Summoning the Night
Page 5

“Hold on.” I shucked my coat, shaking out the raindrops, and flipped three switches that turned on the ambient lights: multicolored glass Japanese fishing floats hanging above the bar, Easter Island lamps at the booths, and thousands of stringed white lights.
“Whoa!”
I’ll admit, even with my shot nerves, it made me a little proud to show off Tambuku to someone who appreciated its kitschy charm. His father, who is uncomfortable in small, crowded spaces, had only ducked inside a couple of times after closing to pick me up, and he’d pronounced it “nice”—Lon’s all-encompassing adjective for anything that he doesn’t hate.
Jupe, however, proceeded to bounce around the bar with enthusiasm, noting details. “Those are the binding seals around the tables that you told me about?” he said, eying the booths and tables with curiosity. Beneath each one, magical snares were hand-painted onto the floor. A local artist altered the designs to fit in with the Polynesian feel of the place without corrupting the authenticity of the symbols. “You really use them to keep drunk-ass Earthbounds in line?”
“Yep.”
“Every night?”
“Depends on the night.”
“Oh, man,” he pined, “would I love to see you do that.”
“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”
“You designed this place all by yourself?” Jupe dropped three battered sacks on top of the bar and stared up at the wooden tiki dolls dangling from the ceiling.
“No, she didn’t.” Kar Yee padded out from the office, the door slamming shut behind her. “If Cady had her way, we would have installed too many booths. At least one of us has good business sense.”
“Oh, so you are here,” I complained. “Didn’t you hear me banging on the front door? It’s pouring outside.”
The lithe Hong Kong ex-pat shrugged, her sleek black bob rustling as she passed under a ceiling fan. She was wearing a thin, white cowl-neck sweater that fell mid-thigh and clung to her petite figure, and below it, a pair of black leggings. “I was listening to music. Why are you so grumpy?”
“We almost got mugged in the Metropark.”
“Almost?”
“The mugger ran away.” I darted a glance at Jupe. He wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring at Kar Yee.
“No one was hurt?” she asked, studying the scrape on my cheek.
I shook my head.
“We need more cops in this area,” she snapped. Her tone was high-pitched and brusque, like I was the reason for the lack of police presence.
“We’re fine,” I said.
Her face softened. “I called that big man to come guard the door next week during Halloween business.”
“Who? Charlie?”
She ignored me, stopping a couple of feet in front of Jupe to dart a critical eye up and down his lanky form. “So . . . you are the kid?”
Jupe froze, a deer in headlights, while taking off his rain-drenched coat. Kar Yee had that effect on people. I’m not sure if it’s her gratingly honest demeanor or the bored-but-dangerous look in her eyes, but most of our regulars steer clear of her.
“This is Jupiter Butler,” I said. “He goes by Jupe.”
“Tall,” she observed.
Jupe remembered how to move and cleared his throat. “I’ve grown three inches this past year.” He lifted both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to be impressed by this tidbit.
“Hmm . . .” Kar Yee took a step closer and measured him with her outstretched hand. “Just how tall are you? It’s hard to tell under all this hair.”
“Five-nine and three-quarters,” he said very seriously. “My dad says I’ll be way taller than him by the time I go to high school. That’s next year, by the way.” Without looking, he reached behind him to set his coat on a bamboo barstool and missed. Neither of them seemed to notice when it hit the floor. I grumbled as I picked it up, then hauled a bag of lemons behind the bar.
Jupe eased onto a stool with the smarmy pizzazz of a Wayne Newton impersonator. He braced his arm against the edge of the bartop as the two Earthbounds examined each other’s halos, hers more an aqua-blue compared to his pale green. “I’ve talked to you on the phone a couple of times when I’ve called here for Cady,” Jupe pointed out. “You were kinda mean, but I didn’t mind. I don’t like weak women. I like warriors.”
Kar Yee leaned against the bar, hand on hip. “Is that so?”
“Yep. My dad says that if you want to be a warrior, you should be able to take care of business and not be afraid to speak the truth.”
“Oh, really? Is that why he’s hot and bothered for Arcadia here?” Kar Yee tossed an accusatory glance my way. She was well aware that honesty wasn’t one of my strong suits.
“Probably,” Jupe confirmed. “My dad says he likes her so much that if she kicked him in the balls, he’d just thank her.”
I groaned at Jupe and struggled with the plastic netting on one of the lemon bags. Kar Yee laughed for the first time in . . . weeks, actually. Loud and genuine.
“Sounds like your dad is pussy-whipped,” Kar Yee said. “Do you know what that means?”
If he didn’t have firsthand experience with the term, he damn well knew what it meant, all right. His nostrils widened as a lurid smirk transformed his face. And just like that, my world crumbled. The kid I’d played video games with after school yesterday was suddenly a horny teenager. And he was crushing on my best friend.