Page 68 of Witch You Would
Emelia snorted. “Lawyer ninjas? Mira que tu hablas mierda. FYI, remember how you forwarded all your calls to me?”
“Yeah?”
“You have gotten so many spam calls! Is that normal? Why do they think you have a car warranty that’s going to expire?”
“I don’t know! Oh my god, and the ones that are like, ‘the IRS is coming for your sooooul’?”
“As if you have any money to give them. Especially now.”
Speaking of which... “Did Cari find the store keys and take them back?”
Emelia made the humming noise that meant she was stalling. “She found them, but don’t get mad.”
Oh no. “What happened?”
“Your old-lady neighbor saw her using her lock-gun thing on the door to open it? And she threw like five chancletas at Cariand threatened her with a broom.”
Great. “Did my landlady call or text or anything?”
“Nope. But Cari says you owe her for chancla-related emotional distress.”
“Whatever she wants,” I said, rubbing my face. “What did Ofelia say when she dropped the keys off?”
“Something like, ‘She couldn’t bring them herself?’ And then Cari said, ‘What part of ‘she’s in another state’ didn’t youunderstand, vieja podrida?’ And then Ofelia threatened to call the police, so she vamoosed.”
I’d probably never get my last paycheck. Awesome.
“I can hear you catastrophizing. Para. If you can’t talk about the show, what can you tell me about?”
I jumped out of bed and started pacing, because I sort of had to talk about the show. But I had to be careful about it.
“I can’t tell you who my partner is,” I said. “But... ah! So like... the thing is... How do I say this...”
“Just say it. I wish I could hit you like a stuck vending machine.”
I took a deep breath, then spoke quickly. “My partner is really sweet and hot and I’m sort of hooking up with him?”
Emelia groaned loudly and with maximum vocal fry. I held the phone away from my ear until she stopped.
“Who is he?” she asked. “No, you can’t tell me. What happened? Make-outs, obviously. Is it serious? It can’t be serious; it’sonly been a few days.”
“Can I talk, or are you just going to answer your own questions?”
“Go. Talk. Proceed.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
I proceeded, leaving out any details that might let her figure out who Leandro was. I didn’t think she watched his videos, but I might have mentioned him at some point, or forwarded something Rosysent me. I said nothing about his mustache, or his glasses, or his tacky shirts, and everything about how he was cute, and funny, and sweet, except when he was frustrating. I also mentioned the fake flirting, since it seemed both relevant and highly telenovela.
“What about your pen pal crush?” Emelia asked.
“Gil.” Big sigh. I dropped into the desk chair and banged my head on the table. “If you had asked me that”—I counted off onmy fingers—“five days ago, I would have said he was the only guy I was interested in. But now?”
“Now what?”
“I keep thinking, I’ve never met him. We haven’t talked on the phone. He doesn’t even know my name! All we ever did was emaileach other. Why did that turn me into such a simp?”
“Weren’t they pretty personal emails? Flirty, even?”
