ALICE Ch 225

It’s getting late, but Glynda won’t be going back to the hotel anytime soon.

She doesn’t try to hide her irritation. She’s a mess from a long, profoundly miserable day and needs a shower. Erica is at least too polite to say anything about deodorant.

The journalist leans on Glynda’s desk, staring across it with a look that probably works well on most women. And, it might even work on Glynda under different circumstances.

“Out,” Glynda says, pointing at the door.

“You look rough.”

“I don’t know anything. We can all guess what they spoke about. I’m not going to talk about the car. Those are the only two things you can be after, and it wouldn’t change. Even if we had a ride I still wouldn’t tell you! I’ve things to do!” She points again, more insistently this time. “I’ll chase you out with a bit of wood.”

“I’ve got a bit of wood.”

Glynda gets to her feet, teeth grinding.

Erica backs away, laughing. “All right. All right. Maybe we celebrate tomorrow?”

“You won’t get your bloody story from me.”

“Maybe I just enjoy your company. Your charm,” Erica says, letting herself out.

Fuming, Glynda sits and picks up her phone.

FF1

Lora knows she’s stress eating from the way that her teeth hurt. It’s from biting the spoon. She digs into her ice cream vengefully anyway and lets out a little growl when her phone goes off. She closes her laptop and picks up her phone.

“It’s me,” she says.

“Have you got them under control?” Glynda asks. She sounds just as prickly as she did when Lora left the paddock earlier.

“I told them what you told me to tell them. I won’t police them beyond that,” Lora says firmly.

Glynda hangs up. True enough, the night before the last race was a little… less professional than ideal for all parties. Glynda has asked that the team at least pretend to have some sense this evening and softly imposed a curfew. Lora hopes everyone’s abiding by it, but she’s not about to be a cop. That’s not her job.

She jumps, startled by the knock at her door.

Now even more annoyed, she situates her ice cream and phone and crawls off the bed to get her robe, which she belts tightly. She pushes her hair into place and checks the mirror to make sure her burns are as covered as they can be. Even with a wrap, she can’t believe that she wore a swimsuit around that Canadian hotel. She’d had entirely too much to drink that night. Never again.

Dead sober, she answers her door to find Kylie.

Some people have doppelgangers; sometimes Lora feels as though Kylie is the other thing: her perfect opposite. There’s no self-consciousness at all. She’s walking the halls in a tee and flip-flops.

“Alice says you’re a snitch,” Kylie says without hesitation.

“I had to tell her.”

“I know. She knows.” Kylie shrugs and brushes past her. “Ice cream!”

“There’s a curfew,” Lora reminds her.

“I’d be dying of boredom normally. After, you know… I’m losing my mind. Trust me, I shouldn’t be alone,” Kylie says, taking a big bite of ice cream. “I’m so angry at those stupid Amazons.”

“Would it be better if they’d… you know?” Lora says, blushing.

“Oh, it’d be a billion times worse. Doesn’t matter. I’m still upset. And I can’t see them. I can only spank it so much. Got any edibles?”