“Close the door.”I pitch my voice to carry.“And mind your own fucking business.”
“Coffee?”I ask as Kayla settles into her seat.“Tea?One of those probiotic sodas that’s supposed to help you shit like a Kardashian?”
“Do you have any of that?”
“No, but I’ll tell Robin I want one.”
She’s not impressed.
“What?”I ask.“He’s loaded.His dad invented—uh, what’s like Microsoft, but even nerdier?”
“Gray, we need to talk.”
“Uh, okay.That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not.”She reaches for her purse, presumably for her smokes, and glances around.“How do you not have any windows in here?”
“Because this is the room where they used to keep Jiminy fucking Cricket.What happened?What’s wrong?”
Kayla is what they call a nonprofit development specialist.And for some reason known only to God, she agreed to help me at ridiculously reduced rates, thank God, since by that point, the grant was long gone.Right now, though, she doesn’t look like she’s planning on developing this particular nonprofit.She looks like she’s wondering how much she can smoke before she sets off the sprinkler system.
“Kayla!”
“All right!”She takes a deep breath.“I’ve been…talking to people.Some clients.Friends of friends.Potential donors.”She stops.“They’re all very excited about what you’re doing here.”
“Okay, great.”
“There’s nothing like this in Wahredua.The college’s support is a big deal.And there’s a lot of goodwill for the people you’re trying to help, which is part of the reason I let you drag me into this in the first place.”
“You’re saying good things,” I say.“These are good things, right?This is the kind of shit you want to hear before your first major fundraiser.”
“Everyone wants this program to succeed.”
And then she stops again.
I sit back, and the old chair squeaks.“You know who does this?”
Kayla is looking around like she might have missed a window.
“Tops do this.It’s so big.You’re going to love it.I don’t want to hurt you.And then all they do is poke around with the tip.Bitch, just stick it in.”
Kayla doesn’t laugh, but she does look at me, and it’s alook.
Robin’s breathing a little more heavily on the other side of the door, God help me.
“You,” Kayla says.
“What about me?”
“The problem is you.”
I shift.The chair squeaks again.“What?”
“Gray, look.It’s a small town.People have long memories.”
“Me?I’m the problem?”
“You’ve had a lot of…ups and downs.”
