Secrets and Charms(5)

They went back to watching the movie, but before it was over, Jem got a call from Nick and rushed off.

Olly went to bed early, saving his energies for the next day. Friday was his day off, and he’d promised Sandy to be at her place early. The unfamiliar feel of the chain around his neck brought back memories of Mme. Layla and the alarm in her eyes when the bird crapped on him. He wrapped his fingers around the fang, wondering what trouble a lowly grocery clerk like him could possibly get into.

The next morning, Olly parked his car behind a silver SUV across from Sandy’s house in Silver Lake. The car in front of him sported a AAA sticker on its bumper next to a dent, but what got his attention was the telephoto lens poking out through the driver-side window. Either a secret government—or antigovernment—agency was keeping Sandy under surveillance to find evidence of her paranormal powers…or a paparazzo had sniffed out her new address.

Pretending not having noticed, Olly strolled up to the house. He heard no shutter clicks—no surprise, he was a nobody.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, and while waiting, he grabbed the contents of the overflowing mailbox. Being mindful of the photographer, he was ready to either block the view or step aside, depending on how put together Sandy was. He wasn’t prepared for the redheaded stranger opening the door. Startled by the sight, Olly gaped. He’d never seen so much gingerness from so close—he didn’t know whether to be awed or horrified.

The man glared back with frosty blue eyes. “What do you want?”

Olly pulled himself together. Redhead must’ve taken him for a magazine salesman. He put on a friendly smile. “I’m Olly. I’m here to help. With the painting. Is Sandy home?”

Redhead’s gaze failed to defrost. He turned his head and shouted, “Sands! Your prancing queen is here!” He walked away without a parting look at the shocked Olly.

“Chard! Go outside and play with your toys if you can’t behave!” Olly heard Sandy shout back, and a second later, he saw her bustling from the kitchen, flushed, hair in a mess, and wearing only a tank top and men’s boxer shorts. He quickly stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. Just in time. She caught him in a hug.

“Who is that Neanderthal?” he asked when she let him go. He had near-instant dislike for the man, and it deeply disturbed him to find someone so unpleasant in Sandy’s home. He broke out in cold sweat at the thought the two might be dating.

“My brother, Rich, as in Richard. Don’t mind him. He has no manners or common sense!” She shouted the last words in the direction her brother had disappeared. “I call him Chard when he’s being a nuisance. But you have my permission to call him Dick. But he didn’t mean what he said,” she added apologetically. “Anyway, Rich has been busy. Check out my walls.” She made a sweeping gesture as she pulled Olly into the middle of the living room.

With great relief about Sandy not dating a dick, Olly looked around. “You have walls.” Last time he’d come by, they’d been all torn out so the contractors could get to the wiring and plumbing. Sandy had gotten a good deal on the house, with the catch that it was a complete fixer-upper. The previous owners had neglected the place to the point it had become utterly gross. But now with the fresh drywall on, it started to resemble a livable place again.

Sandy seemed to think so too. Her eyes shone with pride. “Rich did it. The whole damn thing. He says there’s a hardwood floor under the carpet throughout, but we should leave refinishing it till last, after all the messy stuff’s done. I can’t wait to rip it out.” She wrinkled her nose at the grimy carpet under her feet.

“Makes sense,” Olly grudgingly agreed. For the first time, he noticed the blue painter’s tape around the edges, and as he glanced up, he saw the ceiling was already painted. At least Sandy’s dickish brother had a few useful qualities too. You couldn’t choose your family. “How long is he staying?” He tried to sound casual.

“Hm, we’ll see. Rich is…having a hard time right now. Normally, he’s not like this at all. Really. Just ignore him when he’s an ass. Is that for me?” she asked, motioning at the bundle in his hands.

“Oh! Yeah. I completely forgot. Here, your mail.”

She took the pile and threw herself on a couch covered with a dark blue sheet. It was the only piece of furniture as far as he could see, and he could see the whole living and dining room, and part of the hallway leading into the kitchen. He lowered himself onto the armrest and watched her tear open the envelopes one by one.

Sandy was beautiful even in her early morning frumpies. Oval face and creamy skin made her the girl-next-door type, but then the big blue eyes and sensuously full lips kicked it up a notch. But what set her apart from all the pretty blondes was the way she sometimes looked at you—like she was up to something wicked and there was nothing you could do about it. On Fangs, it made her character—Glynn, the slutty and black-hearted vampire—a viewers’ favorite. Glynn’s was the most delicious kind of evil.