ME: I’m coming up now.
SCARLETT: Don’t bother. Stay downstairs and I’ll come down.
I do as she says, and I stay put, taking a seat in the apartment lobby, lounging in one of the plush black and orange chairs. I flick through a sports magazine for a few seconds, not taking any interest, but trying to make myself seem busy until she finally appears through the elevator doors.
She’s dressed differently too, in black jeans and a steel blue crew neck and her brown hair is down instead of tied back with one of those ribbons. I watch her fiddle with the ends of it, slapping it out of her face angrily.
She checks her left and right as if she’s crossing a road before speed-walking over to me, a little limp still in her leg. She does the motion for me to get up with her hand, tilting her head towards the exit. I do as I’m told and follow her.
She still hasn’t said anything by the time we’re crossing the parking lot towards her car and it’s then that I put the pieces together. I fall into step beside her, grinning.
“Oh my God. Am I your dirty, little secret?” I gasp dramatically. She turns to me, still walking as she scoffs.
“Yes, you are. I would rather stab myself in the eye than let my friends believe that I’mwillinglygoing out in public with you,” she says sweetly. We reach her car, and she stands with her arms against her chest, pinning me with one ofthoselooks.
“‘Going out’ is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” I ask, still smiling. Dropping my voice to a whisper, quickly scanning the parking lot as I add, “We’re on our way to assess a possible murder situation. We’re undercover spies.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just get in the car.”
I’m still grinning when we’re ten minutes into the ride, and I can tell she’s still annoyed about me being here. Some days I’ll be the grumpy one and others she will be the grumpy one. On a rare day, we’re both grumpy and pissed off, edging each other on. I like getting her riled up. I honestly don’t think I’ve had this much fun since I was a kid.
“We’re going to need codenames,” I announce. She glances at me, frowning before turning back to the road as well as turning up the radio.
?Tread Carefully by SZA
“We’re not doing that.”
I ignore her. “I’m going to call you ‘Linda’ for the rest of tonight. Is that cool?” She groans in response, although I can’t tell if it’s from the traffic we merged into or the new name. “Thought so. I’ll be Danny.”
She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. I knew she’d come around to it soon. Maybe she’s into the whole role-playing thing. I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Hey, Danny?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got a dumb fucking name,” she says. Then she starts laughing. At her own joke. She doesn’t need me to laugh. Hell, I don’t think shewantsme to laugh. She just sits there happily, smiling at her own jokes like she's a fucking comedian. I swear she’s secretly such a dork. What’s worse is the fact thatIcan’t stop smiling.
“Well, you got Linda so sucks to suck,” I retort, sounding as childish as ever. After the weird conversations we had last night, this is the kind of frenemy territory I want to be in. The kind that we’ve got used to.
“Everyone knows that Linda’s are cool. She’s the best character inBob’s Burgers,” she argues, glancing at me for a split second before turning back to the road. I haven’t watched that show since I was a kid.
“Louise is obviously the best character,” I say back. “You remind me of her, actually. Instead of her pink hat that she always wears, you have ribbons.”
She snorts. “I’m not wearing one today and I’m not having a nervous breakdown.” I don’t know if she’s trying to hide the ribbon I can see tied around her wrist, but I’ve already seen it.
“Glad to know you have better emotional intelligence than a ten-year-old.”
She gives me one of her killer death stares before turning to the road. For a second, I swear I see a small smile on her face.
Maybe I’m imagining it.
* * *
The restaurant is the perfect place to scope out the current target. It’s all brown and woody, giving it an overall cabin vibe with dark orange lights hanging over the table. It has an open kitchen, allowing customers to see straight into the front line of those working the grill, which is also where we’re planning to spot Gerard. We took a seat in front of the window, directly across from the kitchen, giving Scarlett the view of the door and both of us a good look at the kitchen.
Since we’ve sat down and had the waiter take our orders, she’s not said anything. I’m still not sure exactly where we stand and how to go about it. I’m used to her talking. I’m used to her shit-talking me and making fun of me.
When I can't take the silence anymore as she fiddles with the napkin, I say, “Hey, look. I didn’t want to bring it up, but it feels wrong not to tell you.” She looks up at me now, her eyes slightly darkening as her eyebrows furrow. “I’ve seen a few pictures. Of us. From last night.”
