Black Diaries

12. Friendly Chat and Friendly Killing

Next morning, I was a teensy-weensy bit late for work. I hoped Jill wouldn't notice, but the moment she caught sight of me, her eyebrows shot up, and an evil grin spread across her face.

"You have the face on," she proclaimed. "Who is he?"

"What face?" I tried to sound das innocent as I could. After last night, that wasn't easy.

"The 'I-got-lucky' face, of course! Spill, girlfriend!"

"I have to work," I tried a trusted old evasion tactic. "There's an ant-eater with diarrhea I've got to take care of."

"I'll help you. I love ant-eaters!"

"And diarrhea?"

"Not so much. But I'll be paying more attention to what comes out of your mouth than what comes out of some ant-eater's ass."

It turned out that we had to wear face masks to take care of the ant-eater, so I was temporarily spared the inquisition. By the time we were finished and headed off to lunch, I hoped Jill might have forgotten. I guess I should have known better.

We had hardly sat down when she leaned across the table, waving a stalk of celery at me like a sword.

"Now, unglue those lips of yours and tell me everything!"

"About what?" My innocent tone didn't quite work.

"Don't play dumb with me! You have been moping around like a lovelorn wolf pup for the last couple of days, and now you have a grin on your face the size of Montana! Who is the guy?"

"Well..."

"I knew it! Spill!"

"If you really must know..."

"I must. In detail."

"There's this guy at the gym where I work out."

Jill pulled a face. "Please don't tell me you've fallen for some boring office guy who's trying to work off a few pounds."

I fought the grin wanting to conquer my face. "Nope. He hasn't got any pounds to lose. Unless you're talking about muscle."

"Sounds promising. So what the heck is he doing there if he's in such great shape?"

"Kicking my ass. Relax," I added when she opened her mouth in outrage. "He's supposed to. He's in my karate class."

"Karate?" Jill whistled. "What the hell do you want to learn karate for?"

"You never know when you'll meet a rabid gorilla on Second Avenue."

"True, true. So this guy is learning karate with you?"

"Hardly. He's teaching."

"Tea— You're shitting me!"

"Not after an hour with that ant-eater."

Her eyes sparkled with wicked delight. "Your teacher? I never knew you could be such a bad girl!"

Absentmindedly, I let my hand travel over the hilt of the knife I wore strapped to my waist, under my long, loose top. "You have no idea."

"You go, girl! Now, let's get to the juicy stuff! What does he look like?" she demanded.

"Well..." I hesitated. There was really no other way to say it. Now, I couldn't keep a grin from spreading over my face. "Actually, except for the loincloth, he looks just like Tarzan."

Jill closed her eyes. "You evil, evil woman."

"Really muscled," I continued, "tanned, long hair, often runs around in shorts..."