Page 49 of The Seven Year Slip

Not unlike my relationships, I realized.

“Clem?” Fiona repeated. “Earth toClementine!” She waved her hand in front of my phone.

I quickly slammed it, facedown, on the table. “I’m not looking at nothing!”

Drew said, “Well, that’s suspicious.”

“Answering a question we didn’t askandbad grammar?” Juliette added, sounding a little dubious. “That seems odd.”

Fiona agreed, “She’s never been good at lying. Gimme that!”

I squawked in protest as Fiona snagged my phone, put in my passcode (since when did she know my passcode?), and gasped as his Instagram came up. I buried my face in my hands.

“Clementine!Do you have acrush?” Fiona asked slyly, and showed the rest of the table my phone, as if the sudden revelation wasscandalous.

I immediately popped my head up, startled. “No! Absolutely not! I like my job!” I added, as if I didn’t already soundmortified. “I just...” I pressed my hands against the sides of my neck, knowing I was turning every shade of red imaginable, and all of my friends looked at me expectantly, because I wasn’t one to go stalking anyone’s Instagram pages. Ever.

Fiona shook her head. “Clementineneverhas a crush,” she said, and Drew nodded sagely.

“She must be sick,” Drew agreed.

“Oh, what a lovely crush!” Juliette added. “Wait—is that that chef?”

I wanted to die. I couldn’t just tell them that I was trying to figure out how someone who wrote such a lovely article inEatercould give us such a cold proposal, and I didn’t want to undermine Drew and her acquisition. My job was to back her up, so whatever feelings or reservations I had came second to being on her team. So, I ended up with, “Fine. You’re right. He’s really hot. I hope we get him.”

Juliette seemed intrigued. “Oh! Everyone was talking in the kitchen at work about this guy. Something about a weird acquisition process?”

“It’s a bit ridiculous, but we’re going to play,” Drew replied, and ate a chunk of cheddar off the bone-shaped charcuterie board. “Can’t afford not to at this point. I’m sure the book will land in the right hands.”

“Preferably yours,” Fiona said, and took her wife’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “We’re rooting for you, babe.”

I took my phone back from Fiona and shoved it into my purse. “There’s no way we won’t make it to the next round. Drew’s offer was fantastic and we’re a great team. I’d be more worried about that cooking class.”

Juliette clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “Oh, I can justimaginethe insurance he’d have to take out for that. Rob always has to insure his guitar.”

We gave her a strange look.

“Why?” Drew asked.

She replied, quite seriously, “In case it bursts into flames while he’s playing it.”

Well, then.

Fiona responded, saving both Drew and me from answering, “If anyone will burn down his restaurant, it’ll be Clementine.”

“Hey!” I cried. “I mightnot.”

She pointed out, “You’ve admitted that you’ve put tinfoil in the microwave.”

“It wasonceand I wasdrunkand the candy bar wasfrozen,” I said defensively, and everyone laughed and agreed that they’d all sell a kidney to be a fly on the wall of that cooking class.

They went on to talk about their current guesses for how long Basil Ray would stay at Faux before regretting his decision and returning to Strauss & Adder. Here, he was a big fish, but over at Faux? Not so much.

“He’s not coming back,” Drew said to Juliette. “And even if he did, he’s exhausted the list of every reputable ghostwriter.”

Juliette’s eyes widened. “He has aghostwriter? Oh, actually that makes sense. His cookbooks are always so different...”

And I found myself zoning out a little again. I smeared a soft Brie on a cracker, topped it with apricot jam, and wondered what Iwan would think of this place. Would he like all the skulls on the wall, the terrible puns on the menu, or would he rake his eyes across the expanse and turn around and leave immediately, because it wasn’t somewhere his glossy image would go? Him, James Ashton, drinking house wine and eating the cheapest cheese plate at a death-themed bar with a bunch of gossipers?

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