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“Because my best friend isn’t Martinique.”
She has to work hard to act like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “Martinique wouldn’t say anything…”
It’s so unconvincing, I give her a long stare of shame while I shake my head. “Theo. Imether.”
“She would nev?—“
“Italkedto her. She told me everything about you in ten seconds. She’s the one who gave me your social security number; that wasn’t even from a background check.”
Theo stops trying to convince me and covers her face with her hand. She acts like she’s doing it because she’s annoyed, but I one hundred percent know it’s because she’s smiling.
“Look,” I say. “I get she’s your best friend. Personally, I find her delightful. But please, let’s not risk our time, money, and probably one-and-only chance at this deal on Martinique’s ability to keep her mouth shut.”
Theo sighs and drops her hand. “Fine.”
She’s agreeing, but I don’t like how defeated she looks. It’s pathetic. Her shoulders slump and her head hangs down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Out with it.”
She takes a breath then lets it out. “It sucks!”
“What?”
“Lying to her! I’m not going to call her up just to say things that aren’t true. Now we’re talking less and it’s weird, and that’s not fair! You can be normal with your dad, and I don’t have anybody to talk to about…stuff.”
“You can talk to me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not about everything.”
“Oh, I see what the problem is…you want to gossip about me.”
“Or vent.” Theo shoots me a scowl.
There is nothing less intimidating than Theo’s scowl. All it does is make me want to wrap my arms around her and kiss her on the nose, but that would not help our current situation. In fact, that would probably be the type of thing she’d vent to Martinique about:My fake boyfriend gives me condescending kisses when I’m frustrated with him.
“Why are you smiling?” she demands.
“I’m not smiling.”
“You know I’m looking right at your face?”
“Alright.” The grin breaks through. “You caught me.”
“What’s so goddamned funny?”
“You tell me—you’re smiling, too.”
“No, I’m not!” Theo cries though she absolutely is.
We’re both grinning like idiots, soap suds dripping down off our hands.
“Get it together,” I flick bubbles at her. “You’ll give the whole game away.”
She swats the dish towel into the bubbles, sending a big puff right into my face. “I’m the Mata Hari of secrets.”
