Page 7 of And Now, Back to You

His eyes flick down and up again. “Are you not . . . wearing clothes?”

I stop trying to turn my bag inside out. “This is a turtle suit, Mark.”

“And yet, there are pants.”

I stare down at my feet. My flipper-covered feet. “These are turtle pants.”

“I don’t see the difference, to be honest.”

“I don’t—” I huff, rolling my lips together. “You know what? Never mind. I need a change of clothes. Can we swing by my house on the way to the station?”

Mark gently pinches my bicep between his thumb and forefinger and guides me around to the front of the news van. He deposits me at the passenger-side door and pats the top of my head. Of course, my side is the dumpster side. “We don’t have time. You need to go to your meeting.”

“I am not going to this meeting dressed as a turtle, Mark!”

He rounds the front of the van. “I’m telling you, they don’t look like turtle pants.”

“They have fins!”

“Is that what those are?” He jams his key into the ignition. The van rattles to life beneath us. “Huh.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You can drop me off at the station, but I am not going inside dressed like a turtle.”

Thirty minutes later, I am standing in the front lobby of YBAL News, dressed like a turtle.

“Woah,” Gianna says, stumbling to a stop halfway across the lobby, backing up with a mug of coffee in each hand. I know they’re both for her. When she’s in research mode, she’s powered by caffeine and those little packages of fruit snacks from Costco. The only time she leaves her desk is when she runs out. I must have caught her during a refresh cycle.

She tilts her head and squints at me, the pencil shoved through the middle of her enormous bun wobbling. Glossy auburn hair, gemstone eyes. Even going on what I’m sure is day three of not showering, she’s a stunner.

“Delilah?” she calls.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She blinks furiously. “I thought I was hallucinating,” she mutters. “Why are you dressed like a turtle?”

“Not a hallucination.” Just a Keith-induced waking nightmare. “Please tell me you have something in the break room for me to change into.”

“Uh.” She glances down at her legs, then at mine. Where Gianna is petite and waiflike, I have a size fourteen set of hips and curvy legs. She drags her eyes back to mine with a wince. “I think I have an extra shirt in there. From the station-sponsored marathon a couple years ago?”

“Did you run that marathon?”

“No, but I like free T-shirts.” She brings one of the mugs to her mouth and takes a loud slurp. “What’s going on? You weren’t dressed like that when I saw you this morning.”

“You didn’t see me this morning.”

Her forehead scrunches. “Yes, I did? We talked about the new happy hour spot you want to try. The one with the Tater Tots?”

“That was yesterday.”

Gianna blinks, surprised. “Really?”

I lean closer and sniff at her hair. She smells like the very bottom of a coffeepot. “When was the last time you showered?”

“Um . . .” She pauses, mentally calculating.

“And that answers my question.” I sigh. “Gianna, you need to take care of yourself.”

She lifts her shoulders and her two mugs with the same weak shrug. “I’m in the middle of this embezzlement thing and I want to get further along before I take a break.”