Page 33 of One For my Enemy

Then she vanished in place, leaving only a berry-red imprint on the lip of her empty glass.

II. 15

(Closing Time.)

“So, Eric’s still giving you a hard time, is he?”

“Yes,” Sasha exhaled grumpily, adjusting one of the displays. “Check that tester,” she instructed, gesturing to it, and Lev turned. “Does it need a refill?”

He squeezed a pump of hand cream into his palm. “Yes,” he determined, rubbing it in and sniffing it. “Smells like flowers,” he remarked.

“Yes, that’s sort of the idea,” Sasha said, observing with amusement as Lev sneezed. “It’s supposed to smell like spring. There’s a summer one,” she added, pointing to it, “and a winter one, obviously, and autumn.”

“Clever,” he said, pausing to rub the lotion into his knuckles. “And people buy these?”

Sasha lifted a brow. “You tell me,” she said pointing to the near-empty display, and Lev gave her a sly, boyish grin.

“The store must make a lot of money, then.”

Sasha shrugged, nudging him towards one of the boxes that had yet to be unloaded. “Sort of. I mean, it does well, but with all that goes into it, I think it could make more,” she clarified, catching his look of curiosity at her ambiguous response. “I keep trying to convince my mother to set up some sort of online sales platform, but she’s not interested. I think she prefers having a brick-and-mortar business.”

“Well, fair enough,” Lev commented, sounding as if he were waiting for something. Sasha straightened, adjusting her hair.

“What?” she asked, and he chuckled.

“I just sort of wondered what makes a bunch of witches decide to invest in a skincare line,” he said. “Seems like aiming a little small, doesn’t it? Considering the scope of magic you presumably possess, which seems… not inconsiderable.”

He seemed to be getting at something; something specific, in fact, and Sasha kept her response light and disinterested. “So?”

“So,” he echoed, “I guess I just wondered if you did anything… else,” he finished evasively, and she arched a brow.

“Are you asking if we do anything illegal?”

He shrugged. “Just seems like a possibility.”

“Well,” Sasha posed carefully, turning back to the box of hand creams, “if we were involved in some sort of witchy black market with more value than a skincare line, do you really think I’d be at NYU trying tobuildsaid skincare line?”

“I never said you made any sense,” Lev reminded her, and Sasha stifled a laugh, glancing at her watch.

“Alright, it’s closing time,” she told him, lamenting it slightly. “Get gone, Lev.”

He looked disappointed, though she couldn’t decide how she felt about his opposition.

Did she want him to go? Maybe.

Did she want him towantto go? Certainly not.

“Well, what if,” Lev posed, sliding closer to her, “I stayed? Just an idea.”

Sasha suppressed a small rising of triumph in her chest. “I have inventory to do,” she informed him, gesturing to the boxes and her checklist, “and besides, I have doubts about your retailing abilities. You were already fairly unhelpful with the last customer.”

“What? I told her the glittery stuff looked nice,” Lev protested.

“Yes, but it clearly didn’t,” Sasha said, rolling her eyes. “Customers like compliments, but they don’t love lies.”

“Well, then give me another chance. Please,” he added, gratuitously leaning towards her. Once again, his lips were disturbingly present, the shape and promise of them resuming their starring role in what was increasingly becoming a nightmare for her restraint. “It’ll be fun.”

She hesitated, opting to use her moment of (hopefully temporary) instability to wobble over to the sign, flipping it. The side that saidClosednow faced the street, leaving the side that saidOpento rest carefully against the glass like an unsubtle wink.

---