Girls' Night Out by Jenna Black Read Free Book Online

no less than three buildings with boarded up windows and doors that made me think “condemned.”
    Al didn’t seem to care about the shabby neighborhood. Ignoring me and my indignation, she skipped up the stairs of the nearest townhouse and starting ringing the buzzer, pressing it over and over again without waiting for an answer.
    She was practically vibrating with excitement.
    I stayed on the sidewalk, glaring at her back, wondering if there was any way I could salvage the situation. The cab we’d ridden in was already long gone, and there wasn’t another one in sight. Frankly, I didn’t think this was the kind of neighborhood that would see a lot of cab activity anyway. Not that I had any idea where we were, or how we were going to get back to Avalon from here. I didn’t even know how long I’d been asleep in the back of that cab.
    My heart gave a little wrench as I realized my mom and dad must have heard about my disappearance by now. They’d be frantic with worry—assuming my mom wasn’t passed out drunk. I would owe them both a massive apology when this was all over.
    As Al continued to lean on the door buzzer, I searched my purse for my phone. It wasn’t like my dad or Finn could come into London to get me, but at least I could let them know what was going on. Only my phone didn’t seem to be in my purse. Al must have taken it while I was asleep.
    No one seemed to be coming to the door, but that didn’t discourage Al. She kept ringing the buzzer, over and over, occasionally pounding on the door with the flat of her hand.
    “Let’s go, Al,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over her pounding. “He’s not home. Give me my phone so I can call us a cab.”
    “I’m not leaving,” Al insisted, banging on the door again. “Gary! I know you’re in there. Answer the door!”
    I wondered if she meant it literally when she said she knew he was in there.
    Could her magic tell her that? I tilted my head up, looking for any signs of life in the windows, but the blinds were all shut tight.
    “Al, come on,” I begged. “If he’s not answering, it’s because he’s not home or because he doesn’t want to. Either way, making a fool of yourself on the doorstep isn’t going to help. We have to get back.”
    Al ignored me, kicking the door, because she wasn’t making enough noise already. One of the neighbors slid his second-floor window open and leaned out, giving us a nice view of his yellowed undershirt and his disgustingly hairy chest.
    “Oy!” he shouted. “Shut the fook up!” His accent was so heavy I was
    lucky—or, actually, unlucky—to have understood him at all.
    Instead of being chastened, Al flipped the guy the bird without even looking at him. Things might have gotten ugly—I didn’t think Mr. Yellow Undershirt was the kind of guy to take well to a girl flipping him off—except at that moment, Gary’s door opened. Al gave a happy little cry and flung herself forward.
    Scowling, Mr. Yellow Undershirt slammed his window shut and retreated while I got my first look at Gary, the love of Al’s life. I was not impressed.
    Apparently, he’d been slow to open the door because he’d been in bed, though a quick glance at my watch told me it was almost four in the afternoon. His baby-fine, mouse brown hair was sticking up at odd angles, and he was wearing a ratty brown and white striped bathrobe. Stubble peppered his face and neck, and his eyes were bloodshot and dopey-looking.
    “Althea?” he asked in the low, hoarse voice of a dedicated smoker. “What . . .
    ? How . . . ?” He hugged her back, but he didn’t look particularly happy to see her.
    “I was so afraid my mother had done something to you,” Al said, her face buried against his shoulder. She had to bend her neck at an awkward angle to manage that position, because Gary was shorter than she was.
    Gary patted her back, then finally seemed to notice me. He looked even more puzzled. I wondered if he even knew Faeriewalkers