"Are you sure?" I ask.
He grins. "Will you just pick a flavor, already?"
I press my hands against the glass and stare down, buzzing with excitement. It's sad how little it takes to get me going.
Pick orange sherbet, Wilson says. That stuff is amazing!
"Hell, no," I say.
Cain gives me a questioning look, and I gather that I just spoke aloud to Wilson. I wave my hand like it's nothing and return to this critical choice.
"I'll take Cookies and Cream," I say to the man waiting on us. "No, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. No, sorry, the first one. Definitely the first one."
The man sighs. "Cookies and Cream?"
Cain leans in behind me. His stomach presses into my back and I try not to think about how enormous he is. Like a tidal wave arched over a fire ant. "Give her a scoop of each in a waffle cone."
I want to tell him that's too much, that he shouldn't spend all his cash on me. But I can't bring myself to do this. Call me selfish if it'll make you feel better. This is ice cream we're talking about.
I smile when the man hands my loot over, and I wait patiently(ish) as Cain orders two scoops of vanilla bean with sprinkles. I rag on him pretty hard about those sprinkles, and he belly laughs the whole time. I think he may have ordered them just to hear me berate him.
"You're the only girl I'd let talk smack to me about my sprinkles," he says.
I take a bite and mutter. "I'm the only girl that'd dare mention it." I mean it as a joke, but the smile slips from Cain's face. "Did I say something wrong?"
He shakes his head. Ice cream drips over his knuckles as we sit across from each other, customers chatting around us. "No. It's just … you're not afraid of me, are you?"
"Are you afraid of me?" I ask.
He laughs once. "No, I'm not."
"Then why would I be afraid of you?"
Cain finishes his ice cream in another few bites. He eats like a blue whale, all that food just sliding down his throat like he's swallowing a fishing boat and a great white shark and maybe a tire or three. After he wipes his mouth, he says, "You really think I'd be scared of you if I knew what you did?"
I'm suddenly colder than the last lick of Bluebell in my hand. I'm solid as the earth. "Maybe you wouldn't be afraid," I say, measuring my words. "But you should be."
He scoffs. "Impossible."
For one glittering moment, I consider telling him my secrets. Right here, leaned across this table, squat in the middle of Pox's famous Ice Cream joint. But I hesitate too long, and then it's gone. I open my mouth to fill the void but stop when I hear something said behind me that sets off bells. Like hearing a parent calling for their kid, and then understanding it's you they're calling for, and that's your parent.
I tilt my head so I can better hear what's being said.
" … say Ellie's been there for months, the poor girl. It's not like anything anyone does will help."
A new voice chimes in. "I heard her father came into town looking for her. Said he was taking Ellie's picture up and down Main Street, but of course no one's talking."
I shoot up in my chair and cross the room. Maybe I should form some sort of plan before barreling over there, but I know only that this girl I replaced is named Ellie and is someone I haven't been able to get out of my head. And here are two people finally talking.
I sidle up next to their table and run my hands over my naked hair. I hate Poppet right now for confiscating my wigs. "Hi," I say dumbly. The two women look up. "I apologize for interrupting, but I heard you say my friend's name. Ellie?"
The larger woman leans back in her chair. "And you are?"
"Domino," I answer. When the woman continues staring at me, I add, "I live at Madam Karina's place, and I'm looking for Ellie."
The thinner woman stares across the space at her friend, worry creasing her face. She's clearly waiting for the larger woman to speak. Eventually, she does. "No one knows where Ellie is, dear. She just up and vanished. Upset Madam Karina something awful."
"Madam Karina is a friend of ours," the thinner woman blurts out. "We hated to see her upset. If any trouble came to that little girl, it was well deserved."
"Shut up, Viola," the other woman says. She glances up at me. "Look, go back to that boy over there and enjoy the day. Don't worry yourself with bygones." As an afterthought, she says, "And tell Madam Karina we said hello, and that we'll be sure to bring her some of our canned pears soon."
"And you are?" I say, repeating her earlier words. Behind me, I hear a chair slide across the floor. Three earthquake steps later, Cain brushes up beside me.