Bad Intentions - Too Bad It’s Fake

“I do you know, think that you’re important, that is. I mean there’s your charity work and all the defense cases you take. I mean you got that Turkish journalist out of prison for writing a satirical novel and—”

“You’ve been googling me.”

“Yes, I have. I didn’t even know that international civil liberties were a thing.”

“It shouldn’t be, really. So many countries have their own laws, it can be almost impossible to keep them all straight.”

“Must take a really good memory.”

“Yes, and some bullshitting skills. All for the greater good, of course. In the case you mentioned, I got her out by pointing out that while there is a law against criticizing Turkishness because the novel was a satire, it did not criticize it directly and given the extremely specific references and deep metaphors it was unlikely that most people, even Turkish people, would get it anyway, and would likely just read it on a surface level. In the end, the government decided that they didn’t mind being made fun if no one knew it was happening.”

“Genius,” Emma said shaking her head in wonder.

“A hail Mary actually, but it worked.”

As the even went on, food was assembled and prepared with amazing speed and efficiency, each tasting better than the last. I made sure to tell Emma so.

“Honestly? You’re not just saying that?” she asked as I ate a sausage roll. Somehow, she had missed the fact that it was my third helping.

“Honestly, it’s really good.”

She went and sat down with some emphasis at the dining table, resting her head in her hands. “I think I might have overdone it. I just want everything to be perfect.”

“It will be, and you didn’t overdo anything. Yeah, it was a bit intense, but that was how you get to be the best.”

I put down the sausage roll and went to her. Putting my hands on her shoulders, I gently gave her a massage. Emma humming contently, not raising her head as I worked her tight shoulders and neck.

“That feels really good,” she said.

“You’re going to do great,” I insisted.

When Emma had rallied a bit, we got down to writing up the menu for the party. In the end, there were maybe five items Emma struck from the list, bringing the menu down to seven items, each arranged perfectly for the course they were being prepared for.

I was so excited for her. This could really change her life.

Chapter Thirteen

Emma

We had been cooking most of the night. Noah had arrived just after five, and it was nearing midnight when all was said and done. To celebrate, we sat at the table and finished off the final dish I’d made, some handmade eclairs I’d gotten the recipe for online, finishing it off before there rest had to go into the fridge for later. I was going to be up to my eyeballs in party food for a week or so.

“You’re eating around the cream,” I said, looking at Noah.

“Saving it,” he said.

I laughed. “Aw, come on live a little. Bite right into the middle.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Will you turn into a pumpkin?” I asked.

“Possibly.” He grinned.

I took a bit of the whipped cream from the center of the eclair and dabbed it on his nose. He looked at me with something resembling shock. Slowly and methodically, Noah took some of his own cream and flung it in my general direction. I could see it coming and managed to dodge, most of it going on my shoulder. I took more from mine and did the same flick move only with a good deal more accuracy hitting him directly in the chin. To be fair, I had a good deal of practice. Noah tried again, despite his failed first attempt, that shot getting me in the chest. Which would have been impressive if he hadn’t clearly been aiming for my head.

“Nice shot,” I said before retiring fire, hitting him in the cheek.

“Touché,” he said, because of course, he did.

No longer trusting his aim, Noah broke off a bit of the eclair and came at me, smooshing it into my face. While he was distracted, I broke off a bit of my own and got him back, squishing my handful directly into his face. He stumbled back, from surprise as much as force — I’ve never been very strong.

Noah caught himself, leaning against the table and blinked, trying to get his bearings. It was adorable.

Suddenly, he came to me. Not aggressively but with great conviction. I still put my hands up defensively, just in case. Taking me gently by the wrists, Noah pulled me up to my feet and towards him, taking me into an embrace, the cream making an interesting sound. Then, holding me still, he gently licked the cream from my face and started moving down towards my chest.