Tiny Glitches: A Magical Contemporary Romance (7 page)

We were almost beyond the side of the Suburban. Another step, and the world would see me hugging a baby elephant. Kyoko swung her head, agitated. Her trunk smacked me in the butt, and I yelped.

“She’s pervy with women, too,” Ski Mask said, snickering.

“Huh,” the Samoan said.

“Any day now, guys,” I said.

The Samoan
finally
stepped forward. “Hector, get your arms under her neck and front legs,” he said, gesturing to Plaid Shirt. “Tim, you and Xavier get her right side. I’ll take the left.”

Behind him, Mark braced his hands on his knees and nodded when the others looked to him for affirmation. Hudson joined Ski Mask on my side, Hector squatted to grab Kyoko’s neck, and the Samoan slid his arms under her belly. I let go, reaching for a carrot.

“On three,” Hudson said. “One, two, three.” They hoisted Kyoko a foot in the air.

Kyoko prodded Hector’s back, questing beneath the waistband of his sagging shorts and straight down the center of his crack.

“Those aren’t kiwis!” Hector shouted, springing away from Kyoko. Her trunk snapped free of Hector’s waistband, and she loosed an ear-blasting trumpet, dangling front legs flailing. The Samoan lurched back a step, catching the brunt of Kyoko’s squirming weight. In an awkward pyramid, the men tilted two steps back, then three forward.

I leapt for the Suburban, scrambling inside ahead of Kyoko, less concerned with flashing the men than I was with Kyoko’s safety. The elephant poked the hatch door, hooking her trunk on the lip. I grabbed the curled tip of her trunk and pulled her head down, trying not to think about the agile appendage’s most recent location.

“A little help,” the Samoan said, teeth gritted.

“No way! That elephant molested me. It touched my cajones!”

“Man up.” Mark shoved Hector behind Kyoko. They each braced against a cheek and pushed from behind. The moment Kyoko’s front feet touched the carpeted Suburban, she bugled again and flailed with her back legs. Faces red with strain, the men shoved her the last two feet into the SUV. The tank-size vehicle tilted, groaning, before settling at a twenty-degree cant. Everyone staggered back and Hudson whisked shut the hatch, locking me inside with an irate elephant.

I threw myself over the row of seats in case Kyoko was in a trampling frame of mind. The roof cleared her head by less than a hand span. The sides weren’t much wider than her rotund belly. She tried to turn around, knocking her butt, then her head against the plastic-wrapped metal bracings. She plastered her cheeks against the rear window, and through the tinted glass, I saw the Samoan point and laugh. All the men scuttled to the side when the glass gritted in its mooring. I grabbed the last of the carrots and dumped them onto the carpet.

“It’s okay, girl. This won’t be for long,” I said, praying the Suburban would make it all the way to my aunt’s. I didn’t think Kyoko—or Hudson—would be up for doing this twice.

Kyoko slid the tip of her trunk along the window, then the back of the seat. I let her snuffle my hand and arm but leaned back when she went for my hair. There were limits to where I’d let her put that thing, especially since I knew her exploratory predilections.

She tilted her head back, trumpeted loud enough to rattle the windows, then reached for a carrot and stuffed it into her mouth.

I straightened my dress—how long had the top been that low?—then jumped out, ears ringing. I brushed hands down my body and winced at my knees rubbed red from the carpet and tender to the touch. Through the tinted windows, I could barely make out the hulking shape of Kyoko. Good. She shouldn’t attract attention.

Hudson paid the men. Hector looked wild-eyed, and he rubbed surreptitiously at his crack. When Xavier tried to razz him, Hector punched the younger man hard on the arm.

“Redheads and trouble go hand in hand,” Mark said, walking over to me after he pocketed Hudson’s money. “That’s what my father always said. But always worth it.” He winked and pressed a business card into my palm. I’d guessed correctly: He was the owner of the tattoo parlor. “Anytime you want, I’ll ink you wherever you want. On me.”

The group sauntered back to the strip mall. Mark limped, and he unabashedly massaged himself through his pants.

“What was that about?” Hudson asked.

“Apparently I have perfect skin,” I said. “And I can get free tattoos.”

