Page 24 of Start With A Slap

Heart pounding, she hung up and turned back to Jason. “Let’s do Pistolero.”

As he agreed, her phone rang again, and out of habit, she picked it up. “Lohmann Brooks?—”

“Simple question, love. Are you a good cook, yes or no?”

“No!” She threw the phone on its cradle like it was radioactive.

“What wasthat?” Jason asked.

“Nothing, it was...”Think, Ivy, think!“…Some jerk conducting a survey.”

Jason chuckled. “I never knew you felt so strongly about surveys.”

She laughed too. “He was really obnoxious!”

His cell phone chirped, and he looked at it. “Don’t worry, darlin’. If it’s Survey Guy, he’s goin’ down. Hello?” His smile fell away and the blood drained out of his face. “...Sever?”

Sever was callinghim? That could not be good.

“...Yeah. Um, thanks, it was...” he cleared his throat, “real thoughtful... of you.” He gave Ivy a bewildered shrug, then seemed thrown by the next question. “Well, we take turns, but Ivy’s much better at it.”

Hearing that, she had to wonder,Am I dreaming again?

Jason said, “She’s gourmet caliber when she wants to be.”

Oh, cooking. That made more sense. But why the sudden interest in her domestic skills? Didn’t he want her to ‘run wild’?

“Tonight?”

Tonight? Tonightwhat?

“I don’t think so, I’m real swamped here. Remember that big case I told you about? It’s ‘round the clock work—” Clearly, Sever cut him off. She watched as Jason’s expression went from cornered to resigned. “Yeah. Okay.”

Whatwas okay?

“Yeah. —Yes. Tonight at eight.”

Jason pressed his phone and stared at it. “He’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

She sat up in her chair. “To our apartment?” Why? Why would Sever do this to her? “Wait, whoa, did you just volunteer me to cook for him?”

“I don’t know; I think so. I’m sorry, I can’t think straight when he bulldozes me.”

You and me both.

“He said he wants to see the painting,” Jason said.

She almost wished she could run home and tear it down—but of course she wouldn’t. They had to uninstall a shelf of wedding photos to hang it on the wall—there was no other space for it. The irony was so guilt-inducing that she took down her favorite of her mother’s watercolors to relocate them. “...While I cook him a meal.”

“We can have it all ready before he gets there, and I can help. I’ll chop. I’ll dice,” he offered. “Whatever it takes.”

“Why do you want to do this?”

“Because he’s gonna get tired of us soon, and then he’s gonna move on.”

Right. His apparent M.O.

“I just have to give him what he wants,” Jason said. “I’ll act like it’s all water under the bridge.”

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