Page 68 of Windlass

“Lana?” Angie ran out of the barn and skidded to a halt beside Stevie, stabilizing her. Stevie snarled and lunged. Angie grabbed her by the back of her shirt.

“I want to talk to you,” said Lana.

“Not here. I’m working.”

“Take a lunch break.”

“You can’t—” Angie started. “No, Lana. I’m not on lunch right now, and I don’t need you picking fights at my job. Youknowhow much I need this job.”

Lana glared at Stevie, and Stevie realized that there were things Lana wanted to say that she was not saying because Stevie was present—probably things like “Why aren’t you answering my calls?” This allayed her rage enough to return the power of speech.

“You heard her. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Shut up, Stevie.”

“Both of you shut up. If a client were here right now? Do you know how bad you’re both making me look?”

Stevie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Ange—”

“I’ve got this. Lana, you have three seconds to tell me why you’re here.”

“You heard her,” Lana said to Stevie. “Give us a minute.”

“No.”

“Stevie, please.” Angie turned to her, face blotchy with anger and poorly concealed panic. Stevie relented despite her misgivings. She’d never seen Angie look like that.

“I’ll be right here.” She backed up a few steps. Lana flipped her off.

Angie stepped close enough to Lana to glare up at her, and while Stevie couldn’t quite make out the words she hissed angrily she could see Lana’s expression growing steadily more and more furious.

“Have fun with that one,” Lana said at last, loud enough for Stevie to hear and gesturing in her direction. “Didn’t think you liked ’em whipped.”

“Fuck off, Lana,” said Angie.

“Call me when you get bored.”

Lana stalked away to her car, leaving Angie shaking and Stevie wishing she’d brought her bow and arrows with her so that she could stick a few holes in Lana’s Jeep. Or Lana. She wasn’t picky.

“You okay?” she asked Angie.

“Seriously? What was that? I donotneed you picking fights for me.”

“I—what?”

“Next time she shows up just come get me, okay?”

“Next time? Will there be a next time, Ange? When you ‘get bored’ of me?” She couldn’t quite make her voice obey her. Instead of sounding nonchalant, she sounded like she felt, injured.

Angie’s face softened and her lips lost their hard edge. “You have to ignore what she says. She’s a dick, and she knows how to get under people’s skins.”

“Speaking of dicks, did you . . .” But she couldn’t bring herself to bring up the picture on Lana’s phone and trailed off.

“Did I what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and watched Lana peel out of the driveway. Lana had showed her that picture to piss her off. Angie hadn’t stopped talking to her that long ago. It was perfectly plausible Angie had sent the photo right before she swore off Lana, possibly even on the night she’d invited Lana over.

---