“Darling. I brought you some snacks. Are we singing?” Wendy pushed a plate filled with disgusting-looking mini meats and corn chips beneath Roy’s nose, knowing full well he wouldn’t want them. She was a bit peeved with Roy. He’d made all these friends and seemed to enjoy flirting with the school nurse. Meanwhile, she’d been working at Fleurt all year—or at least pretending to—in a boring office all by herself. Enjoy! was better. She was actually starting to enjoy it. But she still hadn’t told Roy. It just seemed so demeaning. Was she really that much of a snob?

“We could do our song,” Roy said.

Roy and Wendy’s song was “Candle in the Wind” by Elton John. They were both completely tone-deaf. Shy shouted at them whenever they tried to sing.

Roy glanced at Peaches. “Do you mind?”

Peaches shrugged her shoulders. She did seem a little disappointed.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” A tall, androgynous person with glowing tan skin, a shaved head, and the most perfectly symmetrical eyebrows Roy had ever seen was hovering near Wendy, holding a glass of clear stuff. “I’ve been wanting to meet your husband since the day I picked up Purple in the bookstore a million years ago.”

“It’s all right if you didn’t finish it.” Roy held out his hand. Male or female? Not that it mattered. He was a modern person. “It’s my longest book. No one ever finishes.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Wendy cut in. “This is Manfred.”

Roy shook Manfred’s hand. Masculine or feminine didn’t matter. Manfred was Manfred. “You’re from the magazine?” he guessed.

“Fleurt,” Manfred said. “We were comrades in armed, ergonomic swivel chairs.”

“Manfred keeps me on deadline,” Wendy said breezily, shooting Manfred a look.

Manfred blew her a kiss, as if to say, “It’s not my business what you choose to tell or not tell your husband, I love you anyway,” and Wendy blew them a grateful kiss back.

Roy smiled grimly at the disgusting plate of greasy game-night snacks. All he really wanted was to go home to his laptop. “You wouldn’t happen to know the words to ‘Love Shack,’ would you?”

But a new song had already begun, and it was Elizabeth who took the mic. It wasn’t “Love Shack,” either. She was moaning, and the music was slow.

“Oooooh,” Elizabeth crooned. “Love to love you, baby.” She licked her downturned lips and waggled her eyebrows suggestively across the room at Tupper, who had tucked himself back in behind the bar.

Tupper’s face turned pink and then gray.

“Oh!” Elizabeth shrieked.

Tupper ducked down, pretending to search for something beneath the bar.