“See. What’d I tell you? You didn’t see them offering me anything free. In fact, that cost me everything I had.”

I winced. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He went to the driver’s side and opened the passenger door. He pulled a bowl and a water bottle out of the plastic bag behind the seat, then crawled in and placed the bowl down on Kyoko’s side. I climbed into the front seat while he filled the bowl. I was more than ready to leave this parking lot.

The Suburban purred when Hudson turned over the engine. A trickle of cool air fed through the vents, circulating the smell of musty elephant. I adjusted the vents to angle back toward Kyoko.

“What about the truck?” I asked as we rolled past it. Even compared to the truck, the Suburban felt big—wide, long, and heavy. It fit a freaking elephant; that should say it all.

“The moment we find Jenny, we’ll tell her where it is,” Hudson said.

“And if it was stolen, what about evidence?” I’d read plenty of thrillers; I knew how forensics worked these days.

“I called work while I was driving back earlier. I had the same thought. They ran the plates for me. It’s registered to Edmond Zambo. I’m hoping he was the driver of the car Jenny got away in.”

“She had a getaway driver? How long has she been planning this?”

“You sure she doesn’t hold a grudge against you for something stupid in high school?”

I shook my head. “If so, I’m clueless. Wait, how does a security installation company run a plate?”

“EliteGuard is on good terms with the police. Wade, my boss, freelances for them sometimes.”

I filed that information away. “What about finding information on Jenny? Can they do that, too?” In a careful, controlled way that wouldn’t spook Jenny.

“Wade’s already on it.”

“What?” My heart jumped to my throat. If Hudson had told his boss about Kyoko, my life could already be over.

“I asked him to run a background check on her. I thought I’d better hold off on mentioning the elephant until we know what we’re dealing with.”

I eased out a breath and loosened my grip on the door handle. “Ah. Good thinking.”

Hudson merged back onto the 10. I twisted in my seat to watch Kyoko. The stop-and-go traffic had cleared while we’d been sitting in the parking lot, and Kyoko appeared as unfazed by the traffic ebbing around us as she was by going seventy miles an hour. I faced forward and straightened my skirt.

“Do you ever do that?” I asked. A van full of teenagers whipped around us and passed in the slow lane. No one took a second look at the Suburban.

“What?”

“Freelance for the police.”

“Not often. It’s not really my specialty.”

Water sloshed behind us. I twisted in time to see Kyoko lift a dripping trunk toward her mouth.

“Looks like she was thirsty. Good thinking on the bowl,” I said.

“Thanks.”

She reversed her trunk and curled it over her head. Water sprayed across the ceiling of the Suburban.

“Holy crap!”

Hudson yanked the rearview mirror into a new position. “Did she just . . . ?”

“Turn into a fountain? Yep.”

Kyoko sprayed herself again, and it sounded like a hurricane swirled through the back of the Suburban. Most of the water soaked the ceiling above her head. The thin fabric sagged, then it started raining. Kyoko dunked her trunk again.

“No!” I cried. “No, no, no, no.” I unbuckled my seat belt and twisted onto my knees. Hudson changed lanes, and I tipped into the center console. He grabbed for me, steadying me with a hand square on my ass. I clutched the back of the seat and shot him a look. His eyes remained glued to the road, but his hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary.

Kyoko doused the left side of the roof with water. She shifted, and the whole vehicle sagged to the right. Hudson compensated at the wheel. Water dripped to the carpet in soggy splats, and Kyoko bugled her delight. I clamped my hands over my ears. She ran her trunk along the roof, sending a spray of water across her face and leaving a furrow of mud.

I lunged over the center console again, but Hudson grabbed my arm.

“I need to get the water away from her,” I said.

“There’s no point now.”

Kyoko swung her trunk, smacking into the window. It vibrated but held.

“What’s the elephant safety rating of these windows?” I asked.

“Substandard, I’m guessing.”

Kyoko dipped her trunk into the bowl but came up dry. She reached for the roof and plucked the loosened fabric with the tip of her trunk. Droplets splattered me, and I lurched back, half sitting on the dash. The stain of water on the roof bloated outward and tunneled in rivulets down the ceiling toward the back door. Fat drops hammered the carpet and drummed on the leather seats. Kyoko prodded the inky ceiling, turning in tight steps to chase the rivulets. Her rough hindquarters slid along the side of the Suburban. A seat belt caught on her back leg and stretched with ominous clicks. Another shuffled step, and it ricocheted back to the plastic panel with a loud crack. I winced.

