#Book 1 - Page 28 (1/2)

He folded his hands neatly in front of him and put on a very sweet smile.

“Would you mind getting me a piece of pie?” He raised his brows, the wide-eyed manic look coming into his eyes.

I tried not to roll my own eyes and got up. I opened the fridge, bent over and pulled out the pie and a bottle of milk. I waved it at him.

“Want a gla.s.s of milk, too?” I asked scornfully.

He was staring at my a.s.s. At least that’s what it looked like. I guess when it’s the biggest thing in the room, it must be hard not to stare at it.

I waited for him to look up. He eventually did and gave me a bright, innocent flash of straight teeth.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Were you staring at my a.s.s?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. His eyes were round and crazy. Or playful, if you wanted to use a polite term for crazy.

I shook my head. I put the milk back in the fridge, without bending over this time, got out a fork and put a pie slice in front of him. I could feel the flames creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks.

He didn’t seem bothered by it.

“Obviously, I’ll need a napkin too,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Obviously,” I muttered, as I walked over to the drawer and tossed a napkin in front of him. I sat back down across from him and eyed him warily.

He folded it neatly a few times and then put it into his s.h.i.+rt pocket so it stuck out like a handkerchief. Then he dug into his pie, finis.h.i.+ng it off in a few mouthfuls. He pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with the back of hand, apparently forgetting about his napkin.

He noticed me. I guess I was staring again. He’d better get used to it though, it was hard not to when he was acting so...oh G.o.d, so many adjectives to use here.

“You’re not having anything?” He pointed at me with the fork.

“I don’t like pie,” I said feebly. That wasn’t true, but I don’t know why I lied.

“You don’t like pie? What kind of person doesn’t like pie?” He laughed. He reached forward and actually poked me in the arm with the fork. Lightly, but still. “You can’t be trusted.”

I instinctively batted the fork away from me. “You’re the one with the fork.”

He opened up my hand and placed the fork in it. “Now you have the fork.”

He sat back in his chair, looked down at his writing and thoughtfully scratched his sideburns. And just like that, it was—

“I just want you to enjoy the pies in life, Perry,” he shot in. “That’s all.”

“I enjoy...pies,” I managed to say. I wasn’t about to charm him with my wit, that’s for sure.

“Pies are a metaphor,” he said quickly. He exhaled.

Then slammed his fist down on the table. The pie plate jumped. I jumped. I’m pretty sure the twins in the other room jumped.

“All right, enough lollygagging,” he barked. “Let’s have a concrete plan of action for tonight. As much I love to fly by the seat of my pants and s.h.i.+t everywhere, I don’t think we can afford to do that this time. Maybe next time. Sound good?”

“Oh G.o.d, whatever,” I uttered under my breath.

“That’s the spirit,” he mused and started scribbling furiously on the paper. I soon realized he was drawing a detailed layout of the lighthouse.

“Now there were four levels, right?”

I couldn’t remember. “I don’t know. How far did you make it before I showed up?”

“Not to the top.” He finished the sketch and jabbed at the tower with the pen. “We’ll be going up there tonight.”

So much for having enough “events” to keep us in the safer downstairs levels.

He pointed to the house part of the building. “We’ll also hit up the second floor here now that we have the key. And I’d like to get you back into that bedroom again.”

I felt sick at that idea, remembering what Uncle Al had told me about the dead woman tied to the bed with kelp.

“I’ll try,” I said. “But I’m not going to do anything stupid. Got that?”

Dex gave me a quick smile. “Sure.”

It wasn’t very rea.s.suring. I wondered if that was one of his lies.

We went on to discuss what equipment we would be bringing, what I should say to the camera and where the start and finish rooms were.

“We should probably have a safety word too,” he said.

“A safety word? Like in S&M?”

His eyes flashed, animated and bright. “The safety word is ‘Jell-O’.”

G.o.d help me if I ever had to say “Jell-O” for any reason.

I gave him a wry smile but his eyes were focused past me on the living room. I turned my head to see Matt and Tony standing there, whispering stuff into each other’s ears and giving us the stare down.

“Can we help you?” Dex asked.

“What’s up, boys?” I added in a more lighthearted tone.