Imperative Fate by Paige Johnson Read Free Book Online

Five
    6/9
    Most of the last day of Convention, I spent without my Mossling. In the morning, she wasn’t in my grasp, must’ve slipped like a ghost and packed away her lambs. She wasn’t hidden in the lobby, reading a philosophy book, or by any watering hole. At noon, I didn’t see her surveying any of the produce shops or through the window of any café. A couple hours past and there remained no sign of engaging, innocent Ellie. By 3 o’clock, I began to worry that she’d done something stupid, gotten into some snag. Mama always warned pretty girls attract the deadliest evil.
    Though I quickly trashed that approach, knowing Ellie isn’t dumb and that I shouldn’t think of her so low or vulnerable.
    Right before the sun set and guilt crept into my chest, I saw that unmistakable blonde skirt across the hotel parking lot.
    “Where’ve you been, Ellie Anne?” I scorched, cutting across the pavement like an apprehensive mother. “Haven’t seen you all day!”
    Her head snapped back and she beamed, fishing around her purse for her key. “You know, here, there, everywhere .”
    “Ellie!” I moaned. “I thought you were abducted !” I sensationalized. “By a creeper or aliens! How the heck did you get by me this morning?”
    The girl only shrugged, all cutesy. “Who cares?”
    I gaped like Wile E. Coyote.
    “You’ll freshen up and come back to the room with me tonight, I hope,” she goaded with all her shiny teeth. “My daddy will be there to meet you. We can sell him further on Anthon—”
    “He’s busy,” I replied without any knowledge of such, hands stationed at my hips. This attachment was really getting the worst of me. Like Detective J. Edgar and Clyde Tolson.
    “Fine,” she said nonchalantly, plucking the plastic room card amidst her spare change. She shook her shoulders. “That just means we can talk him up any way we want. Maybe it’s best. Mr. Connors is very . . . informal anyhow. That could make for a bad impression. My father is very finicky with who he associates. No offense, but that’s how it is.”
    At the elevator, I hovered by her tail and pressed the button for her as she balanced bags in her hands.
    “I’ll see you at eight,” she breezed and did something extraordinary. She pecked my cheek like it was nothing—usual—leaving me rubbing my fuzzy, brightened cheek without rebuttal, with a pert flick of fingers as “’Til then” as the doors locked between us.
    ~ *** ~
                  I actually spent an obscene time speculating if that little kiss meant anything. Ellie said she’s not a lesbian, but Ellie didn’t say she isn’t bisexual . . . “I don’t like boys,” I recalled her saying, but then I remembered another thing: What am I thinking? I have a boyfriend (more of a manfriend, but a lover with a penis nonetheless) and she— I stopped, wide-eyed. Ellie doesn’t know that. No one knows that.
    By the time I applied myself to the Mix It, Match It, and Accessorize It game and exuded all my straightness on Anthony, I calmed myself into believing that if Ellie’s kiss meant anything, it woulda been on the lips. I’m safe , I thought. Awkward conversations don’t have to find me! Ellie only expressed what rejuvenation gave her. Fine. Fine by me.
                  And fine it will be I told myself in regards to finally meeting vintage-chic Mr. Moss. Yet buds of worry kept popping up like weeds and bubbling in my stomach. I had to see Ellie before eight.
    “‘ Finicky!’ ” I phrased when I got there. “I’m not good with that. What the hell do I know? What the hell am I going to do? I’m as ‘informal’ as Anny!” I shuddered.
    Ellie Anne smirked and leant on her calf, teasing me trivially. “That’s what you call your daddy? Anny?” she said.
    “Yes, well we can’t all be as verbally gifted as you, Princess Pink,” I taunted her monotone wardrobe, slamming my hand against one of the walls. 
                  Ellie