Page 48 of Story of My Life
“I’m not flirting. I’m appreciating his adorableness.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Well, I suppose it’s all on the same continuum. Harmless appreciation of adorableness on one end and ‘bet you can get me naked in the next thirty seconds’ on the other end.” Zoey looked at me and snorted. “You’re trying to figure out if you can work that into a book.”
“Maybe my heroine needs a friend with a robust sex life.”
She groaned. “Maybe your real-life best friend needs a robust sex life.”
A shadow fell across our table. I looked up to find a broad-shouldered white woman with a snub nose and tightly permed blond curls glaring down at us. Her muscular arms were crossed over her chest.
“You two make me sick,” she spat out.
I shrank back against the booth cushion as every eyeball in the restaurant turned in our direction. This was not how I’d pictured my first encounter with my new neighbors.
“Care to be more specific?” Zoey asked with feigned sweetness.
“Let’s start with murdering a bald eagle in cold blood,” the woman said.
There were a few grunts of agreement from neighboring tables.
“Maybe vehicular birdslaughter isn’t a crime where you come from, New York, but in Story Lake, it is,” she plowed on.
Zoey opened her mouth to speak, and judging from the fire in her eyes, whatever was about to come out had the potential to do permanent damage.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I said quickly. “Your eagle hit me in the head. With a fish. It was actually kind of funny.”
“There’s nothing funny about animal cruelty,” our accuser said primly. “Especially not to bald eagles. They used to be endangered, and we won’t stand for you re-endangering them on our watch.”
There were nods of agreement from the other diners that seemed to fuel our permed accuser.
Zoey climbed out of the booth and got to her feet, putting herself between me and the woman. “Thank you so much for your feedback. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re just trying to enjoy our dinner.”
“Murderers don’t get to enjoy their dinner,” the woman snapped, leaning down into Zoey’s face.
“Wait a minute,” I said, peeling off the top layer of thigh skin on the vinyl as I frantically scooted out of the booth. “You don’t really think we killed your eagle, do you? He was fine when we left. He flew away! He dropped the fish head!”
“That’s not what I heard,” the woman snarled. She loomed into my personal space like a disapproving gargoyle.
“I’d back the hell up if I were you,” Zoey warned her.
“Or what?”
The entire restaurant crackled with electric anticipation. I hoped I wasn’t about to get punched in the face.
“Maybe we should let the authorities handle this, Emilie?”
This suggestion came from a bear of a man. He towered above all of us. His face was covered in a bushy beard that came to a point over his barrel chest. He was wearing aStory Lake Ultimate Bingo ChampionT-shirt that strained at the seams.
“Shut up, Amos,” Emilie snarled.
“Yes, dear,” he said glumly.
“I’ve got your…oh, shit—” Wesley said, returning with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks that smelled like heaven.
“Their kind doesn’t deserve breadsticks,” Emilie said, taking the basket and upending it onto the floor.
I gasped along with most of the rest of the crowd.
