“Oh my God,” Fox said. “That’s exactly it.”
“It’s hot,” West told me. “You’re totally going home with someone tonight.”
“No,” I managed to wheeze through death-by-hot-chocolate.
“What is a dominatrix-cat?” Indira asked.
“I’ll look it up,” Millie announced.
“No!” Fox and I managed at the same time.
“Aren’t you just a black cat?” Millie asked. “I thought the keys just got stuck to you like that time you got wrapped up in all that tape in your office and you couldn’t get it off and you kept shouting for somebody to come help and Keme laughed and took all those pictures.”
“This is not like that!” I took a deep breath, which was hard since I was still recovering from my near-death experience. “And I would have been fine except Keme kept making it worse—”
“Well, what are you?” Indira asked. “Why don’t you just tell us?”
“Because this costume is clever and original and—and insightful.”
“Insightful?” Fox murmured.
“And I’m not going to demean myself and demean you and demean the whole human race—”
“He gets on that high horse quick,” West said, “doesn’t he?”
“You have no idea,” Fox said.
“—by explaining it,” I finished. “And why are you all so focused on me? This is about Deputy Bobby and Keme.” I fought with myself, lost, and added, “And nobody even asked Fox about their costume.”
“I’m a polymorphed dragon,” Fox said—a tad haughtily, in my opinion.
No one seemed to know what to say to that.
Indira recovered first. “West, I’ve got thermoses here with more hot chocolate and coffee, depending on what the boys want. I brought blankets. And I’ve got dry clothes. Is there anything else they need for when they get out of the water?”
Shaking his head, West said, “That’s perfect. What they really need is to go home, get in a hot shower, and eat something, but you need a crowbar to get Bobby away from his board, even at the end of the day.”
“Babe,” Deputy Bobby called from the barrier to the spectator zone. He had his wetsuit rolled down to his waist, and God help me, I looked. The world froze. Angels sang. Trumpets, uh, blew—it sounded better in my head. He made an impatient gesture, and for a disoriented heartbeat, I started to rise.
“Let me guess,” West said as he got to his feet. “Zipper’s stuck.”
“Keme tried, but he can’t get it.”
West slipped under the barrier and moved behind Deputy Bobby to inspect the wetsuit’s zipper. Meanwhile, Fox asked in a breathy whisper, “Good God, how much time does Deputy Delectable spend in the gym?”
“At least an hour every day,” I said automatically—because ninety-nine percent of my brain was trying to commit every inch of Deputy Bobby to memory and, at the same time, pretend like I wasn’t looking. “Usually before work, but some days he has to go after.”
“Is that so?” Fox asked, and they turned a curious look on me.
The note in their voice made me flush, and I probably would have stammered something that made everything worse, but fortunately, Keme came to my rescue. He was jogging toward us, his dark hair up in a bun, and his face was alight with excitement.
“Keme!” Millie shouted and waved.
That poor, poor boy.
The word poleaxed comes to mind. I saw the instant he caught sight of Millie. And then it seemed like he couldn’t see anything else. His eyes were locked on her (Millie was still waving, obviously), and Keme began to veer off course.
“Uh, Keme,” I tried.
“Keme!” Indira shouted.
Fox stood and bellowed, “Hey!”
None of it helped, though. He couldn’t hear us. And so he jogged straight into a rack of surfboards.
Keme went down.
The surfboards went down.
Lots of people started yelling.
“Oh my God,” Millie said. “Keme, I’m coming!”
“You know what?” Fox said. “He might be embarrassed. Let him get himself together first.”
Millie didn’t look happy about that, but she stayed. Keme got himself upright, seemed to shake off the daze—although I noticed that he was careful not to look in our direction again, which was probably a mixture of caution and embarrassment. He got the rack upright and started returning the surfboards to their places. Other surfers joined him, but the initial shouting had died down, and it looked like everyone was in good enough spirits that the accident turned into something to laugh about, rather than cause for a genuine argument.
“There you go,” West said. “All set.”
