Page 67 of Preferential Treatment

“Maybe,” Kate said uneasily. “How do you know him?”

“He came to the club, asked for me specifically, and then all he did was interrogate me about you all night long.”

“What?”

“Yeah. So, are you in trouble with the Oskolki, or what?”

“The Osko—the what?”

“The Russian mob.”

“No. Jesus. He’s… he’s an ex, basically.”

“Ahhh.” Angel chuckled. “Well, I didn’t tell him anything.”

Kate rubbed at her forehead.

“He was a real good fucking tipper, though. You sure you want to let that one go?”

Kate sighed. “I had no choice.”

“Married?”

“No. Just incapable of love, apparently.”

“Been there.”

A pause followed, and in that pause, Kate realized this was the first time in a long time she’d had a normal conversation with her sister. The urge to keep it going was a new one. Usually she was desperate to escape conversations with Angel.

“So, um, weird question—do you remember that spicy chicken casserole you used to make?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve been trying to make it, and it’s not turning out at all. Like, it’s literally inedible.”

Angel clicked her tongue, thinking. “Tell me what you did.”

Kate gave her the run-down of every step.

“That’s way too much cream of chicken soup. You just need one can. And cayenne and paprika aren’t interchangeable. If you’re using cayenne, then you have to use way less.”

“They’re both just ground-up peppers,” Kate said. She knew that was right—she’d looked it up.

“Yeah, but paprika is ground-up bell peppers which aren’t spicy at all. And cayenne is super hot little chilis.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid.

“And you have to cook down all the veggies until they’re soft before you add any of the other ingredients. Otherwise, they’ll be all hard and raw.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll text you the instructions,” Angel said with a small laugh.

“Thanks,” Kate said. Another lull followed, and she was oddly reluctant to let it stretch out too long. “So, you… you sound like you’re doing good.”

Angel laughed again, a soft, recriminating sound. “I don’t sound hopped up, you mean?”

“Or drunk,” Kate admitted.

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