Page 54 of About the Green

Is it?

I get an opportunity to finally talk to her when she excuses herself to the bathroom. The restaurant is large enough that the hallway is far from the table she was sitting at, so I catch her right before she turns into the multi-stall room.

She jumps, but only slightly, placing a hand over her chest. “Jesus, Vert, what is your problem?”

“What is my problem?” I question, searching her face for any sort of brattiness that would give away that she’s joking. “What are you doin’ here with him?”

In the seclusion of the hall I can get a look at what she’s wearing. The long tight nature of the dress hides none of her curves from the imagination. My eyes pause over her side that I had covered with a bandage the last time it was exposed to me. It doesn’t look like she has anything on under that dress. Her pink hair is bone straight today, brushing over her shoulders and highlighting the wine color of this dress. She’s here using herself as bait with long lashes that blink curiously at me when I make it back up to her face.

“What I always do, which is getting rid of another disgusting man.”

“What do you mean, Nina? I thought we talked about this.” I reach for her, don’t know why, but she steps once away from me.

“We did, and I still think that I'm doing much better work than what the police could, or what they want to. My God, this man is absolutely the worst. I was on a dating app, as I'm liable to do, and matched with him. I had already seen comments from other women talking about how this dude was assaulting them. I can't let that stand, with one woman saying that she woke up knowing that he had already defiled her body.”

My twist more as she talks, “Woke up? Why was she asleep?”

She scoffs, placing a fist on the hip that wasn’t injured. “I don't care, actually. What reason would I need other than him doing something she never agreed to. I believe women, and I believe that I have a solution to help said women.”

“That's not enough reason for you to be doing this. We have an actual task—”

Her finger presses over my lips. “Oh yea, did I forget to mention that he is also the guy who we've been looking for. Remo Bailey.”

I stare at her for a while. How did she get blue hat? How did she— “You cannot kill him. We need answers.”

“I never said I was going to kill him.” Rolling her eyes, she adds an annoyed sound to her explanation. “I just said I was going to get rid of him, and I had a plan,” she sniffs. “I was going to call you after.”

“You were gonna call me after?” I droll, unhappy with that plan entirely. The last time I had her on the phone she was undoubtedly in the middle of or just finished offing someone.

“Well, yea.”

A woman rounds the corner to use the restroom and hurries past us to get there. Sometimes it’s difficult to believe how out in the open Nina is with her plans. In a low tone I ask, “What if I wasn't able to come?”

Seemingly bored, she leans against the wall. “Then why are you here to begin with? This is your only task, which is to find the person who is rallying people against the others in Lafayette, and to find out if there's more defectors other than just Geno.”

“So, what are we talkin’ about here?” She’s not wrong, but I still feel like I’m missing something.

“I'm doing my part of the job, which is to lure the man.”

“You didn't discuss it with me first.”

Her eyes narrow in that way when she’s going to say something bratty. “Discuss what? We aren’t partners, remember? What is there to talk about anyway? You're here now, aren't you?”

This time when I reach for her face, she’s not able to back away with the wall behind her. My hand sits comfortably at her hip, bringing her close. “Only because I wanted to make sure that you weren't in trouble.”

“Me?” She questions, true confusion playing over her face.

“Yea, you do realize that you're the size of a miniature toy you can get with a fast food meal? By some stretch of the imagination, you've managed to make it out alive in these circumstances. It's impressive, but luck don't last that long, sweetheart.”

She gets into my face, as best she can in her six-inch heels, to sneer, “It's not luck that got me here. It was all the preparation that I put into being here—the makeup, the clothes, the personality. The fucking research. Don’t pretend that you know how I operate. I mean, have you seen the photos I take for my profiles? Men don't even think I'm real.”

“And you're not, doll.” Despite her ire, I rub circles over her hip bone still under my hand. Her in my room is not this same woman in front of me. Maybe they are and I’m just missing a lot of the context but I can see how different they are. “You're not real. That person you show them is not real.”

“That person is me,” she intones, holding my gaze and getting closer. Our faces aren’t that far from each other and it makes me want to lean down to kiss her. My eyes flitting to her lips for just a moment. The glossy shine of them too enticing and I know that. Looking away is my best course of action in this moment.

“Fine,” I concede. “But people have many sides and the one that is most true for you is not this one.”

“Is this really the time to do this? He's going to think that I'm doing something in here that is not a part of being a super attractive, unattainable match that will do anything he wants…”