Page 17 of Great Service from Top to Bottom

The gremlin, sensing my hesitation, wrapped its spindly fingers around the edges of the door and emerged. They weren’t all that terrifying when they weren’t screeching or trying to claw at your face. This one was about four inches tall, with big oval eyes and triangular ears. One ear had a semi-circular bite taken out of it. It sniffed the air, and eyed the shampoo potion.

“Yeah, this was a pretty dick move, huh, putting you in there? Sorry. You can go.”

Its big eyes stayed on me as it circled around, then dashed behind the sink, and vanished into the wall.

I sighed. It was getting late, and with everyone busy, the best remedy for failure would have been one of Tom Collins’s drinks, but as he was gone, the next best thing was a good night’s sleep. Which I tried. And ended up staring at the ceiling, wishing Zee were beside me.

A new day at the SOS Hotel was always an opportunity to make new, unsuspecting friends. I woke early, headed down to reception to check the guest book, and caught Reynard on his way out.

“Ah, Adam.” He veered toward the front desk, where I stood. “I was hoping I’d see you before your day began.” He wore the same suit as the day before, and the day before that. Although, I suspected it wasn’t the exact same suit, but identical versions he donned for work. He was always so manicured and measured. As posied and perfect as the paper animals he sometimes made for me. But maybe just as fragile inside?

“Did you have any luck looking for the fae salesman?” I asked, shaking the personal thoughts aside.

“Yes and no. As I suspected, few would speak with me, but I did learn there’s a fae who goes by the name Jim. He was seen selling Tom Collins units in the area at around the time you’d have purchased yours. He’s well known for selling, shall we say . . . junk?”

I closed the guest book and took Reynard to one side, leaving Madame Matase to manage the desk. “Jim?”

“Yes.”

“Just Jim?”

“Well, I did ask, since it’s an unusual name for a fae, and was told that’s the name he goes by. Junk Jim. Regardless, while I wasn’t able to find him, I did learn he sells his wares at the Ferry Plaza market every Wednesday.”

This was great news. We had a lead. “Oh, today is Wednesday.”

“The timing is serendipitous.” I loved it when he talked dirty. “Alas, the sun exposure of a street market will be a little difficult for me to endure, but perhaps Zodiac might like to explore the market with you?”

“Where am I going?” Zee appeared from the elevator, wings hidden and wearing a casual, barely buttoned flower-print shirt and surprisingly handsome blue slacks. His concierge podium had gone too.

“You’re not working today?” I asked. Taking Zee out was a great idea. It would give us time to discuss why he was avoiding me without him vanishing. I could leave the hotel to visit a market. Nothing untoward would happen in a public place.

Zee winced. “One day was enough. I thought I’d seen enough dicks stuck in holes, but dicks in bottles was not part of the deal. Poor bastard.”

That sounded awful. “Is the guest okay?”

“Oh he’s fine. I’m the poor fucking bastard for having to see that. I gave myself the day off to recover. Let this be a lesson,” he announced, so everyone in the foyer turned their gazes toward us. “Do not stick cocks in bottles, people.” Zee noticed Reynard staring blankly. “You’d know all about that, Your Lordship, since your dick is stuck in the eighteenth century.”

Reynard sighed, and switched his gaze to me. “As I was saying⁠—”

“We thought you’d lost your dick when the vampires presented your finger to us on a cushion. You remember that, Adam?” Zee elbow-bumped me and snickered. “Shriveled like a French fry.”

“Uh, yes.” Now was probably not the best time to talk about that. Maybe never. “So, Zee, will you visit a street market with me to⁠—”

“You thought the severed finger was my penis?” Reynard asked.

Zee pinched his lips together, but his eyes bulged, as though the laugh had to escape somewhere. “Yes?” The tiny word squeaked out like air leaving a balloon.

“My finger?” Reynard asked again, apparently incredulous we’d think such a thing. “You mistook a finger for my penis?”

I was incredulous we were discussing Reynard’s penis now, here, in the hotel foyer.

Zee fixed his hands on his hips and had to look away. His tail lashed with his efforts not to laugh. “If I’m honest, what was I fucking thinking? That’s crazy, right?”

“Indeed,” Reynard agreed, tugging on his cuffs. “Preposterous.”

“Your dick’s probably waaaay smaller.”

Reynard looked up. “Demon, my penis is a perfectly adequate size.”