“I’m doing the quarterly numbers and wondering if it’s too late in life to start a recreational drug habit.” I sighed and opened the bottle of water but didn’t bother to drink it.

“I thought the accountant took care of all that. Why are you stressing yourself over it?” Adam asked, and I rolled my eyes. Adam made it clear from the beginning that he wanted nothing to do with the business end of well…running the business. He had failed every math class in high school and was vocal about his hatred of adding and subtracting.

So I left him responsible for marketing and advertising. He put ads in the paper and printed up pretty brochures that sat in the bathrooms and wastebaskets of every establishment in Southborough.

He also hired and trained our two part-time employees. Krista, who was more interested in checking her lipstick in the mirror than dealing with customers, and Jane, who I was pretty sure stole supplies when she thought no one was looking.

And I was the one who had to eat her own stomach acid four times a year as I tried to figure out how to keep us afloat.

We really were a bang-up team.

Razzle Dazzle wasn’t a cash cow. I had suspected for a year that it was in its death throes but I refused to admit it. Even though we had our good periods, it wasn’t enough to sustain us the entire year.

“If I don’t stress about it, who will, Adam?” I asked, digging the eraser end of my pencil into the center of my forehead.

Adam pulled out a bag and I almost lost what little cool I had left.

“Are those MY pretzels?” I shrieked, diving across the desk and snatching them from his hands.

Not before he pilfered a handful of my favorite snack.

“We have very few rules around here, but Thou shalt not eat Corin’s pretzels is the most important one!”

Adam gave me a level look that I never could read but made me bristle. “Does this have to do with PMS? I’m leaving early if it does.”

I glared at him. “Do not diagnose PMS unless you want this pencil to make nice with your eyeball.”

“You really need to sort out your pretzel issues. It’s becoming a problem, Cor.”

I popped one in my mouth and crunched it noisily, wishing it would mute the stressed-out voices in my head.

“So what’s the problem?” Adam asked, propping his feet up on my desk.

“Did you have any idea we were so far in the red? Or the fact that we are hemorrhaging cash? We still haven’t bounced back after purchasing the new kilns and pottery wheels last year.”

“Well, you have to spend money to make money, Cor. That’s Business 101.”

“You also need money to pay bills, which, if we continue as we are, we won’t be able to do.” I pushed his feet off the desk.

Adam sat forward and pulled the ledger toward him to have a look. “This doesn’t look too bad. So we’ve had a slow quarter. Our numbers before Christmas were decent. That’s got to make up for it, right?”

“I don’t know, Adam. This is pretty bad. Our outgoings are far exceeding our income. Right now we’re floating on what I have in savings and what’s left of my parents’ life insurance money. We’ve got to figure out a way to increase business and fast. Before our rainy-day money dries up. Unless you want to start that second career as an exotic dancer that we’ve talked about.”

Adam visibly shuddered.

“Maybe we could advertise more in the neighboring towns. I could put an ad in the Davidson Gazette and leave some flyers around Rinard College over in Bakersville,” Adam suggested, actually putting some thought into the problem at hand.

“That’s a good start but I’m not sure that’ll be enough,” I sighed.

My mild headache blossomed into a full-blown explosion. I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. Bile rose in the back of my throat and I willed myself not to throw up.

“Are you okay doing the workshop tonight?” Adam asked. “I’ve stayed late the last couple of times and I could use the night off.”

I closed the ledger, not wanting to look at it anymore. I rubbed at my temples, willing the headache away.

“Why? Big plans?”

I knew he wouldn’t tell me. When it came to his personal life, Adam was a closed book.

Just once I wished we could talk to each other like ordinary friends. He could tell me about slaughtering pigeons or vandalizing interstate bridges—whatever weird thing he was into—and I could tell him about…

What?

Beckett?

Why would I tell him about Beckett?

There was nothing to tell!

Dear lord, I was prattling nervously in my head.

That was a bad, bad sign.

“Nothing of significance,” Adam responded vaguely.

I noticed a blond head and blue sweater all but pacing in front of the office.

“Krista? Do you need something?” I called out.

Krista poked her head around the door. “Did you call me?”

Her eyes jumped from me, to Adam, and stayed there.

Hmm…

“Did you want something? I’ve been watching you walk back and forth for the last five minutes.”

I glanced at Adam but he looked completely uninterested.

But if I didn’t know better…

“I was just…uh…going to the toilet.” She flushed and all but ran away.

“That was odd, right?” I asked carefully, looking at my partner and friend who never told me anything.

He shrugged. “So can I leave early? Or is it the butt cancer group tonight?”

“Butt cancer? I don’t have butt cancer!”

“One thing you can strike off the list then.”

Touché, Adam. Touché.

“That’s fine. I’m not expecting a huge turnout. We’ve only had the bookings from Mr. and Mrs. Webber.”

“They’re the only ones that came last time. I’m not sure I can handle their erotic art ever again. Mr. Webber keeps pushing us to sculpt nudes, and I’m tired of explaining there will be no naked people in the studio. Ever.”

I groaned. “If he asks to mold his wife’s boobs out of clay tonight, I’m telling them to leave.”

“It might put a crimp in your plans with lover boy then.” Adam arched his eyebrow and I frowned in confusion.

“Huh?”

Adam leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “That guy from the fucked-up hearts support group. The one who came in here that one time.”

I threw my pencil at him, which he deftly dodged. “Adam, he’s not my lover boy.” I laughed a little maniacally. No sense mentioning our near kiss at the bridge or the way he had held me against him as though he never wanted to let go.

Nope. Not going to mention that at all.

“He’s coming tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I responded, my voice unnaturally high.

“Nicely done, Cor. Slutting it up to drum up business.”

I glared at my friend who looked back at me blandly. “I am not slutting it up, asshole. We’re just friends. Really I don’t even know him. He just said he’d like to come. It’s no big deal. He may not even come. It’s not like he promised or anything. Why are you bugging me about it?” I asked in a rush, the words pouring out like Exorcist-style vomit.

“You like him,” Adam said with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“No I don’t,” I squeaked.

Adam didn’t say anything for a long time. His silence was making me twitchy. I felt the need to fill the void with noise. Any noise. So I started sharpening my pencils. One at a time. When I was finished, I straightened the papers on my desk.

“We met at the support group. Actually, I met him before that. He helped me when I was having a level-ten Corin freak-out in the middle of the sidewalk. I don’t like him like that. We’re just friends. He’s nice to talk to. He’s kind of funny. And he doesn’t laugh at me or look at me like I’m nuts.”

Dear god, I was rambling. I needed to shut up. But my mouth. Just. Wouldn’t. Stop.

“It’s no big deal. We’re friends. We hang out. And text a lot. And sometimes we talk on the phone. And we like to drink tea together. He likes coffee but can’t drink it. So that’s why we drink tea and not coffee. Because you know I hate coffee.”