Her jade green eyes sweep over me, and my face does this thing where it feels odd and hot because I know those very same eyes saw me standing in my boxers early this morning. After she hacked my security, snuck into my house, and stole the necklace, all at the behest of Granny. I think I should dub Granny with a new name: Meddler Granny. It has a nice ring to it, and it’s bloody true.
“Uh, my instructions were to give this back.” The lady has a lovely voice—musical, soft, and sweet. To compliment her black outfit, she has sleek black leather gloves on.
Typically, I’d be puzzled because New Orleans doesn’t call for gloves at just about any time of the year, but right now, I’m just thankful. She’s not touching the necklace with her bare skin, and she’s not wearing it. It’s not stuck on her like Ash’s ring was on Ellis or making the lights flash and getting all hot and strange like Toren’s bracelet when Luna had it.
Say something, you moronic butthead.
“Uh, yes. Thanks.” I extend my hand, but even though the necklace is hanging between us, the big pendant flashing under the reception lighting, she doesn’t let it coil into my hand. She doesn’t release it.
Her eyes flash and sweep over me, almost like she’s expecting some sort of trap. Since my Granny set this all up, I don’t blame her for thinking this is mighty strange. If unicorns burst through the front door with stun guns to use against her, I don’t think she’d be surprised. Maybe I wouldn’t either because stranger things have happened when it comes to Granny.
“I was also instructed to get a photo of us together with the necklace. A selfie.” She says the word selfie like it’s distasteful, and I find myself cringing along with her. I’m thirty-two, so I’m not exactly from the selfie-loving, social media posting, photo-crazed generation.
“Let me guess, my Granny’s orders?” The lady nods. I really should get her name since calling her the lady burglar, while it does have a sort of je ne sais quoi quality to it, isn’t exactly right. “I’ll agree to it if you tell me your name.”
She stares at me like I expect her to fall for the oldest trick in the book. “Right. Would that be my fake name or my fake name?”
“Uh, how about your real one?” Right, I forgot this person is a hacker Granny paid to bust through my security system to prove a point. I got so wrapped up in getting the necklace back and thinking about all the harm it could do that I almost forgot all about the second key point.
She shakes her head, but then she sighs. “Fine. It’s Lindy. Your Granny already knows that, so I guess she could just tell you. But that’s all you get. First name only.” She pulls out her phone, which has a sparkly pink case with dancing cats and rainbows on the back, and holds it up. “Farge,” she mutters when she can’t get both of us in the frame.
I could accommodate her by stepping closer, but I stay where I am, rooted to the marble tile floor. The whole reception area is made of marble, so it’s quite shiny and glistening. I like people to get a sense of security when they come in here to buy security systems, but don’t ask me why marble or expensive chandeliers convey that. My receptionist keeps saying she’s going to go blind in here as it’s so bright. Maybe it’s a little much. The chandeliers, I mean, not the marble. This place could be mistaken for a jewelry store, but I liked everything when I picked it out after buying the building to overhaul it. It seriously needed an overhaul. It hadn’t had a facelift since the eighties, and it was looking a little…eighties retro, and not in a good way. I like it much better the way it is now.
Lindy takes a step closer. Then another. She holds up her phone, lets the necklace dangle dangerously close to her face, then bends her knees so I’m squared up in the background, which I can see through her phone screen.
“Jaysus,” she mutters as she clicks the little round button on the screen. “These lights are burning my retinas.” She spins around, steps up, and drops the necklace into my upturned palm, all within a single graceful movement, which pretty much leaves me gobsmacked. “Dude, you could go with one less chandelier in here. The floor is…kind of shiny. Ever thought of investing in an area rug?”
These are all suggestions I’ve heard before, and for a second, I wonder if Granny put Lindy up to this too. She’s criticizing my lobby, but she does it with an innocent wrinkle to her nose, an adorable scrunched brow, and—