Page 61 of Sweet Animosity

It was a miracle none of them had figured out that was the name of the bitch from Mean Girls.

Not that I thought they would judge me.

Through my work as a forger, I’d actually helped lots of people.

My current project was not the first divorced woman I’d helped.

I’d also helped several Jewish families recover priceless, sentimental family heirlooms. Strictly speaking, my work helped these families commit grand larceny as they hired thieves on the dark web to steal the original and sub it out with my work, hoping the theft would never be discovered. But didn’t the ends justify the means?

The problem was that my work required discretion and the utmost secrecy.

Not things my friends were known for.

Plus, there was the potential for danger. As I was now learning all too well.

“I’m almost done with a big project and then things should calm down soon.”

Yup. All I needed to do was to outsmart the Russian Mafia, continue to hide my involvement in the disappearance of a hated dictator, and somehow convince a mysterious Russian retrieval specialist to take a half-assed, amateurish, rush job forgery of his employer’s Mona Lisa, instead of the five expertly crafted frauds I’d taken six months to paint.

Easy, breezy, fucking lemon squeezy.

Before a complete panic attack at my situation could take hold, I called out over the music, “I need a martini.”

Michelle stretched out her arm and gestured toward the bar. “The bar is three deep. It’s going to take forever. Here, puff on this.” She handed me a vape.

I scrunched my nose. “Is this the same stuff as last time? That got me super high.”

“That was Jenny Kush. This one is different,” she yelled into my ear, then giggled as she handed me her bright purple vape pen.

“Okay, but only a quick hit.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t drive, did you?”

“Hell, no, parking is impossible in this neighborhood.”

“Then who cares. You look tense. You’ve been working too hard. Have some fun!”

I coughed as the vape burned my lungs. I hated the coughing part. Probably why I didn’t smoke that often. And gummies were too unreliable. Sometimes I’d feel nothing. Then the next time I’d take the exact same style gummy and see dancing rainbow bears and singing teakettles.

I handed the pen back to her as I covered my mouth and coughed again. “Urgh. Only the one hit. I’ll stick to my martinis.”

Michelle threw her arms up in the air and laughed. “Oh, my God! I love this song! Hurry up. Let’s dance before you start to see bobble-head Martians.”

“What?”

She grabbed my hand and led me onto the dance floor, tossing over her shoulder, “The weed is called Alien Mint. They say it’s so out of this world, you’ll have full conversations with little green men.”

“Michelle, you suck,” I giggled as we made our way to the dance floor.

Fortunately, there were no little green men.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of annoying Neanderthals.

As I tried to dance with my girlfriends, one man after another sidled up behind me, bumping and grinding. So gross.

After brushing off yet another pair of sweaty hands on my hips, I gestured to Michelle and Stacey. “I’m getting a drink.”

They nodded and gave me a thumbs up.

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