“That’s disappointing. I can’t lie.” She sighs. “Did you make one for your brother? If you say yes and he got a cupcake and I didn’t?—”
“No, Annabelle, I did not make him cupcakes. We aren’t exactly on good terms.”
“Yeah, since when was that exactly?”
“He threatened me.”
“When?”
“Years ago. From prison in a letter.”
“Aren’t the letters meant to be checked before sending?”
“I don’t know. But he’s upstairs, and apparently, the walls are thin.” I mouth the next part, “He spies,”then add, “So let’s change the conversation.”
“Okay,” she drags out the word. “So, this Lucky guy—pun intended.” She laughs, indicating that she made some kind of joke.
My face remains blank.
“Will he be there when we take these?” she asks with a mouth full of frosting as she devours it from the mixing bowl using just her fingers.
“Earth to Dollie. I asked if your friend will be there,” she says with a full mouth of frosting.
“No, he doesn’t start until six. So, I actually won’t see him.”
“What? That’s bullshit! Why aren’t we going tonight?”
“Because the cupcakes need to be there beforehand.”
“I’ll rephrase, why aren’t we going back tonight?”
“There’ll be a lot of people there, Annabelle. Maybe too many for me.”
“So,hang around with just one.” Annabelle talks in a way that makes me think her new teeth have clamped together.
“He will be there to work.”
“And I’m sure he’s entitled to a break.”
“It’ll be dark.” The last time I went to a club, my mind played tricks in the dark.
“There’ll be disco lights. Don’t you want to know who he is?”
“He’s a twenty-seven-year-old reader of classics called Lucky.”
“And he looks like? I mean, he could be hideous.”
“Annabelle!” I snap. “He won’t be.”
I don’t have a clear vision of Lucky in my head. I know he’s got dark hair. It’s wet but visible in the profile picture, which hides all his unique features.
“He could be. He could smell awful. And seeing as you’ve kinda phone-sexed him already, don’t you wanna know if you aroused a gremlin?”
“Shut up.” I toss a kitchen towel at her, and she catches it with one hand, totally expecting it.
“Only if you admit you’d like to see him in person,” she says with a full mouth, shoving in more frosting.
Am I ready to admit that maybe I would?
