Page 2 of Nix and Tell

“Hi Chlo!” Her voice is chirpy, words like trills of a songbird. It should annoy me. In anyone else itwouldannoy me, but in Violet…

“Vi.”

She bounds over to me, the hem of her short black skirt flying up in a way that I studiously avoid looking at. But looking upwards doesn’t help much, not with her tits framed between sheer lace and a double belt that’s almost a harness. I can feel my face flush, and I reach out and ruffle her hair.

I’m awkward. Clumsy. The furthest thing from suave that I could ever be, and it never fazes her; she just grins up at me and shakes her blond hair back into some sense of order.

“Finn’s hosting this evening; you coming?”

“I’ll be there.”

She looks at the clock pointedly, and she has a point, we were supposed to be at the bakery by six.

I grab my suit jacket–got to be repping the brand–and open the door for her.

Beaming, Violet floats through, and turns right towards Knead Cake?

I take a breath, send a petition up to Trisantona for the recovery of my composure, and follow.

2

Violet

Ishouldn’t tease her.

It’s been a year since I opened Spellbound, the shop directly next to Chlo’s queer tailors, and she’s as awkward around me now as she was that very first day. And I still can’t help teasing her.

It helps that I don’t think she realises that I’m doing it. I’m fairly certain that she sees me as some kind of bubbly innocent, and so my machinations always pass her by.

She looks hot tonight, though she always looks hot. Impeccably dressed in a bespoke tailored suit, with braces, a tie and a blazer that makes me wish that I could pull off a suit like that.

It’s not that I’m too curvy for a suit, just that I’m too curvy for a suit off the rack, and too broke to have one tailored for me. Besides, I think I rock my little goth girl style. Black boots, short black dresses with entirely too much leather and lace for a respectable woman in her thirties. Perfect for me.

It’s not exactly a long walk to Finn’s bakery, considering all the shops are housed in the same building. It was a mill at some point, or so Hazel said once, and now it’s split up into a quartet of equally niche businesses. Chlo’s queer tailors; Finn’s vegan bakery; Hazel’s art studio; and my beloved Spellbound.

The bakery is warm and smells amazing as we walk in. Finn’s laid out a selection of baked goods for us, and I dive for them, mumbling greetings around a mouthful of flaky pastry.

Hazel’s there already, tucked into the smallest corner she possibly can, her eyes devouring the food the way my mouth is. Finn puts a doughnut on a plate and places it in front of her without a word. She peeks up, nods her thanks, and then takes a bite.

I’m still standing, hopping from foot to foot as I eat, humming in pleasure and doing my little happy food dance. The three of them are used to me by now, and no one makes a snarky comment, or tells me to shut up. Food stims are the best stims and I’m so glad that I don’t have to mask after a full day in the shop. Customers are great, especially when they ask questions and buy things so I can pay my rent, but it’s also exhausting to beon.

A chair is pulled out by the table, and a shoulder gently nudges me towards it. Sitting down, I grin at helpful Chlo, whose face is completely blank.

How does she do it? I’m always impressed that no matter what happens, those stoic looks are forever on her face. The only way I can tell that I’ve thrown her is when she ruffles my hair. I close my eyes for a second. I now the others will think it’s because of the food, but it’s not. It’s because I’m remembering the touch of her fingers, accidentally grazing my cheek as she pulls back from messing with my hair.

“So,” says Finn, and my eyes fly open. That’s a clear ‘I’m starting the meeting now’ voice. “Winter business hasn’t beentoo bad, but I was thinking that we should really do a social media push this spring. The Spring Equinox is three weeks away–on a Saturday, no less–and I think it’d be the perfect opportunity to maybe make a day of it. ‘A Day At Riverside’, or something.”

“Works for me,” I say. “I could open up my equinox ritual to outsiders; do it on the riverbank during the day.”

“Yes,” said Finn, warming to the idea. “I can sell themed spring vegetable tartlets, and lemon cakes, and we could speak to Kit about the pub having mead-based cocktails on the menu.”

Chlo and Hazel looked at each other at the mention of Kit’s name. “I’m not really sure…” began Hazel hesitantly. “Kit’s quite private.”

“She’ll come if Marla comes.” Finn seemed certain.

The other two didn’t exactly disagree, but neither of them looked convinced.

“I can do a live painting of the river,” suggested Hazel. “And maybe people might be interested in ordering prints?”

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