Page 12 of Betting on the Best Friend
“The theme here is that these bets suck andyouwould be the dupe in this situation.”
“Nope, because I know there’s a bet, and I’m not making it. There are no dupes. I have to give every date real consideration because I don’t know what the girls are betting, and that’s so I won’t have a reason to throw it for or against any of them.” She wrinkles her nose. “That was pretty ingenious of them.”
“Feels like a Madi clause,” I say.
“Definitely. And I’m done talking about this, since I’m sure I’ll have a lot of reasons to complain about it soon. Let’s talk about you. Are you excited it’s Wednesday?”
I give her a confused look. “Why would I be?”
“Hot patron day,” she says.
I roll my eyes and go back to my bin. A girl—woman—came in two weeks ago to do some research on mineral rights, which happens to be my specialty. Or specialty adjacent. I’m into rocks. Climbing them. Collecting them. Whatever. I don’t apologize.
“You need to let it go,” I tell Ruby. “She was doing research.”
“Two weeks in a row on mineral rights? No. She came back last Wednesday because she was guessing it was your regular schedule. You watch, Hot Patron will come in again today with questions about rocks, and when she does, what are you going to give me?”
“An annoyed look.”
“Because I’m right?”
“No, because you always annoy me.” She knows she never annoys me.
“Fine, let’s bet.”
I shake my head. “You have a gambling problem. Leave me alone so I can do my job.”
She flounces to the door and pauses to toss her hair. The hair toss is for dramatic effect; the flounce is not. That’s just how Ruby moves, like it’s an effort to keep herself to a normal speed.
“I’m not leaving because you told me to. I’m leaving because I heard that someone put an inappropriate diorama in the book drop, and I want to see.”
I straighten. People leave the most bizarre stuff in the after-hours book return. “I want to see too.”
She darts out and pulls the door shut after her. No doubt she’s sprinting to get there first, never mind that she’s wearing high heels that look like the tap shoes in old musicals, except these are regular brown, not shiny, and no taps.
For the first time since hearing about her roommates’ plan, I feel like smiling for real as I speed out of the back room . . . until reality hits.
I’m chasing Ruby with no chance of catching her.
Please donotlet this be foreshadowing.
Chapter Five
Charlie
Ruby wins again.
A few minutes past 11:00 AM, Hot Patron—whose name is Sydney—approaches the main reference desk.
Ruby is weeding—identifying books to remove from circulation and send on to our next library sale. If I’m lucky, I can help Sydney before Ruby sees her. I don’t want to listen to her crow about it through lunch.
“Hey, Charlie,” Sydney says when she reaches the desk. It’s counter height, and she rests her hands on it, one settling on top of the other in front of her.
“Hey, Sydney. Back for more mineral rights?”
“I need to focus on the mechanics of mineral extraction for a while.” She brushes her strawberry-blonde hair out of her face. She’s pretty in a quiet way. Not a lot of makeup, but mascara accentuates her hazel eyes, and she’s got on some peach lip stuff. With her black trousers and off-white shirt, she comes off as simple but not basic. Kate Middleton vibes?
“Let me see what we’ve got,” I tell her. “Did you already check the shelves?”
