Page 82 of No Headlines Please

Beyond confused, I stopped and turned around. "Are you following me?"

Her mouth tightened. "No. I'm trying to talk to you."

Her claim was a little odd, considering she hadn't said two words during the elevator ride down. I stared. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious." Her chin lifted. "I have a niece your age, and I don't like what I'm seeing."

"What exactly are you seeing?" I threw up my hands. "Because if this is about the garbage, I already told you, I was just getting a receipt."

She scoffed. "From the trash?"

"Yes, actually."

"Why?"

This wasn't her business. But by now, it was pretty obvious that she wasn't going to let it go until she received a better explanation. I let out a resigned sigh. "Because I'm here visiting my sister, and I thought she might need it."

From the look on her face, she still wasn't buying it. "And who, exactly, is your sister?"

Unbelievable. "Well…if you must know, it's Tessa Sinclair."

Her brow wrinkled. "The girl from 710?" She pointed down the hall toward Tessa's apartment. "The pretty blonde?"

Already, I could see the wheels turning. "Yes."

She eyed me up and down before asking, "Are you sure? She never mentioned you."

My jaw clenched. "Funny, she never mentioned you either."

Totally missing the point, she asked, "And how do I know you're really her sister?"

Oh, for God's sake. "You don't, because it's none of your business."

She drew back. "Well, I'm sorry for being concerned."

Yeah, right. She didn't sound sorry at all, and even the concerned part was debatable.

Even worse, she wasn't quite done. "And Tessa is always so polite." Unlike you. But she didn't say that last part. She didn't need to.

Her expression said it all.

Tessa was pretty and polite.

I was the grotesque trash-grubbing jerk.

I barely knew this woman, but the implication still stung.

I wasn't grotesque. I just wasn't a ten, that's all. And okay, maybe I had been grubbing in the trash, but it's not like I'd eaten a single thing out of that burger bag. I hadn't even opened it.

Was I a jerk?

I guess I could be if I was backed into a corner – or in this case, hounded everywhere I went.

I summoned up a smirk. "Oh, so Tessa never told you to get bent, huh?"

She gave a little gasp. "Did you seriously tell me to get bent?"

Great. And now I felt like a jerk. "Not technically," I hedged. "I did phrase it as a question, remember?"