Page 124 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
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“Work was painless today. For a change, a woman was the biggest asshole.” Celene spoke behind dark sunglasses, coming off just as much of an asshole in the West Village at six in the evening. Her eyes were raw from crying, though, and she had no desire to explain.
Since she herself didn’t know why.
Nadine occasionally shaded her own eyes in the dead of night, so she didn’t question it. She swigged from ice water, then her espresso martini. “I’m tempted to say, ‘good for her,’ but I’ve seen the demons who go to you for guidance.”
Celene’s consultation appointments had been remote today. Three sessions in a row with managerial types who’d gotten a slew of complaints in quarterly reviews. Stepping out to meet her friends should’ve uplifted her mood. Instead, she’d checked her reflection when she arrived at the coffee bar, blotting under her eyes.
From a similar martini, Celene plucked off a spiral of shaved chocolate and savored its richness. “She claimed—direct quote—‘My hires can easily be replaced in this hellscape economy.’”
Dante snorted, swiping through a dating app. His idea of mindless fun. “Could you give her my number?”
“I should. The stock of her company’s been tanking, so I’m sure she’ll have plenty of time for you very soon.”
“Damn. Ice cold.”
“It’s a requirement to handle these types.” Celene sniffed dryly, peering at a work group having an anniversary celebration. The party’s two booths in the corner weren’t sufficient for the twenty-plus crowd. They were crawling over each other. The ant comparison flooded her brain, because she couldn’t escape Goldfinch Lane.
Celene’s phone illuminated in the ambient dimness. Notifications from her friend in the pantsuit across her table, plucking at her croissant.
Nadine – 6:40 pm
That’s the fifth time you’ve sniffed.
You don’t have allergies and you don’t do cocaine.
Tell me what’s wrong.
Celene – 6:43 pm
I don’t know.
She flipped her phone downward after this, subject closed. It pained her not to have a name for her feelings. They left her uneasy, almost sick.
Nadine’s glare could cut glass. Nevertheless, she asked, “Meeting with your family this weekend, right?”
The uneasiness roiled harder. Celene flicked her gaze around for the bathroom door, in case this led to vomiting. “I am, on Sunday. Dad wants a firm answer about the deed.”
“Byron gave you a five-bedroom house and you haven’t accepted it yet?” Dante’s smirk wasn’t a fun one; it was perplexed. He scratched at his thin eyebrow. “You and I aren’t cut from the same cloth, Celene.”
“You’d keep it?”
“Nah, I wouldn’t live out in the sticks. I’d sell or rent it out.”
“It’s not thesticks.” Defensiveness weighed each word until they slanted, italicized. “Yielding’s endearing. Festivals, nice shopping options. Walkability could be improved, but the hiking makes up for it.”
Nadine licked her lips after another sip. “Well, aren’t you the spokeswoman for your cute little town?”
Celene shrugged, eyeing the foam on top of her martini. “Yes, so?”
“Celene, honey,” Nadine tried, tone losing its suspicion. She grasped Celene’s hand and gripped with perennially cold fingers. “You love it there, and that’s a good thing. I’m kind of empty without you around.”
Dante stole a tip of Nadine’s croissant. His laugh wasn’t mocking, thankfully. “She’s not lying. You’re all Nadine’s got.”
Not convincing in the least. Celene pointed between the two of them. “You have your sibling bond. Anyways, you’ll always have me, Nadine. Regardless of where I live.”
“I know,” Nadine concluded, her smile resigned. “I’m sure the jokes get repetitive. Sorry.”
