by J.A. Kazimer
“Doesn’t ring a bell.” I shrugged. What the fuck was with the geography lesson? If I wanted to learn, I would’ve stayed in Charming School.
“Fine.” Her hands lifted to her round hips and she glared at me. “My stepsister’s Cinderella. Striking midnight now?”
Holy crap. I leapt from my seat on the table and paced around the room. Not that there was much room to pace. In fact, my whole apartment could fit into one of the three kittens’ missing mittens. “You’re the ugly stepsister!” I said with a frown. Yet this chick wasn’t ugly, not by a long shot.
“I’m one of them.” She shrugged as if the nickname didn’t bother her, but the look of hurt in her eyes spoke more than words could. The villainous, still hungry part of me took satisfaction in her pain. It served her and her princessstuck-in-an-ivory-tower kind right.
“I’m sorry about,” I winced, “your sister’s accident.” Smashed under a bus was a bad way to go. I should know. I’d run over quite a few jesters and even a prince or two in my time.
“Thanks,” she said. “But it wasn’t an accident.”
I scratched my chin, not liking where this was going. “I have an alibi. I was at my mother’s in Queens of Hearts.”
Asia arched a flame-colored eyebrow. “Why would you need an alibi?”
“No reason.” I tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. “You were saying?”
“My sister’s death wasn’t an accident.” Her eyes met mine. “She was murdered. And I need your help to prove it.”
Damn. There was that word again. I started to say fuck no, but instead, the following string of words flew from my stupid lips: “Of course. Whatever you need.”
God, I hated myself. In an act of revenge, I chomped down on my treacherous tongue until it bled. Served it right.
“Are you eating your tongue?” For a brief second Asia appeared terrified at the prospect. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were that hungry.” She shoved her hand into the pocket of her leather pants and removed a lint-covered breath mint. “Here. Take this.”
Before I could stop her, she shoved the mint into my mouth. I wanted to yell “Are you fucking nuts,” but it came out more like, “Thanks.”
Damn it.
She smiled. “So you’ll help me track down her killer?”
“Why the heck not?” I stared into her green eyes, losing myself in their beauty. If a woman’s eyes were a window to their soul, I was in big trouble. Because the only image inside Anastasia Bella Maledetto’s eyes was my own evil reflection.
“I’ll come back in the morning,” she said, “and we can begin our investigation.”
I nodded, watching her heart-shaped butt walk out my door and disappear down the hallway. Ugly stepsister, my ass. Hell, even the gayest of the rats surveyed her strut down the corridor.
“I’d do her,” said Tate, a pink felt hat-wearing rat with a lisp and a pronounced swish. The other, straighter rats rolled their beady eyes. To which Tate replied: “What?”
I closed the door before things got ugly and dropped into my favorite, now-empty chair. A cloud of dust exploded from the fabric and the sweet scent of pumpkin pie floated around me. I picked up the remnants of my dinner, surprised to see Asia had left a fortune cookie. I smiled at the plastic-wrapped goodie, picturing Asia’s emerald eyes.
Peeling the cookie open, I licked my lips in anticipation of its sugary goodness and informative, if not, valuable summation of my future. The cookie read:
THE DELIVERY KID LICKED YOUR EGG ROLL.
HAVE A NICE DAY!
Damn! Foiled again by a teen with more metal in his head than Snow White had sugar midgets.
Hi Ho, Hi Ho ...
Off to scrub delivery kid spit out of my mouth I go.