Page 8 of Double Apex

The screen lights up a third time. I grab it before she does, instigating a near wrestling match as she fights to get it back. I wing the phone away and she jabs my armpit.

“Oooh,” I purr. “So mysterious.”

“Knock it off!” She snatches the phone back. “What’s wrong with you? Are you thirty-two going on thirteen?”

The comment stings just enough. “Why are you being secretive?” I snap.

Her look is lofty. “Apparently you don’t understand the difference between secrecy andprivacy. Aren’t you supposed to be some big genius?”

“Wow, Nat.” I gulp more of my scotch, shaking my head. “Very nice.”

It’s familiar ground between us, but still a jarring ride. When she’s in a bad mood, she’ll mock my intellect, and I’ll mock her for being selfish or shallow. Fourteen years of friendship and we’re like an old married couple. Fortunately, I love her more often than I want to throttle her.

We stare each other down, trying to decide whether to go for blood or laugh it off. Behind her, I see Cosmin get up and walk away with Abby.

“Ardelean!” I call out, grateful for the distraction. “Where are you going?”

Oh, shit. Why do I care?

He turns, holding up one finger to indicate he’ll be rightback, and I shrug like it doesn’t matter anyway—just curious; nothing to see here.

I sip my drink, watching with conspicuous patience as Nat’s thumbs fly over the keyboard of her phone.

“Phae.” She puts a hand on my knee.

“Oh, shit.What?”

“Don’t get mad, but I’m gonna bail. Something’s come up.”

“What the hell?No.Not cool. Don’t you dare leave me here with that schmuck.”

She surveys the room. “It would appear the schmuck in question has left. You can go back upstairs and watch TV and order room service like you wanted.”

“I was planning to do that withyou,” I protest.

She stands. “If I don’t see you again before Bahrain in two weeks, we’ll definitely get together there. Hold still…” She pinches my cheeks to bring color into them. “You look so cute—like Emma Stone’s grumpy cousin. Weaponize it! Talk to other humans.” She gives me a side-hug before clicking away on her high heels.

After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to look blithe and confident as I sit alone with a drink, I throw back the last of my scotch and stand. I leave a cash tip for the bartender, then head for the elevators.

As I pass the hotel’s front doors, I happen to look out at the loading area. Cosmin is holding the back door open on a sedan with the Ola rideshare logo. Where the hell is he going?

He ushers Abby inside, then closes the door before passinga wad of cash through the front window to the female driver. He raises one hand at the car in a static wave as it pulls away.

Huh.

Normally I’d applaud someone gallantly arranging for a drunk woman’s cab ride home, but it was more satisfying to think of Ardelean as a shitbag.

As he turns, I take a stumbling step back, nearly falling on my ass.

He breezes through the automatic doors. “Waiting for me?”

“Hardly. I was going to my room.”

He’s wearing a suit that shouldn’t look good on anyone—jewel green with a peach open-necked shirt and no tie—and before I can stop myself, the scotch on my tongue has given him a compliment.

“Nice suit. Did you get it at the Riddler’s yard sale?”

Wait, no. Not a compliment. Remind me never to drink a double on an empty stomach.

---