that you’re not one of them,” she pointed out. “And they ran into some bad luck.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. I’ll bet that happens a lot around you.”
“Well . . .” Her brow knitted, and she looked severely cute as she pondered. Her blue eyes narrowed and her forehead wrinkled. “I’ve always been lucky . . . but I don’t think that proves anything.”
“Since we’re going to talk for a while—which I’m totally fine with, so don’t sweat it—do you have an apple, or maybe you could fix me a PB&J, or something?”
“Again with the food! You’ve got a lot of nerve, anybody ever tell you that?”
“Pretty much every day, back home. So, do you?”
“I don’t believe this,” she muttered but, praise God, she turned to the counter, plucked an apple out of the bowl, grabbed a knife out of the rack, and rapidly cut the fruit into bite-sized pieces.
She stomped over to him and stuffed three chunks into his mouth.
“Fgggs,” he said.
“You’re welcome. So somebody sent you here to kill me because I’m the reincarnation of Morgan Le Fay, that’s what you’re telling me.” He didn’t answer because it wasn’t an actual question. “And other people are also out to get me, because of this.” He nodded, still chewing. “So I shouldn’t call the cops, I should leave.”
“With me,” he said, swallowing.
“Oh, that’s rich .”
“I figure there’s more to this than meets the eye, y’know? So we should take off and see if we can see what’s what.”
She was cutting up another apple in rapid, angry motions, and he eyed the knife a little nervously; if she got pissed enough to plant it in his eye, he’d probably never howl at the moon again. He was a fast healer, but there was some brain damage that couldn’t be fixed, no matter how close the full moon was.
“See what’s what,” she repeated. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get right on that.” She jammed a few more pieces into his mouth and, although eating cut-up apples had never seemed particularly erotic to him before, the smell of her and the touch of her skin on his lips was starting to, um, cause him a little problem. Okay, a big problem.
He shifted in the chair and wished he could cross his legs. “Look, you get kind of weirded out whenever I suggest that there’s maybe more to you than meets the eye,” he said around a mouthful of apple. “So why don’t you tell me? What happened before today? How come you’re so lucky?”
“I don’t know . I just am. I always have been. My mom used to call me her lucky break.”
“Oh yeah? Where is she now?’
“She’s dead.”
“Oh. Sorry. Mine, too.”
“Gosh, we’ve got all kinds of things in common,” she said, rolling her eyes and shoving another chunk of apple between his lips.
“Meant to be, I guess,” he said, chomping.
“Okay, so, I won the lottery. A couple of times,” she said grudgingly.
“You what ?” He knew she wasn’t lying, but it was still surprising. “More than once?”
“I tend to get . . . windfalls . . . whenever I’m short of money. And once I needed a few thousand to pay for the last quarter of school, and I won the lottery, and it was exactly the amount I needed. And I got a refund one year when I needed some extra money to—but everybody gets tax refunds.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never even met one person who won the lottery, never mind won it twice.”
“Four times,” she muttered.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! And you’re giving me shit like I’m crazy?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she insisted.
“Okay, Morgan—”
“Quit that!”
“—maybe you can explain how, at the exact moment you needed to get me out of the way, I get a freakin’ brain aneurysm , how about that?”
“A happy coincidence?” she guessed.
“For Christ’s sake.”
“Actually,” she said, clearing her throat, “there was a serial rapist in this area a couple years ago. And, um, he got in somehow while I was at school, but when I came home
“Yeah, I’ll bet. I’ll bet that happens a lot around you.”
“Well . . .” Her brow knitted, and she looked severely cute as she pondered. Her blue eyes narrowed and her forehead wrinkled. “I’ve always been lucky . . . but I don’t think that proves anything.”
“Since we’re going to talk for a while—which I’m totally fine with, so don’t sweat it—do you have an apple, or maybe you could fix me a PB&J, or something?”
“Again with the food! You’ve got a lot of nerve, anybody ever tell you that?”
“Pretty much every day, back home. So, do you?”
“I don’t believe this,” she muttered but, praise God, she turned to the counter, plucked an apple out of the bowl, grabbed a knife out of the rack, and rapidly cut the fruit into bite-sized pieces.
She stomped over to him and stuffed three chunks into his mouth.
“Fgggs,” he said.
“You’re welcome. So somebody sent you here to kill me because I’m the reincarnation of Morgan Le Fay, that’s what you’re telling me.” He didn’t answer because it wasn’t an actual question. “And other people are also out to get me, because of this.” He nodded, still chewing. “So I shouldn’t call the cops, I should leave.”
“With me,” he said, swallowing.
“Oh, that’s rich .”
“I figure there’s more to this than meets the eye, y’know? So we should take off and see if we can see what’s what.”
She was cutting up another apple in rapid, angry motions, and he eyed the knife a little nervously; if she got pissed enough to plant it in his eye, he’d probably never howl at the moon again. He was a fast healer, but there was some brain damage that couldn’t be fixed, no matter how close the full moon was.
“See what’s what,” she repeated. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get right on that.” She jammed a few more pieces into his mouth and, although eating cut-up apples had never seemed particularly erotic to him before, the smell of her and the touch of her skin on his lips was starting to, um, cause him a little problem. Okay, a big problem.
He shifted in the chair and wished he could cross his legs. “Look, you get kind of weirded out whenever I suggest that there’s maybe more to you than meets the eye,” he said around a mouthful of apple. “So why don’t you tell me? What happened before today? How come you’re so lucky?”
“I don’t know . I just am. I always have been. My mom used to call me her lucky break.”
“Oh yeah? Where is she now?’
“She’s dead.”
“Oh. Sorry. Mine, too.”
“Gosh, we’ve got all kinds of things in common,” she said, rolling her eyes and shoving another chunk of apple between his lips.
“Meant to be, I guess,” he said, chomping.
“Okay, so, I won the lottery. A couple of times,” she said grudgingly.
“You what ?” He knew she wasn’t lying, but it was still surprising. “More than once?”
“I tend to get . . . windfalls . . . whenever I’m short of money. And once I needed a few thousand to pay for the last quarter of school, and I won the lottery, and it was exactly the amount I needed. And I got a refund one year when I needed some extra money to—but everybody gets tax refunds.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never even met one person who won the lottery, never mind won it twice.”
“Four times,” she muttered.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! And you’re giving me shit like I’m crazy?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she insisted.
“Okay, Morgan—”
“Quit that!”
“—maybe you can explain how, at the exact moment you needed to get me out of the way, I get a freakin’ brain aneurysm , how about that?”
“A happy coincidence?” she guessed.
“For Christ’s sake.”
“Actually,” she said, clearing her throat, “there was a serial rapist in this area a couple years ago. And, um, he got in somehow while I was at school, but when I came home
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