I’d go back to being Perry. Kinda hopeless, usually useless, always a disappointment, and I bet once I finally get home again, Sir Squeakerton would have had enough of my shit and packed up and moved on too.

I bang the phone I bought earlier against the rooftop before I remember that I don’t need to do that anymore. It’s a trip to have a phone that turns right on by pushing a button and has access to the internet just, like, whenever I want it?

I’m still not sure if I want to keep the phone, but the neon green rubber frog case with wacky eyes is a strong selling point.

Can’t get one of those for a decades-old flip phone.

I tap the social media app I installed earlier, and the account for Kandi Krisley pops up. Not that Kandi is an actual person. I created the account, added a hot photo from Google, and then added a whole list of people I went to school with before posting a bunch of nature and “your life, so live it” posts. The horoscope ones were a nod to Lars.

Not that he should have any right to my brilliant plan, but I really did like him too. My friends fur-ever shirt is feeling a whole lot less special today, that’s for sure.

Once I got Kandi’s account looking appealing, I tagged her at Rev last night, then sent Yanni a request. He accepted almost immediately, and I hit him with the killer punch: “hi.”

He’s been messaging Kandi all day, who thinks he’s so funny, and he has the best club, and “noooo of COURSE premature balding is the new silver fox look. I LOVE it.”

Yanni has eaten up every message, and I really worry that this is the criminal mastermind after St. Clare and his brother, because Yanni? He has no self-awareness.

Again, that’s coming from me.

Another message finally comes through in response to my one from 9:55 saying that skipping the line out front feels braggy and rude to Kandi.

got a back entrance. meet me there and I’ll let you in

Bingo.

I’m smiling as I type out a reply to “please hurry it’s dark and scary,” then make my way across from the roof of the CVS to the overhang above his back exit. If it’s anyone other than Yanni who steps outside, I’ll let myself in while they look for Kandi, but if it’s Yanni—and I’m hoping it will be—I’ve got Judy ready in hand.

Maybe this guy likes his girls scared because it takes way too long for the heavy metal back door to ease open.

“Kandi?” a deep voice hisses. “You there?”

The man below steps out a bit further, and I finally catch an up-close glimpse of Yanni.

So this is the man who wants to hurt my St. Clare?