbelle and Wendy inside, Wendy found herself once again lost at sea. First, the side door led directly into a dressing room. It was roughly the size of Peter’s living room, which is to say it wasn’t nearly large enough. The walls were fully covered with posters and magazine clippings of stage shows and divas: Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Chicago, Kinky Boots, Aretha Franklin, the Supremes, Hairspray, My Fair Lady, and what appeared to be an actual shrine to Dolly Parton complete with candles underneath and flowers glued around the poster. The farthest wall had a giant mirror encrusted with light bulbs, and the table beneath it extended from one end of the room to the other. The corner nearest to the girls was a huge wardrobe of clothes racks and shelves crammed with wigs, jewelry, gloves, scarves, gowns, and boots of incredible colors and heights. A large shared vanity was crowded with makeup, tubs of cold cream, wig glue, rollers, curling irons,