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SLOANE
I took the preheated tongs in both hands, then carefully extracted the investment from the kiln. The metal flask itself glowed red-hot. Through the perfectly-spaced holes in the surface I could see the chalk-white plaster beneath, as I swung the whole thing over a barrel of water and dropped it in.
Hssssssssssssssssssss!
The dirty water churned and bubbled, like a witch’s cauldron. I always liked this part, especially since it was the penultimate moment. The final few seconds before you found out if your casting came out flawlessly or if you’d have to start all over again with another mold.
“You coming by again tonight?”
Mark’s voice startled me out of my happy little trance. He was definitely a sidler. The kind of guy who sidles up on people with an almost ninja-like efficiency.
“You keep sneaking up on people with hot tongs,” I advised him, “and you’re gonna get branded.”
He smiled, revealing surprisingly straight teeth considering his usual crooked smirk. “Ooohh!” he held his hands up dramatically.
“Just saying. It’s your funeral.”
I turned back to what I was doing, hoping that would be enough of a hint for him to go away. But Mark wasn’t one to take a hint.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
No asshole,I thought.I sure didn’t.
“What’s your question,” I sighed, knowing full well what he was about to ask.
“Are you coming by the foundry again tonight?” he repeated. “You know… after hours.”
I’d done my best to keep a low profile last week, on the several nights I’d used the place. I’d parked around back. I’d made sure I got there after the cleaning crew had left, and before the morning shifts arrived.
Still, he’d used the word ‘again’. And that worried me.
“I could help you know,” he said, repeating his offer. “The old man said you needed an assistant.”
“Thanks, but—”
“Actually he said yourequiredan assistant,” Mark said slyly. “Not that you brought one with you last week, but—”
I whirled on him, still holding the tongs. “Are you spying on me?”
There was anger in my voice, but also dismay. So much that he took a step back.
“No,” he protested. “I— I just assumed.”
“Don’t assume,” I snapped. “And don’t come by, either. Mr. Drumm gave me permission to use the place, so I’m using the place. And I’m not asking you for any help.”
Mark’s surprised expression slowly twisted into a look of indignation. Then anger.
“Fine,” he snarled. “I just thought—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Don’t think.”
I was being nasty — nastier than I’d been with anyone else who I’d ever worked with. But with Mark, it was the only thing that worked. Unless I somehow drove him off, he’d be here for the next twenty minutes posing the same questions over and over. And dropping passive-aggressive hints between each one.
“You’dbetterhave an assistant,” he said, as he finally backed away. “You’re supposed to have one, and—”
“Is that athreat?”
My voice was loud enough now that it drowned out the sound of some of the nearby machinery. Mark glanced left and right.
