I don’t take the bait to ask how Laney’s doing.
Not my business.
My business isnothearing gossip about anyone else in this town—ever—and chopping wood and stalking the internet for people who need a little cash thrown their way.
To pay for gas or groceries.
For medical expenses.
For someone to hire a naked polka band to interrupt their sister’s wedding since she’s marrying a douche canoe.
That one hit close to home.
And was my first random act of kindness when I decided my entire bank account needs to go, which is proving more difficult to accomplish than it should be.
“Hear from Emma?” Sabrina asks.
I shake my head and make myself look at her despite the hit of guilt that comes with the question.
I tried. Did my best to make sure she was getting what she wanted. And I still feel like I let her down.
Hard not to.
I snuck over to her bungalow to see her before I made all the arrangements for my cats and flew home, and she told me to go away. That she didn’t want to do this with me right now, and we’d talk when she got home.
I know she’ll forgive me. It’s what she does.
And she won’t do anything to imply her forgiveness is out of obligation, but I’ll still feel like it is.
That’s on me.
One more thing to work on.
Sabrina’s body deflates. “When she gets home, can you—can you put in a good word for me?”
“Sure.”
“I’m off gossip.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am. Forever. I’m done.”
I stare at her.
She crosses her arms and stares back while the kittens sniff around her boots.
Sabrina was born in the kitchen at the original Bean & Nugget here in Snaggletooth Creek, and her soul will forever be there. She’s been hearing gossip at that little café since before she was old enough to understand what it was, and she’s been using it effectively since high school, when she finally found her own line of what she should and shouldn’t cross.
Guess that line got blurry last week.
“I mean it,” she says while she squats to stroke Jellybean’s little head. “I’m done with the gossip. See? This is menotasking how many reporters you’ve seen up here andnottelling you how many we’ve chased away down in town.”
I lift a brow.
She makes a face. “And this is menottelling you that my new asshole boss has been sending messages through his secretary that we’re to continue as normal until he arrives sometime next week if we want to stay employed. Which isnotgossip. For the record. It’s my reality. Also not gossip, because I thought you should know—that phone call you overheard Chandler having?Thatwas with my new boss. Chandler actually wanted the asshole togo to the weddingincognito and spy on all of us so he’d know how best to handle all of us when he showed up and announced his new position while Chandler was supposed to be on his honeymoon. Can you believe that?”
“Chandler can suck a bag of dicks.”
