Page 30 of Spiced!

“Good morning.”

He dook’d.

“I know I’m talking to the plant. I’m aware. Plants need love, too, you know.”

He dook’d again, longer this time.

“Unlike some in this household, Gerald is a good listener.”

He made the sound that meant he disagreed and found my position embarrassing, then went to investigate the cabinet under the sink, which he did every morning despite the fact that nothing in the cabinet ever changed.

I fed him, watered Gerald, drank my coffee, and finally opened the conversation.

Me: Save my booth for me, please. Tell Jacks I’ll take a whiskey neat.

I put my phone face down.

Then I picked it up.

Then I put it back down.

Puck returned from his cabinet audit carrying a dish sponge he had no business having.

“Where did you get that?”

He blinked at me as though I was an idiot, then his eyes squinted down at the sponge in his mouth, then he made a sound I assumed was a muffled dook of defiance and left with the sponge.

I let him go because I was choosing my battles—and also because my phone was buzzing.

Tasha Goldmire had been my best friend since our days at USF. In truth, she’s more of a sister than a friend. There’s nothing we don’t share, and for better or worse, she might be even more mischievous than Puck. Her quiet, reserved personality and dental lab coat often made people think she was an introvert’s introvert, but plant the idea of a prank in her head and she was as insane as those guys smashing melons on their heads on YouTube.

“Hey.”

“You texted someone last night,” Tasha said.

I frowned and stared down at my phone, then remembered Tasha had nothing to do with my phone, because she was a dentist in Westchase and not, as far as I knew, a law enforcement agency monitoring my messages. “How do you know that?”

“You have the voice.”

“I answered the phone and said exactly one word.”

“I’ve known you since before you were born. I was there. You weren’t. I know your tones. Your ‘hey’ has registers.” A pause. “Also, Alan texted me.”

“Alan doesn’t have your number.”

“Alan got my number four days after you and I became friends because Alan said, and I’m quoting, ‘Someone needs to be able to reach me when Brendan does something emotionally significant and refuses to report it.’ I thought it was funny, so I gave it to him.” Another pause. “He’s very charming for someone so annoying.”

I dropped onto a stool at the kitchen island and ran a hand through my bedhead. “There’s nothing to report.”

“You went back to the bar, didn’t you?”

“It’s a good bar. They have good fried thingies.”

“Fried thingies?” Her snort practically spat through the receiver. “You went back to the bar where the dancer is, didn’t you? You went to get your go-go on.”

“I don’t even know what that means. Besides, there are a number of people who work at Barbacks, Tasha, not just the dancer.”

“The dancer with the Speedo and the puppy who came to your clinic, that’s who you went to see. I bet you want to examine his python, didn’t you?”