Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

going
     to the dojo. You don’t do kung fu in wedges.”
    “I don’t do kung fu at all, and I wear shoes to get to the class, which is not held
     in a dojo. Today I will wear
those
shoes. Which are mine.”
    Deirdre rolled her eyes and stepped over two newly redistributed piles of clothes.
     “You weren’t this selfish in college.”
    “I wasn’t buying my own stuff in college. Do you know what I paid for those?”
    “They were on sale.” Still, Deirdre sat on her bed—and a red sweater, a yellow and
     green skirt, and a pair of jeans—and unbuckled one shoe. “So who’s the target?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    Deirdre waved a vague hand. “You’re wearing a new sweater—which I love, by the way,
     and when did you get it?—and you’re desperate for your fuck-me wedges. There is a
     target.” She handed Beth one shoe, and her narrow face lit in a grin. “Oooh. Are you
     finally moving on Sean?”
    Beth slid the shoe on. “Sean and I are just friends.”
    “These are not just-friends shoes.” Deirdre dangled the second shoe by its skinny
     strap.
    “Anything more would be inappropriate, now that I’m working for him.” Beth reached
     for the shoe.
    Deirdre jerked it back, out of reach. “Nuh-uh. Not until you come clean. And you aren’t
     working for Sean. He’s a client, or his firm is, which is not the same thing at—hey!”
    Beth had tackled Deirdre back onto the bed, snatching her shoe in the process. Beth
     rolled off, sat up, and bent to fasten the shoe in place. “He doesn’t see it that
     way, plus he’s hung up on the age difference.”
    “Hence the shoes and the sweater.”
    Beth couldn’t help sliding her friend a grin. “Hence the shoes and sweater. “
    Deirdre squealed. “Go you! He’s one heavenly hunk of man, and what’s a couple of years?
     Besides, older guys can be so considerate.”
    It was twenty years, not a couple, and Beth knew that ought to matter. It didn’t.
     It just didn’t. “He’s picking me up in…Jesus. Any minute now.” She bolted to her feet
     and hurried to the bathroom. She needed to check her makeup.
    Deirdre pattered after her. “You need a spritz of my Opium—no, too obvious. He’d get
     his defenses up, and this is clearly an ambush. I know! That ‘come hither’ spell!”
     She dashed back to her room.
    Beth didn’t roll her eyes because she was redrawing her eyeliner. “I don’t have time.”
    “It’s super quick. I just need to find my grimoire—oh, here it is!” A muffled crash
     suggested she’d pulled it out from under something that hadn’t been entirely stable.
     She appeared in the bathroom door a second later, leather-bound book in hand. “And
     don’t give me any shit about not wanting to take unfair advantage. You know I only
     do white magic.”
    Beth wouldn’t object on those grounds at all…since this spell was no more likely to
     work than any of her friend’s spells. Deirdre was a complete null. On some level she
     had to know that, but she didn’t believe it. Plus her “spells” were derived more from
     her own freewheeling creativity than any existing tradition. Beth had to smile. “I
     know you do. No compulsion involved, huh?”
    “This is no more of a nudge than those shoes,” Deirdre assured her, and began chanting
     what might have been Latin. Or maybe Sanskrit. She’d gone through a Sanskrit phase
     awhile back.
    Just as Beth finished her mascara, Deirdre slapped the journal closed. “There!” she
     said happily. “He’ll be paying attention now.”
    And that was Deirdre. A flake, but so openhearted you couldn’t hold it against her.
     “Thanks,” Beth said, and gaveher a quick hug just as her phone chimed that a text had arrived. She checked and,
     sure enough, it was Sean, letting her know he was there.
    Be right down,
she sent, and grabbed the backpack with her workout clothes. Sean was courteous,
     but not insane about it. The apartment she shared with Deirdre and Susan—and wasn’t
     it funny that one of her roommates had the same name as her oldest sister? They were
     alike in other ways, too. The apartment the three of them shared was on the fifth
     floor and parking was impossible, so Beth didn’t really miss her car. Much.
    Five floors hadn’t seemed bad when her old college buddy mentioned needing a new roommate
     just when Beth decided she had to get out of San Diego. San Francisco was so crazy
     expensive she’d thought she couldn’t swing it, but