Page 17 of Red Flag, Green Light

My eyes roll. “I wish those people’s hearts were colder. Maybe then I’d know less about the miracle of cow birth.”

“What an odd thing to say.”

“It actually isn’t. Try again.”

“I can pay you.”

I hum and take a sip of my soda. “Bribery. I’d have expected threat of bodily harm to come first. How much are you offering for this project managing position?”

“How much would be effective?”

He and his brother live in a modest home right next to mine. I don’t see either of them leave for work, but then again with modern society that doesn’t mean they aren’t working online just like I do. How much is a reasonable wage for a few months as a project manager? And how much extra would I require to make it worth my while…?

And, wait a second, I don’t actually need money. At all.

There’s…absolutely nothing that I want, is there? Nothing I’m interested in. Nowhere I want to go. Nothing I want to do.

I live to read. I read for work. I decorate my home in plants and bookcases, creating a hovel for a book hermit. There is nothing that Mars can offer me that I can’t find within the wonderful realm of stories.

There is absolutely no reason for me to exit my comfort zone in an attempt to aid a known lunatic, who likely is only plotting aFlag Day festival as a diversion for some other insane plot.

Because while Jove slashes tires and exacts odd justices all over town, Mars—Amelia tells me—has always schemed bigger. He’s set government property on fire, for reasons unknown. He’s stolen animals from the pound, forcibly rehomed them, then vanished into the ether. Apparently, he was loaded in high school because he had half a dozen side hustles, including tutoring, which Amelia says may or may not have involved breaking into offices and studying the tests beforehand. He’d make people do the work, but he’d tutor specifically to the content to make sure the product he offered was relevant—which is nuts. Almost as nuts as the fact he’d turn in all his tests with surplus information in the margins three times as difficult or complex as the actual questions.

Whenever teachers tried to address him on the subject ofcheating, he’d ask for a verbal quiz right then and there and get all the answers right (going so far as to break open the source content and correct the teachers whenever they misremembered something) before walking away.

Once—and probably the reason Amelia knowsanyof this—Brian went to bat for him and said that anyone Mars tutors absolutely wouldn’t be cheating, because Mars’s methods were the equivalent of scoring knowledge into your very soul.

You’d pass the class, and carry the trauma for the rest of your life.

That’s Mars.

A brilliant mastermind who knows exactly how to utilize the tools around him to his advantage.

All this said, I am not the most obvious tool for whatever he’s up to currently if he just needs someone to be the face of his operation. That reasoning is weak. You don’t get someone who barely displays having any social skills to do this job. I also don’t think for a second that he’s justtrying to do something nice forhis brother.

The manipulative angle dawns on me, and realization seems to show on my face, because Mars says, “Have you calculated your price?”

“You’re using my curiosity to manipulate me into agreeing.”

His gazeskids. “I wouldnever.”

“And you’re feeding me because people are more relaxed and open while eating.”

He braces his chin in his hand, rests his elbow on the fine dining table, and peers at me through the fire. “What? No. Absolutely not. This is a date.”

Yeah, sure. Adate. “I cannot become an accessory to a crime. I’m not certain there are enough books for me in prison.”

“There is no crime, but if there were, I haven’t faced the repercussions of being caught in three thousand four hundred twenty-four days, so I’d say you’re in good hands.”

“Three thousand four hundred twenty-four days? Do you keep tally marks on your bedroom walls?”

“No, I keep jokers on my bedroom walls, and aDays Since Incidentmarker on my desk.”

“Posh.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not interested in money.”

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