A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,65
expiration date?” When she turned a confused expression on him, he added, “When you’re going to die.”
“Cruz!” Auri said.
Sybil had known her whole life she was going to die on her fifteenth birthday. She’d had a premonition as a kid and had dreamed about it since. Thankfully, Sunshine Vicram had something to say about that and Sybil survived a terror no kid should ever have to endure.
Cruz shrugged, oblivious, which was not like him. “It’s just that Auri’s mom stopped your premonition from happening, so I wondered if you knew your new expiration date.”
“Oh,” Sybil said, brightening. “I do, actually.”
“For real?” Auri asked.
“Yep.” She slid her glasses up her freckled nose. “As of this moment, I’m going to live until I’m eighty-three and die of congestive heart failure.”
“Oh.” Auri cringed inwardly. “That’s good …I guess.”
“Yeah. I’m shooting for ninety-three. I’ve decided to get more exercise and eat healthy.” They all looked down at the pastry in her hand. “Right after this delicious chocolate croissant.”
The bell dinged and the owners of the coffee shop came in through the front carrying boxes. Auri decided to take advantage of the opportunity given her.
“Here.” She handed Cruz a butter knife. “Hold this to my throat and go with it.”
“Okay, but if they stab me, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal.”
Auri and her mom had lived in a loft above Richard and Ricky’s garage in Santa Fe for years. They were like family and Auri had been the flower girl at their wedding. But in all the years they’d lived there, the couple held one captivating secret over their tenants’ heads: the eyeliner trick.
Ricky, a gorgeous Asian, wore the most perfect eyeliner Auri had ever seen. He applied it with surgical precision and Sun and Auri wanted to know how.
Now was her chance to find out.
She waited until they got closer, positioned herself to be at Cruz’s mercy, then said, “Help me! He wants the eyeliner trick or he’ll kill me.”
Ricky set his box on a nearby table and looked at them, less than impressed. Richard, with his glorious mop of spiked, black hair, followed suit, only his expression held more humor than disinterest.
Sensing her inevitable defeat, she added, “And he’ll get blood all over your porous Italian tile.” Which, really, who put a porous tile in a coffee shop?
Ricky gasped. “Fine. Your chai latte is on the house.”
She rolled her eyes. “My chai latte is always on the house. He knows that. You’re not fooling him.” She pointed at the kid holding a butter knife against her throat, rather limply much to her chagrin. “He’s a criminal mastermind.”
Ricky gave Cruz a dubious examination.
Richard winked playfully at him. “The redhead put you up to this?”
He lifted a shoulder.
Ricky leaned closer to her and whispered, “Better luck next time, squirt.”
She deflated. So close.
She disentangled herself from her captor and stood to give them each a hug. “You just missed Mom.”
“We have some fresh-baked pastries we’ll take over in a bit. Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“We’re on a scavenger hunt!” Sybil shouted. Really loudly. She didn’t handle panic well.
“Yeah,” Auri said, going in for the save, “for history. We’re finding different historical sites in town and taking pics of them.”
“Nice,” Ricky said. “You should take a picture of Richard. He’s a historical site.”
Richard glared at him. “I’m not that much older than you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Grandpa.”
Auri giggled, then sat down and scowled at Cruz. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” he said, a telltale grin lifting one corner of his mouth.
“Your performance was underwhelming.”
“Underwhelming?”
“Yes. Less than whelming, if you will. I was not whelmed. You’re going to have to step it up if you want to fool those two.”
He smiled behind his cup. “I’ll remember that.”
“All right, good.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, then nailed Cruz with her best look of determination. “I’m ready to go all the way.”
Cruz choked on his coffee about the same time Auri realized her double-entendre faux pas.
“No, inside.” She patted Cruz’s back. “Inside Mrs. Fairborn’s house. Did you think I meant—?” When he gave her a hapless shrug, she asked, “Have you even met my mother? She knows about the devil’s doorbell, Cruz.”
“The devil’s what?” he asked between coughs.
“She will know if it’s been rung. We need a plan.”
“Why would we ring her doorbell if we’re breaking in?”
“No. The devil’s—Never mind.”
Sybil sat glued to the conversation, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two from behind her massive mug.