Page 17 of Crocodile Tears
“I wasn't scheming,” I countered—I definitely was. “I just had some questions for her.”
“What questions?” she asked, picking up a breadstick and angrily biting off the end. Leave it to Dove Lachlan to make eating lunch an act of aggression.
I took a sip of sparkling water from my Champagne flute. “Questions about my new charity.”
The masticated breadstick flew from her mouth onto the plate, and I looked around to see how many patrons had noticed. Two by my count. At least she didn’t inhale the chunk of food and make me have to Heimlich her in front of everyone. Although, a part of me thought that would make for a great headline.
“Your newwhat?”
“I’ve founded a new conservation charity,” I said warmly. “Feel free to congratulate me.”
“As of when?”
“As of yesterday.” My smile broadened. “It’s going to help fund breeding and reintroduction programs for critically endangered wildlife, starting with the Almadran skink.”
“I . . . you . . . what?” was all she could manage to say. I could see the cogs in her brain grinding together as she tried to catch up.
“We will be working with local charities and helping assist them in their conservation efforts through grants and funding. We’re trying to put the money in the areas that matter most and with established local organizations that know better than us what to do with said funds.”
“Wow.” She blinked, slowly nodding as she came back down to earth. “That's actually a good idea.”
“It was yours,” I replied. “I'm just trying to implement it, but I'll be honest, I would be terrible at running a nonprofit. I can barely run my own life.”
“No shit,” she said with a huff.
“Which is why I'm appointing an interim director until I can find a permanent one to run the charity.”
“Oh,” she mused with another approving nod. “That's also a good idea. I’m impressed.” She looked perplexed, as if shecouldn’t believe she’d just said that aloud. “What are you naming it?”
“Lucky Role Conservation Trust,” I said, and I was rewarded with a genuine smile from her. “I don’t know if you remember, but it was actually you that inspired the stage name?—”
“I remember,” she cut in, her face softening in a way I hadn’t seen since we’d been young.
I watched it in her eyes as she thought back to those days. We used to always joke that everything in our D&D campaign was the name of our future band. First, it had been Misty Step, then it had been Mage Hand, and when we’d realized that most people would have no clue what we were talking about, we’d decided on Lucky Role. So when I’d started my singing career, I’d adopted the pseudonym as an homage to those days.
She remembered.
The moment had been unimportant—just two tweens talking about gaming. I hadn’t expected Dove would’ve held onto the memories as tightly as I had.
I lifted my glass of wine, and, confused, Dove lifted hers and cheers-ed me.
“To Lucky Role Conservation Trust,” I said.
“To Lucky Role Conservation Trust,” she echoed, still not quite getting it. “Could you explain to me why it was imperative for you to tell me this over lunch?”
“I thought I'd treat my new interim director to a celebratory meal,” I replied, watching the realization dawn on her face. “Congratulations, Dove.”
I’d anticipated the fact that she'd completely release her glass and had already grabbed the stem before it crashed onto the pristine white linen. It made me look like I had supernatural reflexes, but really I just knew Dove Lachlan better than I knew myself.
“You've appointedmeas the interim director of your new charity?” she asked, her words slow as if dissecting each one.
I tipped a pretend hat to her. “That I did.”
“Without asking me.”
My smile tightened, but I was determined to remain aloof. “If I’d asked, you would've said no.”
“Deacon.”
