“I thought about being a biology major in college,” the woman mused.
Opal would say the woman was flirting with her. Through all the noise of Kia and Mega Eats and food trucks and loggers and her bizarre marriage of convenience, Sullivan felt a little thrill of pleasure. Maybe after this whole thing with Kia was over, Sullivan would get back out there and find an outdoorsy woman who hated social media.
The woman stood up.
“You live around here?” she asked.
Sullivan nodded back toward her house.
“What’s your name?”
The womanwasflirting. And unlike Aubrey, this woman didn’t think owl pellets were, sin of sins,off-brand. No one was filming this. She didn’t have to arrange her face into perfect Instagrammability.
“I… um… Sullivan.”
She never used to feel shy flirting with someone. Kia used to tease that Sullivan could make any guy in their program fall in love with her, just by giving him shit about his filleting technique. Once Kia had said Sullivan had a great smile. She’d followed it up with,Do you have more teeth than other people or are they just whiter?because Kia couldn’t give Sullivan a compliment without throwing some friendly shade.
“Sullivan.” The woman rolled Sullivan’s name over her lips with satisfaction, like Sullivan was exactly who she’d been looking for.
Sullivan could get back to the woman she’d been, the woman with the white teeth.
“First or last name?” The woman looked like she was ticking something off on a mental list.
“Last, but no one calls me by my first name.”
“Which is?”
“Alice.”
“Alice.” The woman nodded. “Alice Gwenyth Sullivan.” She whipped an envelope out of her windbreaker and shoved it at Sullivan. “You’ve been served.”
chapter 12
Kia stared atthe caramelized kale chips as they scorched in grape-jelly barbecue sauce. She kept stirring as the smell of burnt sugar and cruciferous vegetable filled her RV. Classical music blasted through her earbuds: Jean Sibelius’s Symphony no. 2. Her father always played classical music on theSerendipity. The music usually calmed her. Symphony no. 2 reminded her of Sullivan: strong and certain. But Sullivan wasn’t impenetrable, and thinking about Sullivan wasn’t calming, because on the table lay a manila envelope full of incomprehensible papers.
It had happened so fast, like everything had the last few weeks. Kia had been cooking at Portland’s Cruciferous Carnival. Then a fan was asking if she was Kiana Renee Jackson. The man actually took a selfie with her before handing her the papers.You’ve been served.Mega Eats was suing to stop the land deal and questioning the validity of their marriage.
Now she was stress cooking. She’d tried taking some pictures with her old digital camera, but putting her naked, unfiltered self on a memory card had done nothing to stop her panicking.
“I am me.” Right now, she’d rather not be. “I am real.” Ditto. Today, it’d be better to be an avatar.
If only she could turn back the clock, to not press start on the live feed that brought Mega Eats’ ravenous boars snarling at her front door. Hers and Sullivan’s. Kia tried to focus on the candied kale and not on how much of Sullivan’s life she was destroying. She poured more sauce on the kale. Maybe she could stuff it in yeast dough. Add cheese. A cruciferous Hot Pocket. She stuffed the cabbage into her food processor and reduced it to shreds.
She couldn’t call Gretchen. Gretchen was at an important site visit and off her phone. Kia could call Aunt Eleanor and ask for help, but she couldn’t face Eleanor. She couldn’t even face Lillian. She thought she’d fucked up before. She’d almost lost the deal. She’d messed up Sullivan’s life. But this was so much worse.
Kia leaned on her elbows on the counter. She’d felt a blaze of excitement when Sullivan handed her the marshmallow coffee. That was gone now. Sullivan hadn’t wanted anything to do with her before this. What happened when you got sued? She couldn’t go to jail, could she? The papers said something about fraud. She returned to the stove and stirred frantically as though stirring could salvage the kale… or her life.
Reaching for salt in the built-in spice rack, she noticed a person walking toward Old Girl, head down in the rain. Kia peered out the window to get a better look. The strides, even and deliberate, were familiar. They neared. She’d seen that posture too many times not to know it was Sullivan. But what had happened to her? Gone was her 1920s retro style. She looked like a bushwhacker, dressed in dirty overalls, complete with knee pads and a sheath around her waist. She looked ambush-ready. When she looked up, she had fire in her eyes, a scowl anchoring her face, and a manila envelope in her hand.
Of course, Mega Eats had served Sullivan too. Kia wanted to hide, but it was too late. Sullivan locked eyes with her, standingin front of the large kitchen window. Kia wanted to close her eyes and make it all go away, but she could feel Sullivan’s hot impatience through Old Girl’s sheet metal.
Kia went to the front door and hesitated. She didn’t have to open it. If she stayed in Old Girl for the rest of her life, she’d be safe. Wasn’t there some law like that? Maybe it was churches? Or maybe that protected you against vampires.
“I know you’re in there,” Sullivan said.
Kia unlocked the door and quickly stepped back to her stove.
Sullivan waved the envelope in Kia’s direction. “Did you know?”
