Page 5 of Boss Me Around

So, without saying a word, I pull up my voicemail, put it on speaker, and let my finger hover over the green button.

Before I can tap it, Starling locks both her hands around my wrist and begs, “Please, don’t. Please. If we’re really friends, even a little bit, you’ll delete that message and pretend tonight never happened.”

“Why?” I ask, my eyes narrowing on hers.

She pulls in a bracing breath and her lips part, but before she can speak, my cell vibrates.

I glance down to see a text from Kane, chairman of the board for the Furry Friends Society. He’s also a friend of mine, but not the kind of friend who texts on a Friday night, so I’m not surprised when I skim the message and realize he’s reaching out about the glitchy camera situation.

“The cameras are out at the shelter?” Starling says, sounding shocked.

“Yeah, like you said. Right?” I study her face carefully as I add, “Remind me never to read private texts in your presence. When did you learn to read upside down?”

She shrugs tightly. “I don’t know. Now, maybe? I just looked and…” She shifts to stand beside me, reading the text again. “Wow. Yeah. The cameras are out, and he wants you to go check on them. That’s…” She clears her throat and stands up straighter. “That’s exactly what you should do. What we should do.”

Deciding to ignore her weirdness about the cameras—for now—I nod toward the rest of the bowling team. “My truck isn’t here. I rode with Chuck.”

“That’s fine.” She waves a breezy hand. “I can drive. Just grab your things. I’ll wait here. Oh, and tell Kane I’m coming with you? Just in case he tries my cell and realizes I left it at home?”

Frowning again, I nod and head over to say goodbye to the rest of the team, my head spinning.

She left her cell at home?

That might not be strange for some people, but Starling is always on her phone. She monitors the Furry Friends social media account like a newborn baby she alone can keep fed, happy, and living its best life. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Starling without her phone.

I’ve also never seen her in sweatpants, a t-shirt, no bra, soaking wet, without her makeup or hair done, or in such a manic state. The rain pouring down outside explains the wet part, but the rest of this is odd to say the least.

Something is definitely up with her—and that message she so desperately wants me to delete—and I intend to find out what.

Tonight.

Chapter Three

STARLING

I’m a witch.

Or clairvoyant maybe?

Or this could be one of those weird glitches in the matrix that happen every once in a while, like when you see a one-legged seagull fly by your window only to see an exact duplicate fly by in the same direction just a few seconds later.

A lot of smart people say there’s a real chance we’re living in a computer simulation.

Maybe that’s what this is.

If so, I should be more worried about my consciousness being trapped in virtual reality and controlled by my Artificial Intelligence overlords than embarrassing myself in front of Christian.

But I’m not.

The rain pouring down as we race to my car, the strained silence on the way to the shelter, the smell of Christian’s spicy cologne teasing at my nose in the small space—it all feels too real to be a simulation. Which means my bad luck may have taken a chilling turn.

What if I can make bad things happen, just by thinking about them?

The cameras were broken a few weeks ago, but they’ve been fine since the technician came out to service them. What are the chances that a lie I whipped up on the spur of the moment to explain my harried presence at the bowling alley would turn out to be true?

Slim, I think.

Maybe even very slim.

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