Page 79 of The Love Destroyers

Not for the first time, it occurs to me that karma might have skipped over Jeffrey Nichols and decided to give me a hug. Old friends, reunited.

That’s what I’m thinking as I’m sitting in the emergency room again—this time because Sophie insisted. She works at Buchanan Brewery, it turns out, and on Friday, her boss’s day off, she’s the taproom manager. She’s sitting across from me, worrying her hands, one of them in a wrist guard from her own recent injury. Otis is sitting next to her with his head in his hands, reminding me of a dog who just pissed on the carpet and got caught. Ellie isn’t here, because she got called into the hotel because some pervert was poking around in her room. For half a second, I worried it was Emma, but then they described Jeffrey—something I overheard since she put the call on speaker for the entire emergency room to enjoy.

Most people would probably take it as bad news to hear someone had been sniffing their underwear, but she looked practically orgasmic. Then again, she’d been trying to pull him in, and she’d gotten her middle-aged fish.

Otis looks up, his eyes like a sad hound’s. “She had me under a spell. That’s really what it felt like.”

Sophie sighs and pats his hand. “Aunt Penny would say it’s because of Leap Day. All kinds of strange things have been happening all day.”

“Like that skunk wandering into the tap room?” he asks.

“No, that was from the petting zoo you allowed that woman to set up in the backyard,” she says. “There were goats, too, and they chewed up the owners’ new evergreens. Just remember how lucky you are Mr. James caught Ms. Reed. If he hadn’t…”

Otis gulps and seems to sweat on command. “Am I going to get fired?”

Sophie heaves a tired sigh. “That’s not my decision. But we did have to close early for the night for a deep cleaning because of the skunk. And there’s no denying you brought two visitors on an unsanctioned tour and let Ellie climb the ladder. Of course, it happened on my managerial day, so it’s not looking great for me either.”

He gives her that dog-who-piddled-on-the-carpet look. “I just don’t know how to say no to powerful women,” he says. “It’s impossible.”

Sophie’s mouth edges to one side, and I can tell she’s preparing to step in and comfort the kid who might have just gotten her fired. She’s a soft touch. She reminds me of my mother, who grew plants and talked about world peace—all while her brother-in-law made a fortune off other people’s vices.I like Sophie, but I can tell the world’s going to keep being bad to her unless she toughens up.

“No is a one-syllable word,” I tell the kid. “And it sounds the same no matter who you tell it to.” I pause, reaching up to touch the mask gathered at my forehead, and laugh at myself. “Then again, I’m sitting here wearing a ski mask because she wanted to be on camera with a masked man. I guess sheispretty hard to say no to.”

I think, for the fiftieth time, about how badly my brother is going to freak out when he finds out my face was on camera in a livestream viewed by fifty thousand people, several of whom probably recorded it.

He doesn’t know yet, but I suppose I’ll have to tell him.

And I’ll have to explain why it’s not as big of a problem as he’ll worry it is…

Otis rubs his head.

“Why don’t you get us some drinks?” Sophie says with an encouraging smile. “That would be super helpful.”

“He never got to try the Hair of Hops beer,” Otis says contemplatively, straightening up. “You think they’d have it in the cafeteria?”

Otis isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer—and from Sophie’s split-second facial response, it’s obvious she knows it, but she just nods politely and says, “Maybe, but they wouldn’t sell alcohol to someone who’s not twenty-one, and let’s stick to non-alcoholic in case they give him some pain medication. How about a soda?”

He swings his head toward me. “Would you like a soda?”

“Yeah, pal,” I say. “That’d really be something.”

He gets up and takes off, Sophie watching him with a concerned look on her face.

“The kid already got shit-canned, didn’t he?” I ask, because it’s there on her face.

Sighing, she nods, her gaze following Otis as he tries to go down the wrong hallway, is redirected, and then nearly walks into a pillar while staring down at his phone. “I’ll help him find a job somewhere else if they won’t take him back.”

“Why?” I ask, feeling like there’s no point in being indirect. “He’s an idiot.”

She gives me a censorious look. “That’s not very nice. It’s not his fault he’s a poor judge of character. If I were a poor judge of character, I’d want other people to go easy on me.”

But they probably wouldn’t. Because she’s a nice person—the kind who gets walked over six times ’til Sunday. I’m guessing it’s already happened.

“Besides,” she adds with a sigh. “He’s my cousin. My great aunt takes care of him. She’s sick, and she already has too much to worry about. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about.”

“You got him the job at the brewery, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

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