She pulls back to eye me. “Where are you on the panic meter?”
My adrenaline spikes as I pause to gauge it. “About a three.”
Nellie looks relieved. “Not bad. Have you seen…” She glances over each shoulder. “…P-word anywhere?”
“You know her name doesn’t actually count as a curse word, right?”
“In my book, it does,” Nellie says. “But then again, maybe I can use it like a free pass.” She looks thoughtful for a blink, then gives it a try. “I had to pull over this morning because I got a Patty flat tire.It was Patty annoying.”
I laugh, and she comes up with another.
“Spam mail again? This is bull-Pat.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, glancing about the place. The camera crew is getting set up now. “You better stop before she shows up.”
“If I call her a Jack-Pat, do you think she’ll know what I mean?”
“Yoo-hoo, it’s your morning coffee gofer,” Patty chimes, carting a coffee holder from the café. “I know you guys have yourfavorites, but I thought you should all have a golden latte for this golden day.”
“What?” Nellie sounds ticked. “Why would you?—”
“Don’t worry,” Patty interrupts while handing over the drinks. “I paid the difference. Yourcappuccino breveis so last season.”
“Yet that dress neverhada season, Satan,” Nellie grumbles.
“You meansatin?” Patty glances at her dress, which is gold with even golder dots. “Yes. It’sveryexpensive.”
Nellie takes a whiff of her drink. “Smells like Patty.”
Patty’s brow furrows even as she giggles. “Idosmell like sugar, spice, and everything nice.”
“That’sonepossibility.” Nellie nudges my arm. “I’ve gotta run. Good luck! You’re going to be amazing. And Patty,” she adds as she lifts her cup. “Thanks for robbing my right to choose my own beverage.”
“You’re welcome.” Patty turns to me with wide eyes. “That’sright!It’s your big audition day. You’re not doing a prison face-time call with your dad, are you?”
Acid-like anger boils my blood. I take a sip of coffee to keep from replying. Since Patty’s part of the set crew, she already knows Mr. Bruce and Jinxy are doing the segment with me.
“Maybe they can send out one of the squad’s K9s.” She snorts.
My jaw clenches. “Stuff it, Patty,” I say because I’ve had enough, and she needs to know it. “I hope you never know the pain of having someone you love go to prison. And for the record, my mother overcame her addiction by the grace of God. She’s clean, sober, and dedicating her life to helping others do the same.”
I’m shaking with indignation, but dang, that felt good.
Patty blinks like she’s been smacked in the face.
I spin on one heel, take another sip of the spiced latte, and register three things at once:
Thing one: It has curry in it.
Thing two: Nellie is repulsed by curry; hence, the comment on the smell.
Thing three: Curry—which is often used in golden lattes—typically includes turmeric.
An audible gasp tears from my throat. “You didn’t give one of these to Mr. Bruce, did you?”
I spin around to catch that possessed, weapon-clenching look on her face.
“Whatever do you mean?”
