God, she loves torturing me.
She eyes my mucked-up clothes, brown socks, and green-tinged skin and snorts. “What happened to you, anyway?”
“You happened to me, Nomi Wyeth!You!” I grab my still-dripping T-shirt and wring it out in front of my body, sluicing off more of the disgusting water. I don’t miss the way her eyes track across my abs, though, and it makes me draw my shirt up higher, just to prove my point. I don’t know what point thatis, exactly, but I’m gonna prove thefuckout of it. “You sent your hench-twins after me, and they threw me in the river!”
That’s not exactly what happened, but it was clearly the intended outcome. So.
Nomi’s eyes widen, as though she didn’t plan the whole thing herself. “Ridge and Thorn threw you in the river?” She busts out an oversized laugh. “No, they didnot.”
“The monozygotic weirdos have hippie names? Ironic since they came upon mewithviolence.”
“Their mom loves soap operas, and Ridge and Thorn wouldnever.”
“Sure, says the woman responsible!” I rake my hair out of my eyes and pull away gunk wrapped around my fingers. “Ugh!And the flyers? You’re trying to ruin my life!”
“Wow. In case you forgot, my dispensary is under a zoning investigation, and I’m out here in a farm stand trying to make enough money to survive. Becauseyou’retrying to ruinmylife.”
“Just call off your hench-people, Wyeth!”
“Listen, Julian, you’re clearly in over your head, so I’m going to let you in on a secret.” Nomi leans over the counter toward me, the space between her delicate collarbones and her round, shapely breasts incredibly lick-able.
I cannot help but move closer, too, as though this secret she’s about to share holds the meaning of life. Her skin looks so soft, and without my consent, my own body relives the feel of that soft skin pressed against my chest, the tight buds of her nipples bearing into me through two layers of clothing. Her voice drops to a low, husky whisper.
“I don’t have to call off a thing because I didn’t ask for any of this. These aremypeople. Andmy peoplehateyour guts.” Her whispered voice grates over each syllable, raising the hairs on my arms. “Withdraw. The. Complaint.” She pauses to wrinkle her nose, then backs away. “And take a shower, myGod, you smell like moldy bread.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
NOMI
Why can’t I sell cannabis at the farm stand anymore?” I clutch the cell phone hard to my face, keeping my voice low since the zoning detective’s back and currently poking around my inventory room. As if empty stash boxes and humidifier packs have anything to do with whether my dispensary qualifies as a “pharmacy,” or an “amoral weed bordello,” as Julian’s complaint alleges.
“I’m sorry, Nomi,” the city council clerk says through the receiver, sounding genuinely distressed. “A Council-friend saw you and asked whether it was legal, so I had to call the State Cannabis Regulatory Commission. They said you’d need a different license for that. She gave me a link to the paperwork; I can send it to you if you like.”
Council-friend, my ass. This smacks of Julian’s doing. “How fast is the approval turnaround, did she say?”
“Three months.”
Fuck, I mouth silently at the wall.
I thank the clerk for the information and disconnect the call. Another three months of no income from cannabis, and we’ll officially be destitute. The rent is too high to cover with no profits coming in, and judging by the detective’s sour demeanor, I’m not acing this investigation, either. I rest my head on the counter, and I’m still lying here when Eve comes intwenty minutes later, high as a kite and carrying a box of hand-stamped shopping bags we spent all weekend making.
Fornothing.
“Hmm,” Eve says after I fill her in on the latest blow to our livelihood, then sits on a red vinyl stool at the counter. “We could set up an OnlyFans.”
“Angle?” I ask, face still smushed against the glass.
“I could braid your hair while you pop bubble wrap.” Eve revolves on her stool like Bella in that overly cinematic moment inTwilight. “Or you could show off your big flap. People like scars.”
“Eve.”
“It’ll be like Tiny Tim, but vulvas.” Eve’s eyes get big. “We could make it a little crutch and everything!”
“Eve!I’m not getting into flap content.”
Eve frowns, which usually makes me laugh because it wrinkles her entire face like a bulldog. But even Eve’s bulldog face does nothing for me now.
“We could sell coffee…” Eve begins. “For real.”
