She sighs heavily, rolls her eyes. “About as much as ever, but you know me.”
“I sure do,” the older man retorts. “Fake it ’til you make it.”
“Someone get me some baked goods,” Lilith barks, and immediately a few guys scurry out of the room. “I’ll go over early enough to catch them off guard but not so early to be obnoxious.”
“And what do I do?” I ask.
Lilith smiles. “You stay out of the way.”
I scowl, annoyed I’m expected to just sit back and wait for it to be over. “Surely, I can help in some way.”
“Can you bake?”
I level Lilith with my best unimpressed look, but she just laughs, so I shake my head, knowing there’s nothing I can do to change her mind. Especially given the fact she’s not wrong. I may dabble in the morally questionable, but when push comes to shove, I’m better on the sidelines.
Resigned to my safe fate, I sigh, waving off Lilith’s silly joke. “You’re a regular comedian.”
She chuckles again, then sobers as she says, “I’ll get her back.”
“I know you will,” I respond. “I just hope she’ll be okay…someday.”
Lilith’s expression softens, her eyes becoming slightly unfocused as she says, “She will, Conrad. With enough time and enough love, she’ll be okay.”
She gives my hand a squeeze, her smile reassuring yet still haunted. Then she blinks, and it’s gone, that lethal veil falling over her as she turns away, shouting, “Someone get me a fucking basket.”
37
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
STILL 20-ISH YEARS AGO…
LILITH
I hate beingnice to people.
Even knowing how this is going to end for these people, the fact I have to go over there and pretend to be friendly makes my skin crawl.
I’ve been giving myself a pep talk for the duration of the short walk over here, and now I’m standing on the front steps, warmed pastries in hand, wishing I had a gun.
“This is fine,” I mutter to myself. “Everything is fine.”
I knock on the door, listening intently for movement before pressing the doorbell. Footfalls tap, tap, tap closer, the door swings open, revealing a tired looking blonde woman.
“Good morning,” I drawl, doing my best to be cheerful without coming off as slightly unhinged. “I’m new to the neighborhood, and just wanted to introduce myself.”
The woman at the door squints, then scans the street behind me, her expression suspicious. “I’m not buying anything.”
“Oh,” I respond, holding the sweet-smelling baked goods out in front of me. “I brought you some treats, no charge at all.”
She raises a brow, looks down at the basket, and then back up at me. “They’re free? Seriously?”
I nod, then laugh. “I wouldn’t mind trading them for a cup of coffee, but that’s not required.”
Adjusting my grip on the basket, I make sure she has a clear view of the expensive rings on my fingers, the Rolex on my wrist. Personally, I would call a stranger blinged out on my doorstep at 9 am a red flag, but greedy people are often too blinded by pretty things to worry about the possible threat they may be.
She looks me up and down for a moment, then swings the door open, steps to the side. “Well, I suppose I could make some coffee.”
I turn my smile up a notch, even as I grit my teeth, though I’m ecstatic that I’m one step closer to rearranging her face. From the look of her, she’s had some years of hard living, but I can still see the underlying air of money in how she presents herself.
