“I don’t know. I don’t know her like you do.”
I scratched my head as I considered how to respond. “I don’t know what she has planned, but it’s bound to be all kinds of messed up. I know your initial reaction is to stay here, but I think if we do that we’ll simply be delaying the inevitable. Eventually she’ll force us into the world she created if only because she wants us to see all the work she put into it.”
Landon’s expression was unreadable. “So you think we should play the game.”
“I don’t think she’ll let us do anything else.”
Landon ran his tongue over his teeth. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
His change of heart was surprising. “Really?”
“We might as well.” Landon flashed a sheepish grin as he hopped to his feet. “I’ve always fancied myself a leading man. I thought it would be in an action movie and not on a soap opera, but what could possibly happen that’s so bad?”
WE SHOWERED AND DRESSED because it seemed to be the thing to do. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the house I found myself in was so obscenely large it reminded me of a fairy tale castle rather than a soap opera mansion.
“Look at this place.” Landon shook his head as he stared at the ornate ceiling. It boasted a painted mural featuring men in loincloths dancing around a fire. “Who would live in a house like this?”
“Something tells me that Aunt Tillie has gone to a lot of effort to make this world as ridiculous as possible. If we thought the future she plotted out for us was unbelievable, just wait. Soaps are already ridiculous. She’s going to take the basics and run with them … and it’s going to be all kinds of ugly.”
“Bay!”
I jerked at the sound of my name, swiveling to find Thistle, Clove, Marcus and Sam stalking toward us. They were overdressed – just like us – and they didn’t look happy.
“Speaking of ugly.” Landon made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Look at Clove’s shirt. It looks as if half of it was designed by one person and the other half by someone else.”
“She has multiple personalities in this world,” I reminded him. “Aunt Tillie probably wants to remind us of it.”
“Oh, well, I can’t wait to meet her other personalities,” Landon muttered. “I’m sure they’ll be all sorts of crazy.”
“I’m sure you’re exactly right.”
Thistle’s face was red with fury – and her hair was a dull dirty blond, bordering on boring brown, that I hadn’t seen since she was fourteen. “Do you know what that evil witch has done?”
I nodded. “I saw the recap for All My Witches when we were still in our room. Landon was considering hiding in there, but we figured it was better to face the music rather than try to wait it out.”
“That’s what we decided, too,” Clove said. “We thought it might take forever to get out of here if we did nothing. Of course, when I suggested it, Sam thought it was one of my other personalities talking. He’s a lawyer and a brain surgeon, so he decided he should be in charge this time.”
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing at Sam’s hangdog expression. It was fairly obvious that he and Clove had gone at each other about their backstories.
“Hey, we might need a brain surgeon before the day is out,” Landon said. “I have an incredible urge to beat my head against the wall rather than sit back and figure out what this world has to offer. I figure it might be less painful.”
“Oh, now, don’t be a baby,” Thistle chided. “You’re an undercover police officer in love with your mark. Your story isn’t terrible.”
“Speaking of marks … .” Marcus tilted his chin toward the end of the hallway where a tall man boasting deep dimples that I remembered from the clip reel stared in our direction.
“Who is that?” Clove asked. “He looks familiar.”
“Maybe one of your other personalities is involved with him,” Sam suggested.
“No, he’s the one married to Bay’s character.” Landon’s voice was positively dripping with disdain. “Look at that guy. He’s like a stereotypical mobster. He’s got slicked-back hair and everything.”
“He’s a lot hotter than most mobsters I’ve seen in movies and television,” Clove argued. “In fact … .” She didn’t get a chance to finish because the man, Michael Ferrigno, was on us and apparently interested in claiming the woman he believed to be his wife.
“There you are!” Michael grabbed both sides of my face and planted a long, hot and lingering kiss on my mouth. If I wasn’t so surprised by the move I might’ve taken a moment to enjoy it – he was quite talented in that department and didn’t suffer from wandering tongue syndrome – even though I was dedicated to Landon beyond all else.
“Hey!” Landon shoved his hand between Michael and me and tugged me backward. “Watch your hands, man!”
For his part, Michael seemed amused more than anything else. “She’s my wife, Jericho, which you very well know. That means she’s my property. My hands belong on my property.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that again if you don’t want three feet slamming into your groin,” Landon said pointedly. “As for the rest … just don’t do it. I don’t think your wife feels all that well, and she’s probably not in the mood for your vigorous brand of kissing. Isn’t that right, Bay?”
“Who is Bay?” Michael asked, confused.
“Echo,” Thistle automatically corrected. “He meant Echo. He gets confused easily. I think it’s from all the blows he’s taken to the head. He’s one of your henchmen, right?”
Landon made an exaggerated face. “I don’t think he uses the word ‘henchman.’”
Michael shook his head. “No, I do. That’s what it said on your application right before your interview.”
“Really?” Landon cocked a dubious eyebrow. “I filled out an application to serve as one of your … henchmen?”
“How else would you get the job?” Michael turned his quizzical expression to me. “How are you, my darling? You look quite fetching today, although I can’t say I wasn’t a bit surprised when I woke up alone. Where did you spend your night?”
“Oh, well … .”
“She was with me,” Clove answered automatically. “We were hanging out.”
“At the strip club?” Michael made a face. “I’ve warned you about hanging out at the strip club, darling. You’ll get a bad reputation.”
“Right, because being married to a mobster is so good for her reputation,” Landon muttered.
Michael ignored the sarcasm. “I have a job for you, Jericho.”
“He’s talking to you,” Sam helpfully offered Landon.
Landon shot him a withering look. “I got it. What’s the job?”
“I need you to get the thing.”
Landon waited for him to expand on his instructions, but Michael seemed to think that was enough for Landon to figure out what he should be doing.
“The thing?”
“Yes, you know about the thing. We’ve talked about it at length.”
I yelped when I felt someone pinch my rear end, jerking to the side and crashing into Landon. “What the … ?”
“Oh, don’t act cagey, my little crème brulèe,” Michael teased. “I know you really like it when I … touch you there.”
Landon’s eyebrows practically flew off his forehead. “Where did you touch her?” He turned to me, his expression murderous. “Where did he touch you?”
“Why do you even care?” Michael challenged, his demeanor breezy. “She’s my wife.”
“No, she’s not,” Landon snarled.
“Dude, you’re supposed to be playing the game,” Marcus whispered. “I don’t think you’re doing it right.”
“Shut up,” Landon barked. He grabbed my arm and drew me back so Michael wasn’t close enough to accidentally – or purposely, for that matter – brush against me. “Don’t touch her.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Stop saying that.”
I lifted my hands to stave off a potential fight. “Can we get back to the thing? I think Jericho needs a reminder of what the thing is.”
Michael rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder he didn’t tip to the side. “What do you think the thing is?”