Page 24 of Player For Hire

“What are you doing sitting in the dark, you weirdo?”

I blinked away from the low glow of my screen. I hadn’t even heard her come in. “What?”

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” She dropped her bag and coat on the couch, then turned on the lamp.

“I didn’t realize it was dark.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Wine without me too? You aren’t job posting in the dark, are you?”

“Um, no.” I started to close the laptop and she crossed to me.

“Let me see.”

“Iona, I wasn’t—” I sighed.

“Oh, that’s not a job site.” She turned the screen toward her. “Not at all. It’s your book!” Her amber eyes glowed out from her smoky eye makeup. She pulled me into her. “It’s your book!”

My face was smashed into her very fragrant décolletage. “Iona!”

“Sorry.” But she hugged me again. “I’m so happy.” She released me and hurried around the kitchen island to the fridge. “This deserves more wine.” She dug into the fridge and I heard the clink of bottles. “And now I know why you were drinking early.” She leaned back out. “Stay with white?”

“Do you have any rosé?”

“Can do.” She pulled a bottle out and bumped the door closed. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had. I thought I was just stopping over to a popup in Rochester and Frankie made a surprise visit. Dumped about fifteen dresses on me to sell for her fall line. I haven’t had even a breath of summer yet and I have to think about wool blends. The only thing that sucks about my job is rushing through seasons.”

I swiveled the laptop back to me and hit save then closed the cover.

“Don’t think I forgot what I was reading,” she said over the whir of the electric bottle opener.

I winced. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” She shrugged out of her short jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch that sectioned off the living room from the postage stamp dining room then set a fresh glass in front of me. “I’m starving. I was going to stop for food but it’s freaking Friday and everywhere was jammed.”

I rubbed my stomach, suddenly realizing I was just as hungry. “What time is it?” I didn’t even know where my phone was. Still in my bag?

“It’s eight.”

“Eight?” Horrified, I stood up and realized my bladder also was making a showing. “I’ll be right back.” I rushed to the bathroom then made a pit-stop in my room to throw on comfy clothes. I was pretty sure the creases of my jeans were now embedded into my skin.

I’d been at it for at least six hours straight, maybe more. I quickly tossed down some ibuprofen to combat the wine and splashed some water over my face. By the time I returned, my laptop was open again and Iona was reading with her wine.

“Hey!”

She looked up, her face unrepentant. “You left it.”

“I closed it.”

She shrugged. “This is good. Like really good. I’d pay for it.”

My stomach flipped and nerves jittered along with the rumbles of hunger. “Stop it. You’re just saying that because you want me to write.”

“No, I’m saying it as a reader. You know I inhale tons of books on my Kindle. I fell down the rabbit hole with all the super sexy reads that are out there.” She went into the kitchen and opened the slim pantry cabinet. “How does mac and cheese sound to you?”

“I could go for that.”

“I always have—aha, here it is.” She rooted through a cabinet and then shook the blue box of our college days’ diet. “Never lets me down. Now the question is if my milk is in date.”

I went to the fridge to check. “I think we’re good. Even have butter. Look at you adulting.”