Page 17 of Double Deal


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“Yeah, well, she hates everybody,” I shrug, closing the salad container and wishing I had a few more minutes to finish it.

“No, seriously. That woman hates you. As in, specifically you. She hatesOpal. She may hate people? In general? But she hatesyoua whole lot.”

I look over at the place where Veronica turned the corner, seeing the image of her striding away. Hates me in particular?

“Irving just tried to get me on the trip, I guess,” I explain. “She didn’t want me to go. Whatever she feels… it’s not about me. It is between them.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go. She would probably try to feed you to the fishes.”

I roll my eyes. “All right, stop it. Maybe you be supportive.”

“They are acouple?That’s insane. Irving is hot!”

“And she is also hot, in case you didn’t notice. Hot is practically her brand identity. And scary. Hot and scary, trademarked.”

“Some people may think that is hot, but I don’t,” Tabby sniffs. “Not hot like you, Opal. Or like me. She is weird-scary.”

“People can hear you, Tabby.”

She shrugs and looks around, fluffing her orange ringlets defiantly with her fingertips.

“What do I care? I don’t work here. I don’t work anywhere.”

“Ugh, fine. Okay, thanks for lunch,” I shake my head.

She squints up at me, smiling and wrinkling her nose affectionately.

“Thanks for being so supportive!”

“Let me know how things work out as a street arrow.”

She raises a challenging brow. “I will be the best ever,” she sneers. “They will write songs about my spinning, my pointiness. Now off with you, wage slave, your master beckons!”

She is such a goofball, but I love her. Despite everything we have been through, we need each other. I don’t know how people make it through their lives without someone who knows them, inside and out. The world is a lonely enough place.

Chapter 8

IRVING

Opal arrives, breathless, at the edge of my space. She looks so off-kilter I can’t help but find it charming.

“Veronica told me to, um, you wanted me?”

I wave her closer. Yes, I have definitely seen this outfit recently. It fits her well, but it is in heavy rotation. Am I paying her enough?

But it’s lovely on her. The medium pink sets off the dark sheen of her hair perfectly. She looks like a garden rose. Delicate yet strong. Growing wild, practically. It’s sort of strange to compare her with Veronica, whose every edge is buffed to a homogenous sheen. Veronica must spend a lot of time inspecting herself.

This one is practically perfect, just the way she grew.

“We are flying out to the Keys in a few minutes. I’m going to need you to be on call for the rest of the day, is that all right?”

“On call?” she breathes in surprise. “Certainly. Sure. I’m happy to.”

I fix her in my gaze. “You have time?” I ask her, more sternly than I really feel. “Veronica came to look for you because you weren’t answering your texts.”

She blushes instantly, and I notice she actually has a light sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. They are practically invisible, except for right now, when she is pink with embarrassment.

“I was… having lunch.”

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