I can gripe at him about that later though. I can’t leave these guys from MediaCorp waiting any longer than I already have, and I’m going to need a good-sounding business excuse for the delay. I don’t think stressing about saying something stupid is going to cut it.

“If I say something stupid⁠—”

Lars finishes my thought. “I set a fire and evacuate the place. Got it.”

He might be a pain in the fucking ass, but he’s as much of a brother to me as Colin is.

“Keep trying to call him,” I tell Lars. “Late is better than never.”

CHAPTER THREE

PERRY

I’m going to be the best damn sidekick that there ever was. I’ve got my leather gloves. My hoodie. A mask that covers the lower half of my face and has a cool leering skeleton mouth on it. There were a ton of them online, and Elle is the most amazing future sis-in-law ever because she overnighted it to me without the invasive questions Margot would have asked.

I have a place and a time to meet Arlie, and it’s been on my mind all day. I refuse to be late. I even set about five alarms in the lead-up to leaving so that I wouldn’t get distracted and forget, and since I have some time to spare, I’m going to show up with a little something for her as my thanks for doing this for me.

Unfortunately, my bank balance limits what that something could be, so I settle for two coffees. We’re in for a long night, so this will keep us going.

Only when I get to the front to order and the cashier asks for my name, I hesitate. If we’re doing what I think we’re doing tonight, I can’t leave any evidence for the police. That starts now. I need to start thinking like a calculating, cunning creature of the night.

And those calculated, cunning creatures probably don’t give their real names for coffee orders.

“Jerry,” I blurt, proud of myself for catching this. “And Harley.”

The cashier rings me up, I stand to wait, and when they call my order, I remember to answer to the wrong name. I’m already killing this thing. Pun intended.

The street outside looks cut in half, with the bright, busy road and shopfronts, and the still black canvas above it all. I love the nighttime. It makes the traffic and the people seem more magical, and when I smile at the people I pass, most of them even smile back.

During the day, people are too busy rushing around, earbuds in, talking obnoxiously loudly.

I meet Arlie a few streets over, in a shady alleyway that we probably shouldn’t be lingering in—though, I guess we’re the reason people shouldn’t hang out in these places. Boy, that is going to take some adjustment.