“Cut it out, Karen. You were a shit to her at lunch. And—”

“So was she!”

“This is beneath you,” I say in a low voice. “Making comments about her weight or appearance isn’t what I hired you to do. I know you are better than that.”

I want off this phone. I want to eat my lunch. Actually, I really want to see Delilah and tease her about the video. Yes, I’m a little bit childish when it comes to Delilah.

Karen sniffs, collecting her dignity. “All right. I concede; that wasn’t well done of me.”

I don’t say a thing.

“I don’t know why she irritates me,” Karen mutters.

But I do. Delilah sees right past people’s bullshit. Even if she doesn’t call a person on it, they somehow know she sees them. It chafes if the person doesn’t like who they are on the inside.

“She’s an acquired taste,” I say, reaching for my salad again.

“What’s going on with you two?” Karen asks, sharper now.

“Aside from being employee and employer?” I quip. “Nothing.”

“Defend the woman all you want, Macon, but she clearly isn’t a professional assistant.”

No, she really isn’t. “She’s a hell of a chef.”

“Macon,” Karen begins, then hesitates before rushing on. “Does she have something on you? Is that it?”

I start laughing again. Hard.

“This isn’t funny,” Karen says. “Something is not right between you two.”

Where to begin with that?

She takes on the tone of a worried mother. “If I need to handle this . . .”

“There’s nothing to handle,” I cut in. “I’m hanging up now. My salad is getting cold.”

“Salad is already cold!”

“So you see my problem. Bye, Karen.”

“What problem? Macon—”

It is far too satisfying hanging up on her. I’ve done it before. She’s hung up on me before as well; it’s the relationship we have. But this is the first time I’ve been irritated on behalf of someone else.

I text North again.

Don’t tell D that I know about the video.

North answers a few seconds later.

If I told her, I’d have to confess that I sent it. I don’t have a death wish.

Smart. She would definitely kill you.

Luckily, you piss her off more. Having seen her in action, I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.

Snorting, I hit play on the video again, and a smile erupts as Delilah’s terrible voice fills the kitchen. I find myself eyeing the front door, waiting for her.

Delilah

“So . . . ,” Macon drawls as he walks onto the upstairs balcony where I’m sitting, painting my toenails. “You had quite the day.”

I don’t look up from my work. One bad swipe of Cherry Sundae will show for miles. “What, did Karen call to complain?”