She had let her hair down since the previous day. Literally. Lush and black, it cascaded to her shoulders. She wore stylish sunglasses that slid down her nose as her skin sweated in the heat. No more Clark Kent frames. She wore shorts and heels, and her legs were crossed. Her black tank top sported the letters DC in a block white font across her chest. The tank top dipped low, offering an ample view of cocoa-skinned cleavage.

Peach wandered across the parking lot. When she passed Annalie as she went inside the shop, the thirty-something woman glanced idly at her but made no sign of recognition. Peach wore a mousy-brown wig today, taken from the head of Bon Bon Mannequin, and the hair was bushy around her face. She wore big red sunglasses, jeans, and an untucked striped button-down blouse.

Inside, she ordered mocha-chip ice cream, took the cup outside, and sat in the chair next to Annalie.

‘I’m sorry, I’m waiting—’ the woman began, but then she stopped and said: ‘Oh. Peach?’

‘Hi.’

‘It took me a second to recognize you.’

‘That’s the plan,’ Peach said.

Annalie stripped off her sunglasses and pointed at herself with an inquiring glance. ‘So, do I pass inspection? You said dress to get noticed.’

‘Looking good.’

‘Thanks.’ Annalie licked her cone. ‘You live near here?’

‘Not too far.’

‘Where’s not too far?’

‘A few miles.’

Annalie’s eyebrows flickered. She didn’t miss the fact that Peach wasn’t offering specifics. ‘Why did you want to meet so far west? We’re heading back into the city, aren’t we?’

Peach shrugged. ‘Sorry, force of habit. I used to meet Justin here. He had a place on the Gulf a couple miles south.’

‘Nice.’

‘Parental money.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t know what that’s like,’ Annalie said with a sigh. ‘Anyway, I came early and walked on the beach.’ She tilted her chin toward the blue sky. ‘Beautiful day, huh? It’s like the calm before the storm. Everyone says Chayla will be bad.’

‘Storms don’t scare me,’ Peach said.

‘No? Me, I worry about waking up in Oz. Sounds like the weather people think Chayla will make landfall around the Fourth of July.’

‘Unless it veers away. They never know.’ Peach checked the time again. ‘We should probably go. The convention takes an afternoon break in a couple hours. People will be outside smoking. We’ll want to be listening.’

‘Listening for what?’

‘Whatever we hear,’ Peach said. ‘It’s amazing what people will say. Do you smoke? You’ll fit in better if you smoke.’

‘Occasionally. What about you?’

‘I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. But I can fake it.’

Annalie grinned: ‘You don’t drink, and you don’t smoke. So what do you do?’

‘What?’

‘You know, that Adam Ant song? “Goody Two-Shoes”?’

‘I don’t know it.’

‘Wow, I’m way too old,’ Annalie sighed.

‘Can you drive?’ Peach asked.