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She shrugged as she placed another pinhole camera. "I don't know. What am I singing?"
"Well, if I knew I could tell you."
“I think it’s Cardi and Megan Thee Stallion. I get into phases. I’ll hear a song and it’ll stick for weeks. Then I move on. Why? Don't you ever hum?"
"I guess."
"What, the Spy knows songs?"
"What I know would surprise you."
"Enlighten me. What do you listen to in that manor house all by yourself? Oh wait, let me guess, jazz?"
My brows furrowed. "What do you mean? And why do you say it like that?"
Two of the three bugs were good, the other one needed a replacement.
"Not like cool jazz. Not Coltrain or something like that. I'm talking like muzak."
I coughed. "Jesus, way to insult a bloke."
"Saint insults your balls all the time."
"Well, Saint's a prick,” I said under my breath.
"But I suggest that you might listen to muzak, and you are offended by this?"
"Yes. I do listen to Coltrain, but also lots of soul. James Brown, Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin."
She lifted her brows. "Who knew? Wait, does this mean we're on our way to becoming besties? I always knew we would be. We have whole seasons of Love is Blind or Love Island to catch up on."
I could think of nothing worse… or better. I rolled my eyes. "No. And please, save the gossip for my sister."
"Are you sure? Because I have an earful I could tell you about my brother, Riley."
I shook my head. "Jesus Christ."
Despite my wishes, she prattled on as if I hadn’t said anything. "I think Riley is bisexual, but he's afraid to tell me. I don't even know why he'd be afraid to tell me, because why do I care? As long as he's happy. But it's almost like he's keeping it from me, which doesn't make any sense. Obviously, I'm not going to push him into it because he needs to do it in his own time, but I just want to scream from the rooftops, ‘I love you, no matter which way you come.’" And then she stopped and guffawed at herself. “See what I did there?”
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "Jesus fucking Christ, Tabs."
"Anyway, I think that's some residual shit from the last home we were in. They were hyper homophobic. I think I'm going to get him some therapy because I want him to be the truest, most authentic version of himself, you know?"
"Damn it, Tabs, we have two minutes. Please, shut the fuck up."
"Fine. I thought we were sharing here, but I guess not."
She planted the last one and I had to say, it was expert level. She put a tiny little pinhole in a plant. Smart. She moved quickly and then dusted the scraps into her hand. "No reason to let him think that there's any dust. We don't want him firing a cleaner over what we did."
We cleaned up after ourselves, double-checking the cellphone photo that I had taken when we walked in to make sure that we left everything exactly the way we’d found it. "Ready?"
She nodded. "Yep, ready Freddie."
"Jesus, are you always like this?"
She planted her hands on the cabinet right next to the door as the timer was winding down. "Yeah, I think we're—"
Suddenly, Tabatha was on her knees with her whole body shaking.
