Luther scowls. “Really. Now, unless you know how to make a killer Bloody Mary, I’m busy.”

At least the Bloody Mary reference is an easy one to translate. Kill someone. He wants to know if I can kill someone. And I’m not proud of myself for my desperation or the next words that leave my mouth.

“Oh yeah. Bloody Marys. Do those all the time.”

Luther stares at me. “What are the ingredients?”

Seems bold talking about it here, but if that’s what he wants. “Well, a gun, obviously. Bullets. Umm … should probably take a protein bar or something in case it takes a while⁠—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“A Bloody Mary!” I throw in a wink he can’t miss to make sure that he knows that I know we’re on the same page.

“I’m going to need you to stop talking.”

A spike of excitement hits me. “I have the job?”

“No.”

That chink in my positivity takes another hit. “Please. I fucking need this.”

“Take your Coke and stop bothering me.”

I snatch up my drink and take a sip, all that cold sugar helping flood the shitty feelings from me. It doesn’t last long though. I’d left this as a backup, thinking for sure that it would be an easy win. Do I want to rob or kill people for money? Not specifically, but I wouldn’t be the first person to do it, and I don’t have the luxury of morals while needing to make rent. Besides, I’m sure there are worse ways to earn a living, even if I can’t quite think of any right now.

My friends are sitting around a bar table across the room, so I take my drink and make my dejected way over there. I wonder if I just show up and start cleaning the bar, whether Luther will kick me out or feel enough pity to pay me for the work.

I’m not above pity jobs.

I’ll take literally anything.

Arlie catches sight of me first. She’s my shadow queen, the future love of my life, and the woman I would do anything for. Mostly because I’m too terrified to say no, but, you know, incentive.

“I heard it was Carson Alexander,” Everett says, but Arlie whacks him and flicks her eyes my way.

“Hey, besties,” I say, pretending like I heard nothing of their top-secret bad-guy convo. I pull up a stool between Tommy and Everett, directly across from Arlie.

She stares me down. “I thought we told you not to talk to us.”

“That’s a rude greeting, considering I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I’ve been away.”

I do a quick check around our table to make sure no one is listening in, not that it matters in a place like this. “For work?”