“You’re such a good friend,” Mach responded, dryly.
“Coffee. Check. Irina, you have news?” Knox asked, turning back to her.
“Yes. I do.” She smoothed the waist area of where her red and orange paisley blouse tucked into her teal jeans. “As I was saying when I arrived, I have excellent news.”
“But it’s not drinkable coffee,” Mach said from the sofa.
Knox hopped up on a barstool, his neanderthal feet hooked against the footrest. “Whatcha got? Because both of our days are about to go to shit over mediocre crepes with my mom.”
Nope. Their days were just fine. A-okay and perhaps even awesome.
“One of the actresses in the Templeton Production Residency had an emergency tonsillectomy,” Irina said, doing her best to broadcast her sympathy, while also being excited about her opportunity.
Knox stared at her funny. Even Mach gave her some side-eye.
“She’s fine,” Irina assured. “But she’s not going to be talking or singing for the next three months.” She sort of sang that last little bit.
“That sounds horrible.” Knox’s expression turned pained. “I had mine out when I was thirteen. It was worse than Mach’s coffee.”
Mach opened his mouth. Probably to defend the honor of his coffee, but they didn’t need to go backward—
“You’re right. It is. Totally horrible surgery for her.” Irina sauntered to the kitchen to pour herself a cuppa and see what the fuss was all about. “But thanks to her faulty tonsils, we don’t have to meet with your mom now.” She flashed a pair of jazz hands before serving herself up some coffee with a dollop of creamer.
“I have no idea how one of these things has to do with the other?” Knox scratched at the back of his neck. “Can you draw me a visual dot-to-dot?”
Mach snorted.
“This means we are flying to Denver today!” Irina said, poking her finger in the air like she was actually completing a puzzle.
“Uh. Why?” Knox didn’t do that math, but that was her fault, because she hadn’t exactly been clear with her word salad solution.
“Because I have an audition for the part.” She lifted her mug to her lips, took a small sip through her massive grin. “Immediately.”
There was nothing wrong with that coffee.
“Serious?” Knox asked, a slow grin spreading.
Irina grinned right back. “Your mom can’t make us meet with her when we’re five states away. Ba da boom.”
“You know she’ll talk us out of going.” Knox frowned. “She’s that good at what she does.”
“That’s why we’re not calling her until we’re in the air.” Irina held the steaming mug closer, going for her best villainess impression. “By then, it’ll be too late.”
“It’s remarkably frightening how you do that so easily,” Mach said, dryly.
The door pushed open, and Tanner strode through with a carrier of Starbucks cups. “Coffee’s here.”
“Already have some.” Mach lifted his mug. “So does Irina.”
“I got you a vanilla latte.” Tanner handed over a Grande size cup for her.
Oh, she was going vanilla latte for sure. There wasn’t anything wrong with Mach’s coffee, but if there was a vanilla latte in the room, with her name on it, there wasn’t much right, either.
“You’re the sweetest.” Irina took the offered coffee, set her mug in the sink, and reveled in her good luck of the day. Everything came up Irina.
“When’s your audition?” Knox asked.
Tanner beamed and held out his knuckles. “You got another audition? Awesome.”
