Read Tango with a Twist (Smashwords edition.) Page 38

  #scenebreak

   

  Juicy even stopped by once. For the most part, if Tango wasn’t with me, she was with Juicy, who’d been vocal about her opinion of the local cops’ ability to protect her friend. So it was a bit of a surprise to see her. “Hey there, Attention Whore,” she said from the doorway to my room.

  When I started to get out of bed, she closed her eyes and held a hand up between us. “Do not take off that sheet if Captain America is all you have on your lily white ass.” She turned away. “In fact, I’ll just meet you down in the garage. I wanna show you some dance shit I found.” She called up one last comment from the stairs. “Fully dressed, Foxtrot.”

  I was already wearing sweats, but I threw on a t-shirt and jazz flats. Since this was Juicy, chances were ballroom shoes wouldn’t be flexible enough.

  I was right. The sequence was filled with a lot of dropping to our knees and then rolling up to our feet. It was physically demanding, but none of the moves seemed tremendously complicated. The team was going to go ballistic for this stuff!

  “Okay,” she declared after I saw the video once. “I already figured it out, so why don’t I just teach it to you?” She slipped her cell into a pocket and turned to me. For the first time since I’d met her, she hesitated. “You think it’s cool, right?”

  “Stellar.”

  She rolled her eyes and returned to her usual cockiness. “You really like that word.” She shook out her legs and kicked one foot high enough to eat her own knee. “And you think it’s cool.” But she was teasing.

  Okay, the stuff was harder than it’d looked. But it was still stellar.

  By the time I had the moves down, we’d realized it would be twice as cool with the crew split down the middle and each half dancing as a mirror to the other. I figured with me to demonstrate and Tango to help break it down, everyone should be able to nail it. Juicy, for obvious reasons, would pretend she’d never seen it before.

   

   

   

   

   

  fifteen

   

  Twist emptied Fox’s painkillers into a plastic baggy of fine white powder. He shook the bag as if it were a soon-to-be-fried chicken then spread the mess on a paper towel on the bathroom counter. The old witch had given him the idea: just use poison. She might’ve claimed to be all goodness and light, but there was some badass juju in her book. 

  He waved a hand in a circle over the pills. “Confusion and mess, slide into death.” He didn’t feel anything. Oh well, the book said not to expect flashes of light or smoke because that was for the tourists.

  He picked the pills out with a tweezers and dropped them into the bottle. He replaced the bottle into the medicine cabinet. Everyone on the crew was nervous about the practice that night, especially Fox. He’d never notice the difference.

  Twist shoved everything into a plastic bag and into a pocket. He left the bathroom. Should he install a camera over the bed? The footage he had of Katy with Corey in the studio made him want to kill the dumb ox, but it was also the hottest stuff he had. No. No need. Fox would be out of the way too soon.

  The house was deserted, but as Twist reached the front hall, a car drove up. He settled his shoulders, grasped the doorknob firmly and opened it just as Mr. Fox stomped up the porch. “Hey there, Mr. Fox. Fancy meeting you here.”

  The huge man froze a moment. “Everything okay?”

  Twist hugged himself. “Everything’s perfect, sir.” He jabbed an elbow in the direction of the house. “Just returning one of Mrs. Davis’s pie plates.” He rubbed his stomach. “That sister of yours makes the world’s best apple pie.”

  Mr. Fox beamed. “That she does.”

  “Okay then.” Twist held the door as Mr. Fox passed inside. “You have yourself a great day.”

  Ever since his first murder, Twist felt unstoppable.