Page 20 of Work with Me

“I knew.” Tyler raised his hand like we were in class.

“And my idea to give quarters to the guy with the best story totally backfired.” Kevin, who’d told us about the time he’d brought a pet goat to his mother’s mah jongg party, had taken his quarters to the Galaga console. I’d given an out to the most interesting person at the table, leaving the rest of us to our lame-ass, awkward conversation. Amit and Gary had left after one drink, and now we had a table full of cold, soggy appetizers.

“What do you think Alicia does on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Huh?” Tyler signaled for another beer.

“When she leaves early. Where does she go?”

“Dunno. I asked her, and she said she’d rather not talk about it. Maybe she’s a spy.”

“You think she’s working for Gurusoft?” Fuck, that’d be the worst, if we were paying a consultant to sell our secrets to the competition.

“Nah. I mean, like, for the government. Cloak and dagger shit.” Tyler took the beer from the server and winked at her.

“Alicia? I don’t think so.”

“Then what d’you think she does?” He took a long draw from his beer.

“I don’t know.” I’d thought about it. A lot. Too much. “Maybe she’s getting her master’s. Or doing volunteer work.”

“Or modeling. God, she’s pretty.”

I picked up a sad, mushy jalapeno popper and examined it. “Who, Alicia?” I’d meant for my voice to be light and unconcerned, but it came out as a growl.

Tyler blinked at me. “Sure. But I meant her.” He pointed toward the bar at one of the waitresses. Her hair was darker blond than Alicia’s, and her eyes were the color of honey. She looked a little like Marlee, though I’d never seen Marlee in short-shorts.

“She has a friend.” He pointed with his beer at another waitress standing at the well, this one dark-haired and curvy. “And she’s looking at you.”

I checked; she was. “I don’t pick up women in bars anymore.”

“Bad experience?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I’m going in.” He pushed himself up and wobbled for a second.

“You sure about that? Maybe have some water first.”

“Nah, I got this.” He lurched off toward the bar. After signaling our waitress for the check, I surveyed our collection of congealed fried items and empty glasses. What an utter failure. I should’ve known better than to try to bond with the team. I’d always worked best solo.

“She’s mine, asshole!” The loud voice at the bar caught my ear.

I glanced up in time to see a guy with a linebacker’s build—he had to be six-six—punch Tyler in the face.

8

ALICIA

Friday night,and I had a date for movie night.

I caught the first kernel of popcorn as it shot out of the air popper’s chute. When I tossed it into my mouth, it singed my tongue, dry and flavorless. I had to find something to spice it up.

“Alicia, what are you doing?”

I looked guiltily back over my shoulder, like I’d done when I was eight and Mom caught me hunting for Oreos. This time, I wasn’t standing on the counter, but I was leaning against it, the tiles digging into my stomach, hunting through the spice rack.

“Don’t we have any flavored salt? Or anything with salt in it?”

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