Fifty Fifty (Detective Harriet Blue #2)(87)

She punched me gently. (We had not rehearsed the adlibs.)

“Anyway, we got a message from the Store HR people, and they … offered … us … jobs.”

“Doing what?” Chuck asked. “Writing ad copy or catalog stuff?”

“Well, that’s the sorry part,” I said. “They’re kinda crappy jobs. We’ll be working in their fulfillment center. You know, filling orders and getting them out to people. But …” I paused. I was lost.

Megan was not going to let that sentence hang there in space. “But,” Megan said, “because the Store is so big and growing, we’ll be eligible for promotions and advancements within three months. Just three months.”

“And that’s the story,” I said, hoping that the strength in my delivery would let me recover and seal the deal with my friends.

Okay, they were surprised. Very surprised. And yes, our friends were still spitting out a few farmer jokes, a few Republican jokes, a few Cornhusker jokes. But as I looked around the room I could tell everyone believed me. Someone mentioned a good-bye party. Someone else mentioned a group bus trip to Nebraska. Yes, it looked like everyone believed us.

Well, almost everyone.

I glanced out the apartment window and saw a drone hovering. It was recording everything going on at our dinner table.

I also noticed that Anne Gutman was looking directly at me. We were good friends, old friends. She had a weak smile on her lips. And I could tell that Anne wasn’t buying a single word of our story.