Killer Love

“Don’t act like you don’t love my homemade treats.” I push our already overloaded cart toward the front of the store. I recall the last time we did a sleepover we said we’d order takeout because this always happens. This cart is way over-packed with things that we’re probably not going to eat tonight and shouldn’t get.

“This is true. If your cookies are extra good I’ll do most of the knitting for you. You could do the last few stitches so then you can say that you made it and it’s not really a lie.” I scrunch my nose at the idea. “Never mind. You can’t even tell a little white lie, can you?”

“I don’t know. Seems silly to lie about something you don’t need to.”

“Sometimes a lie is for the greater good.” She hits me with a hard stare, one that says she’s trying to teach me a lesson. Maybe. It’s not something I want to think about tonight. Tonight is supposed to be about sister time and catching up.

The plan is to veg out while binge watching mindless reruns of reality TV as I try to cook so that I don’t have to knit. I should probably give it a try. I didn’t want to tell Gina whenever I think about knitting that my mind drifts to making little baby socks or mittens.

“Did I tell you I love the color you painted your office?” She posted pictures of it just this morning.

“Hmm. Your voice goes up two octaves when you do try and lie. Maybe it’s best you stick to the truth.” Gina looks down at her shoes. “And what the hell is wrong with my paint? It’s white.” Everything in her office is white. From the walls, to the furniture, to the floor. I’d be scared to breathe in there because I could mess something up.

“Like in an insane asylum?”

“Hardy har har.” For some reason it doesn’t feel as though her office matches her personality.

“My office is a blank canvas. I go there to create things. I want everything to start from scratch.”

I ponder her words. That actually does kind of make sense. Gina really is an artist. She could create something out of nothing. Except for food. It’s her one downfall. She can’t even boil water without burning it. We all have to have a flaw of some sort. She can’t cook to save her life but she can eat like there is no tomorrow. Not that you could tell that from looking at her.

“You’re taking some of this food home with you.” We start unloading all of the groceries onto the checkout belt.

“Angel?” A chill runs up my spine at the sound of my name because I know who it is without having to look. I turn to see Chad standing there with a basket in his hand. For some reason I can’t picture him shopping at a grocery store. His basket only has a few very random items in it.

“Hey, Chad.” I give another fake smile to him.

“What a coincidence running into you here.” It is. Not for me but for him. This is my neighborhood. I know Chad lives on the other side of the city in a penthouse condo that he’s constantly bragging about.

“I come here often.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them.

“Stockpiling because the husband is out of town?” He looks at all my groceries in my cart. How does he know that my husband is out of town? It could be random talk around the courthouse or something. “I still want to talk to you about that job.”

“I’m not looking for a new job.” I turn to help my sister unload more of the groceries. I can see her giving Chad the side-eye.

“I bet I pay double what you’re making now.”

“Dude. See the ring on her finger? I don’t think she’s worried about pay. More about enjoying her job.” My sister is quick to jump in. She makes her dislike for Chad clear in her tone and by the look on her face. She doesn’t have to make nice if she doesn’t want to. That is Gina for you. She gives no fucks and her loyalty might be to me first but my husband is a close second. She loves him like a brother. Chad glares at Gina for a moment, but she only glares back.

“See you around, Angel.” Chad winks at me before he wanders off down one of the aisles. Relief fills me at his departure. There’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way.

“He gives me the creeps.” Gina watches him go.

“Plastic okay, Mrs. Calvery?” Jimmy the cashier asks, pulling my eyes away from where Chad had wandered off.

“I’ve got my bags.” I reach under the cart, pulling them out. I hand them to Gina to hand to him since she’s closer.