The Heist by Will McIntosh

want to keep his interest. Romance 101, Sylvie!
      My friend Suk thinks it’s a mistake.
      Does Suk have a master’s degree in Interpersonal Relationships from NYU? Veronika shot back. She didn’t like playing the degree card, because this job was so much about instinct, but the comment got her hackles up.
     After a pause, Sylvie sent back, Give me something else. Something nice !
     “Oh for God’s sake,” Veronika said aloud. “This bird needs to get out of my nest and flap her own damned wings. Too much longer and it’s going to be so obvious she had a coach when they finally meet in person.”
     Nathan chuckled sympathetically, breaking the chuckle into two parts as he wove it around the subvocalized conversation he was having with one of his own clients. Nathan’s vocal style was a variation on La Lune—very jazzy, very sexy.
     “I hate working in real time,” Veronika said, while feeding Sylvie a few flirtatious lines. “When you’re having a live screen conversation, you’re implicitly claiming all of your material is original. At that point using a coach is cheating.”
     “It’s all cheating,” Nathan said. “Getting us to create their profiles in the first place is cheating.”
     “It’s cheating, but it’s not dishonest cheating. It’s like nudging other people’s systems so you look ten pounds lighter and an inch taller to them. Everybody does it.”
     Nathan didn’t take the bait. Definitely not himself; normally he couldn’t resist a good argument.
     “You okay? You seem a little down.”
     Nathan sighed heavily. “I thought I was masking it. Guess not.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’m not ready to talk about it. I need to work through it first. Unpack it.”
     “Oh. Okay. I understand.” This was going to bother her now. She knew herself. She’d spend half the night running through scenarios of what it might be.
     “So how are you?” Nathan asked, lacing his hands behind his head and stretching. “Been on any hot face-to-faces?”
     Veronika felt herself flush. “Yeah. A different bronco every night last week.”
     Nathan sighed a little tune. “Get out there. See some men.”
     Veronika didn’t bother to respond. Nathan knew she wasn’t dating, and she didn’t want to hear yet again how weird it was for a dating coach to be so starkly single. Yes, it was pathetic. Yes, if her clients ever found out, they’d dump her immediately. And yes, it had been almost five years since Sander smashed her heart, way past time to climb back on that old horse. She was sick of hearing it. There was enough stress and disappointment in her life as it stood. Working behind the scenes for someone else was like a fluid puzzle, but a face-to-face, sitting across from a man, live, was a different story. Her wit abandoned her. The deep, relentless melancholy that was her default condition was as evident on her face as a fist-size pimple.
     Nathan’s fingers flicked the air, probably tweaking a profile for one of his clients. “Maybe you should hire a coach.” It was an old joke between them.
     Veronika’s cup chirped, indicating her seat-time was up. She checked the time, decided she had plenty, and let the cup chirp down until it defaulted to a refill and automatically debited her account.
     “How about you? Any new prospects?” She watched his face. She was fishing, hoping to get a clue to what was bothering him. “What am I saying? You’ve always got new prospects lined up; it’s like a conga line.” Nothing—not even a smile.
     Nathan shrugged, shook his head. “I’m taking a break for a while, too.”
     Veronika studied his face. “You can’t still be getting over that teacher, can you? It’s been, like, two days.”
     Nathan covered his mouth with both hands and looked down at his coffee. Veronika canted her head, studying his face. He looked close to tears.
     He cleared his throat, raised his head to look at Veronika. “She died. Winter