Page 23 of One Kill

I just stare at her instead of answering. Do people actually give out their medical history to complete strangers just to get their nails painted? “No.”

“Oh, good. Okay, so, have you ever had your…” her voice trails off as she carefully places her hands under mine and inspects my fingers and nails. “Nails done?” Sherlock here just figured out the answer to her own question.

“No.”

Next to me, Hallie has been answering the same questions, except she’s eager to give out her information. I guess when you have nothing to hide, the truth is easy to give.

“Well, there are few options here. Acrylic, gel, or a simple nail polish. Which would you prefer?” My head snaps to the side, my eyes narrowed on Hallie, who is grinning from one ear to the other.

“She’ll just have a regular polish. I’ll get the gel.” Hallie winks at me like she gets that this is a whole new ballgame for me and I’m not excited about it.

“What’s the difference between the three styles?” I don’t like choosing without knowing my options.

“Gel will last longer and overall look better.” Hallie shrugs like she’s an expert on this and she just gave me some free advice.

My head cocked to the side, I actually consider doing the same thing as my daughter, but I’m guessing there’s some kind of catch to it and I have zero patience for unnecessary tasks.

“It’s a little harder to take off but if you soak a ball of cotton in acetone, wrap it around your nails with aluminum foil after filing off the top-coat, and let it work its magic for thirty minutes, you’re golden.”

I arch a brow at my kid, making sure she reads my absolute disinterest in doing any of that shit she just mentioned.

There are a lot of assumptions in her explanation, like me owning acetone or cotton balls or fucking aluminum foil. I don’t cook and take-out doesn’t require any of that shit.

Hallie turns back to Sophie, a bright smile on her plump little lips like we’re sharing a private joke and mock-whispers. “Like I said, she’ll have the regular polish.”

I really like this kid. Murphy did a great fucking job, but I’m pretty sure she’s amazing regardless.

My biggest mistake was thinking Sophie was finished with her interrogations.

She was not.

“Would like your nails reshaped? Maybe elongated? I can sculpt them rounded, square, rounded-square—”

“You just said that.”

“No, it’s not totally the same thing. One is rounded, the other squared and the third option is a little of both.” I blink and I want to shoot myself in the head for even caring about her answer.

“Right.” She doesn’t stop there, though.

“Also, we have oval, stiletto, and coffin.” Did she just say…

“Coffin? As in the resting place for the dead?” What the fuck parallel dimension did I just walk into?

Sophie perks up and I hate to break it to her, but the only coffins I’m interested in are the ones that I burn to ashes when I need evidence gone.

“Yes! So they’re kind of like this…” she shows me her pointed nails, which should probably be classified as deadly weapons, before placing a wooden stick with one end flattened out right on the edge of her nail. “Except it’s clipped straight instead of pointy.” Ah, to be young and naïve.

“I’m guessing yours are stilettos?” Also a good replacement for a weapon. At my question, Sophie grins like I just gave her the fucking moon.

“Yes, exactly.”

“No, thank you.” See? I can be polite. “Just one question though… how do you do everyday activities with your nails?”

Sophie beams at my question, leaning in like she’s about to hand over the secrets of youth and good fortune.

“Jewels not tools.” She winks as she utters her words, the spark in her eyes the only clue that those words are supposed to mean something to me.

They absolutely do not.

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