At a turn in the freeway, Kyoko sat on the edge of the window frame. The door groaned. Hudson lurched for the electronic lock button and the locks slammed home in surround sound. Kyoko stood and shuffled until she had her back to us, her trunk pressed to the rear window, making slimy patterns in the trails of water.

I shared a horrified look with Hudson.

“Did that just happen?”

He sprouted a silver top hat; Baltic Avenue draped his chest.

I dropped my forehead to the headrest. Thanks to Hurricane Kyoko, I may have just purchased my first vehicle. My meager savings evaporated in my mind’s eye.

A groan of leather brought my head up. Kyoko pressed her butt against the back of the second row of seats and leaned her weight into it, reaching for the ceiling again. Something popped deep in the seat.

“Shoo, Kyoko. Get up.” I waved my arms halfheartedly.

Kyoko raised her stubby tail.

“Oh, shit!” My knee slipped, and I fell half to the floor. Something made the flapping sound of a Whoopee Cushion. “Did she just—”

The fumes of her fart hit me like a slap. I coughed and crumpled completely under the dash, burrowing my nose in my elbow.

“Was that you?” Hudson asked.

I gaped at his innocent expression, then clamped my mouth shut.

Hudson hit a button on his armrest and both our windows zipped down; then he cracked the next set of windows. Hot air swirled through the cabin, whipping my hair into my eyes. Car exhaust had never smelled so good.

When I glanced up at Hudson, his eyes were crinkled at the corners. The Monopoly board apparitions were gone, replaced by an enormous fluffy white cloud with false rays of sun shining through it, haloing Hudson’s upper body.

“Are you laughing?” I shouted above the freeway noise. This wasn’t funny. Kyoko had
ruined
this rental.

Hudson’s lips twitched; then he broke into a full-face grin. Panic leaked from my limbs and I became aware of my sprawl. I yanked my skirt down from my waist to cover my thighs and shoved myself back into my seat, glowered at everything, including the van of teenage boys who had slowed down to stare at me.

“Did I flash them, too?” I asked, not meeting Hudson’s eyes.

“Only when you had your ass in the air. Since then, it’s been just me.”

“Like what you saw?” It was difficult to convey sarcasm while shouting over freeway noise.

“I was hoping for a thong.”

* * *

The Suburban was grinding and sputtering when Hudson made the final turn onto my aunt’s street. I pointed to her house, and we coasted into the private circular driveway.

The Suburban died with quiet dignity. It had lasted exactly twenty-seven minutes.

Not bad, considering my horror and acute embarrassment.

Hudson set the emergency brake. His scowl was back, along with the silver top hat and terrier, both situated on enormous Monopoly squares—Park Place and Boardwalk this time.

“What are the odds of two vehicles breaking down on us? I think this elephant is cursed. That’s why Jenny foisted it off on you.”

I let his grumblings wash over me. I had more pressing concerns. Aunt Sofie stood in her front doorway, staring at me through the windshield of the SUV,
that
smile on her face when she spotted Hudson in the driver’s seat. Among the collection of content and happy-to-see-me apparitions, oversize finger puppets tipped the nails of her right hand—knit wolves, with leopard spots. She was about to meddle.

Sofie had the strongest gift our family had seen in five generations. It had been Sofie, not my mother, who had taught me about my unique ability, first to keep it a secret as a toddler and later how to live with it. As Sofie had explained it, layers of divinations flowed around everyone in a kaleidoscope of images. My gift gave me access to one wavelength of apparitions: a person’s current emotional state. It was like seeing only one color in the spectrum. Sofie was privy to a modified rainbow. She had a weaker version of my gift, and she also saw critical emotional crossroads in someone’s past and images of people and places strongly tied to each person. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of what a person wanted—an area my mother specialized in. Sofie never glimpsed apparitions related to relationships, like Nana Nevie, or so she claimed. Sofie’s gift had limits, but one look at Hudson, and she probably knew more about him than I did.