Nina regarded the other woman thoughtfully as she bent over her hand. Living in Los Angeles meant Nina—and everyone else—saw a lot of good-looking people. Beauty queens of every gender arrived to make their fame and fortune, and Angelenos developed an extremely warped sense of average. By Los Angeles standards Laura was pretty but not outstanding. Her features were even, her nose neither small enough for cute nor big enough for interesting, her mouth pleasant and often smiling. Her coloring was unusual: Her hair and skin were shades of caramel while her eyes were gray, her irises ringed with black. What was truly remarkable about her was a considerable physical presence, both in terms of height (Nina thought she had to be nearly six feet tall) and strength (her arms and shoulders were defined and muscular, her legs even more so). Admittedly, when Laura had burst into the bookstore office all tall, damp, and smoky, she’d startled the applesauce out of Nina, but now she could see Laura used her powers only for good. She wasn’t exactly . . . forthcoming about herself, but Nina could relate to that. She wasn’t a podcast of personal feelings herself.

“Alright,” said Laura, straightening up, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Nina flexed her hand. “I’ll be honest, that was amazing. I’m going to have to rethink massage completely.”

Laura frowned. “You don’t like massage?”

“No,” replied Nina, “too ticklish.”

Laura opened her mouth, but then closed it. If she herself won the lottery, she would 100 percent spend it all on massage, but to each his own. She got to her feet and brushed herself off. Clouds of cat hair tumbled and caught the light.

“Sorry about that,” said Nina, smiling ruefully, but Laura shook her head.

“I don’t mind. Fur is much easier to live with than feathers, which have an unfortunate tendency to stick into you when you least expect it.”

Nina opened her apartment door. “Thanks for joining our merry band,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “We’re going to pulverize the competition.”

Laura wished she shared Nina’s optimism. “Well, thanks for inviting me, and try to at least stretch your wrist and hand every day.” She walked carefully down the steps. “Your cat is on the gate again. Is he going to bite me?”

“Doubtful,” said Nina. “But he may give you venomous side-eye, it’s his specialty.”

Laura turned the corner toward the gate, disappearing from Nina’s view. Nina listened to Laura’s footsteps on the gravel, then a creak as the gate opened and closed. She could imagine Phil’s expression of concentration.

Laura’s voice floated back. “He hates me.”

Nina grinned. “He doesn’t. He takes his time to get to know people,” she called out. “Like me,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m the same way,” replied Laura, more distantly. “Maybe he and I will become friends eventually.”

Nina smiled and went inside.