Page 35 of Dirty Ex-Mas
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I stay silent.
“Well?” she goads.
“I won’t let you manipulate me like that,” I tell her.
“Why assume I was trying to manipulate you? That’s not nice.”
“Weren’t you?” I watch her from the corner of my eye, waiting to see what she’ll do. Instead of responding verbally, she waves her hand dismissively and looks back out the window. “Quinn, I have ajobto do. You were at a party with a loaded gun and by your own admission, intending to shoot someone. That’s not something I can just ignore whether or not I want to kiss you.”
“You’re admitting you want to kiss me?”
“Of course, I want to kiss you! Look at you, you’re gorgeous.”
“You think I’m gorgeous?” Her lips spread from cheek to cheek. A complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree flip from her attitude thirty seconds ago. “You like me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I like you.”
“Okay, you like me? Or youlikeme?”
“What’s the difference?”
“If youlikeme, then you’ll have no problem kissing me. But if it’s just that you like me, then you say hi when you see me, and maybe you smile, but that’s it.”
I try to wrap my head around what she’s saying. Part of me understands the difference and part of me thinks she’s a bit of a wack job.
“I don’t think this is the time to talk about it.”
“Well, then when is?”
“After this case.”
“What case?”
“This sex trafficking case.”
“You’re working on the case too?”
“What do you mean ‘too’? It’s my case.”
“I thought . . .”
I wait for her to continue, but she bites on her fingernail. A small fleck of polish comes off and sticks to her lip. I reach over to brush it away.
“What?”
“You had nail polish.”
“On my lip?” She looks down at her nails. “Oh no, I chipped a nail.”
“That’s what happens when you chew on it.”
“You know this because you paint your nails so often?”
I shrug in response. I don’t paint my nails. But when you adhere a synthetic product to something growing and living, at some point it’s going to breakdown and weaken. If it’s polish and nails and you add teeth to that equation, it will chip. But I don’t tell Quinn that. Instead, I say, “I have sisters.”
“I didn’t know that. How many?”
“Two.”
