I’ve never actually been introduced to Lyall. He mostly sleeps during the day and spends his nights running the tavern. I’ve spotted him carrying a crate of lemons from Rose’s shop to the Relic, or just leaving the Psychedelicatessen as I cross the grass on my way in.

Seeing him up close catches me off guard. He has a mustache that starts blond in the middle, just under his nose, and then gets gradually darker going along either side into a curl with a point at the end. The spike of black hair under his bottom lip is framed by a sharp goatee that makes the bottom of his face look like an old-timey weapon. When he blinks I can see a thick layer of black glitter covering his eyelids. Big, tree-branch smile lines next to his eyes spread out until the thin tips of all the lines reach his temples. He wears a big gold hoop in his right ear. His slick black hair is pulled into a skinny ponytail on the top of his head. His T-shirt says “Pirates Do It Better.”

Oh God, I have to say something to him. Rose, where are you? “Hi. You’re Lyall. Sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Right. Um, I’m, um. I’m Violet’s granddaughter.”

“No!”

“Yeah. You knew that. Sorry.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Now, my little scamp, before you say another word I just want to make one thing absolutely clear. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you or aren’t you?”

Oh, for Christ’s sake, where the fuck is Rose?

Lyall angles his body back and grips the bar with his fingertips. His mouth hangs open in bitchy mock-shock. “Oh. My. God. You are. Well, listen here, Gidget. I’m not buying any fucking Girl Scout cookies, not one box, if you’re out of Samoas. You’re not going to offload all your wretched, boring, fattening shortbread things on me. And if I may offer some advice, you’d get a hell of a lot more business peddling your factory-baked cellulite-inducers if you wore your uniform.”

What the fuck’s a gidget?

“Fine! One box of Thin Mints. Hear me? One. Payment on delivery. Never pay for anything in advance. A little piece of advice from me to you, free of charge.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“Fill in your little order form or whatever. I have customers. ’Scuse me.”

Lyall flicks his ponytail at me as he goes to the end of the bar. Great. Nick and Jack are here. When Nick spots me he’s so surprised that it takes him a sec to put on his casual hate face. Lyall brings them two beers and the three of them stand there talking. I keep finding myself looking over to see if Nick is trying to stare me out of the room. He does look up once in a while. I try to look away but he catches me every time.