Night Shift by Charlaine Harris Page A

She stepped to the door that shut the living quarters away from the shop area, but before she could close it Kiki stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and nothing else. Her hair was piled in a haphazard bun on top of her head, and a gust of steamy air enveloped her. She gave Quinn a look that Fiji could only term “come hither” before she sashayed down the hall to the guest bedroom, giving Quinn a great view of her rear end.
    Fiji, casting her eyes up, shut the door and returned to her company. “Ew, sorry,” Fiji said.
    “I’ve seen women’s butts before,” Quinn said.
    “It’s just . . . she’s separated from her husband and I think she’s . . .”
    “Trying to test the waters?” He smiled down at her.
    “Yeah, something like that.” Fiji felt relieved. “She’s not really . . .”
    “That easy?” Quinn said.
    “Yeah.” Though Fiji thought maybe Kiki was pretty easy; she just didn’t want her friends to know that. Fiji struggled with the idea that Kiki’s sexual activity wasn’t her problem for all of thirty seconds. Then she admitted to herself that if Kiki were a slut, it would make her feel embarrassed for them both.
    “Feej,” he said. “Everyone here knows you. We don’t know her. We don’t expect her to be like you. You’re one of a kind. My son has told me many times how great you’ve been to him, how much care you take of your neighbors, how much concern you have for this community, how much genuine talent you have.”
    “You talking about Feej’s baking? Because she is a mighty fine cook,” Kiki said, opening the door from the hall. She managed to sound both sassy and provocative. Fiji couldn’t believe how quickly her sister had shoehorned herself into tight jeans, an aqua T-shirt, and no bra, a lack that was quite obvious.
    “Fiji is a fine witch,” Quinn said. “I am surprised you don’t know that.”
    Kiki tossed her head. “Riiiight,” she said. “You and the guy across the street have both told me that my sister’s a witch. And I’m from Area Fifty-Four. You all take yourselves pretty seriously here in Midnight. By the way, I’m Kiki Ransom. Fiji’s sister.”
    “My older sister,” Fiji murmured, and winked at Quinn with the eye that Kiki couldn’t see.
    “Slightly older,” Kiki amended, though with good humor. “And you are?”
    “This is Quinn,” Fiji said. “Diederik’s father. You know Diederik, the young man with the beautiful eyes?”
    “I see where he gets ’em from,” Kiki said. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you live here year round, Quinn?”
    “No,” he said pleasantly. “I travel a lot. That’s why Diederik stays here.”
    “So he can go to school,” Kiki said, nodding. “I get it.”
    Diederik ‘went to school’ by learning from each of them. He took religion and hard work from the Rev, he learned magic and shopkeeping and reading from Fiji, he learned basic math and form-filling from Bobo, computer skills and thinking quickly from Manfred, and he learned the evaluation of old things and the way to deal with customers from Joe and Chuy. He’d even had cooking lessons from Madonna and gotten paid for his janitorial work at the Midnight Hotel.
    “Yes, school,” said Quinn. “Will you excuse us a moment, Kiki? I need to talk to Fiji before I get back to the hotel for a conference call.” He turned to walk out to the front porch, and Fiji followed, a bit baffled and apprehensive. Quinn spent time in Midnight as often as he could, but she didn’t feel as though she truly knew him.
    The front porch was stone, like the rest of the house, and there was a broad knee-high wall on the outer side running between the squat stone pillars. Fiji and Quinn sat on the wall. She was full of curiosity.
    “As we’ve been saying, Diederik is almost the right age for me to start taking him with me,” Quinn said.
    “We’ll all miss him,” she said, because that was safe and sincere, and she didn’t yet