Page 79 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

Her lack of comeback to my jokes isn’t a good sign. She’s giving me no signs at all.

Me: Naked it is. See you at noon.

Dots indicate an upcoming reply, likely an irate comment, warning me not to show up naked. All I get is a thumbs-up.

I squint harder at the exchange, trying to ascertain her headspace. I get absolutely nothing. Maggie has once again become impossible for me to read. I sip my tea, forcing the hot liquid down my throat. Maybe I should wear Desmond’s football gear to our lunch. Something thicker than skin and bone to protect my heart against whatever I’m about to face.

chapter twenty-seven

Hat and scarf on, I wait for Maggie outside town hall, decidedly not hungry for lunch. Awareness of an impending Maggie meeting usually has me caught in a mix of keyed-up excitement and anticipation. All I feel today is mildly nauseous.

Townsfolk hurry by, bundled up to their chins. I hunch to ward off the cold as a halo of permed curls walks toward me. There’s no other way to describe Sandra at this moment. Her scarf is tied so high around her face all I see is her tightly curled brown hair bobbing my way.

She stops in front of me and pulls down a sliver of her blue scarf, revealing her nose and mouth. “When you need my services, I’m good at sourcing information.”

“Okay,” I say, attempting to dissect her offer for clues. “Why, pray tell, might I need your information-sourcing services?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Her face disappears back behind her scarf, and she continues toward Main Street, leaving me leery. Sandra is ground zero for town gossip, but I have no idea what she knows.

With no clues to unravel her riddle, I resume my waiting. Maggie’s late coming down from work, which doesn’t help my agitation. I shift on my feet to keep warm. Any longer out here and I’ll need to start doing Zumba to avoid frostbite.

Attempting distraction, I check out the revamped decor on Main Street. The bloody skeletons and beet-smeared Halloween masks are down. Bouquets of evergreen cuttings are tied to the lampposts in their places, half of them adorned with bright holly berries, the others with large blue dreidels. I think back to some of my talks with Maggie and realize Chanukah is in ten days, which happens to fall on my birthday. Maybe we can plan a combined Chanukah and thirty-first birthday bash, if she doesn’t drop-kick our relationship to kingdom come.

“Lennon, hey.”

I look up. My former pal Mizhir is only a few steps from me, blinking as though he wasn’t looking where he was going. I certainly didn’t notice him, and seeing him right now ratchets up my discomfort.

“Heard your adventure camp’s doing well,” he says.

“Littlewing has been well received, thanks.” I force cheer into my tone, even though the question is a throwaway salutation. It’s not like the guy cares what I’m doing. “The adult portion, Bigwing, launches in the spring and should be great. Especially the nudist aspect. Makes wearing the harnesses for the ropes courses mighty interesting.”

He laughs. “I miss your jokes, man. You always cracked me up.”

If he misses my jokes so much, why didn’t he bother returning most of my calls after he left for college? Whatever. Time marches on, even if you’ve fallen out of line. “Always happy to amuse.”

His next laugh comes out awkward. “Yeah, well. Gotta run.” He opens his mouth again, as though to say something else, but he just waves weirdly and moves along.

I find myself scowling at his back. This brief interaction was no different from our others—surface chitchat, neither of us taking concrete steps to reconnect. A step I refuse to initiate. Not because I’m avoiding conflict. With our history, it’s his move to make.

A flash of red catches my eye, and my annoyance reverts to unease. Maggie is on her way over, hurrying through the chill. Normally I’d open my arms to my favorite fiery woman, draw her into a hug. Whisper filthy things in her ear. Unsure where we stand and what this lunch entails, I shove my hands into my pockets.

She stops a foot away. “Thanks for coming.”

I offer a stiff nod. “How was your morning?”

“Okay.” She tugs her coat tighter and peers at me more intently. “You okay?”

Heat pinches the back of my throat. The urge to tell her this morning was rough on me rises, but I swallow hard. “I’m fine.”

She stares at me a moment longer, a furrow denting her brow. “So, um. I kind of planned a thing.”

“A thing?”

She juts her chin toward my shoulder, motioning to something behind me. I turn and see a lone tent set up in the middle of the grassy square. So stuck in my head, I hadn’t noticed it. There’s no one hanging out in the square, because it’s a freeze-your-balls-off November day, but that looks like E’s blue two-person tent. “We’re camping in town with E?”

“He lent me his tent.” Her arms come around me from behind, and she fits herself against my back. “I didn’t handle this morning well. I wanted to make it up to you and planned a picnic lunch.”