Page 58 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
“Oh no, it’s something much better,” Goldie assured her, pressing both hands to her chest as if she were trying to contain her excitement.
My spine locked up immediately.
“This will be fun!” Martha shimmied in her seat. An actual shimmy.
I didn’t think Martha knew what the wordfunreally meant. “Fun,” I repeated, “is a relative term.”
Coco trotted between the chairs, paused at my feet, and gazed up at me with an expression of profound disappointment.
I stared back. “Why are you judging me?”
Delaney snorted. “Because she has eyes.”
Glamma fanned out a new stack of cards like she was about to do a magic trick. “We’re playing a game.”
Delaney finally turned around. “What kind of game?”
“One that lets us see how well you two know each other.”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Oh, yes,” Glamma replied, using the same tone she used to use on the old mayor when she was telling him to stop being stupid at the town hall meetings.
I scoffed. “We barely know each other. We can’t even stand to be in the same room together without arguing for long.”
Delaney nodded in agreement.
“We’ll separate the two of you to start,” Gladys said, pushing through our futile efforts to not participate. “You’ll each answer questions about the other, and then we’ll reveal your responses.”
Delaney’s face shifted from suspicious to horror in a matter of seconds. Her gaze cut to mine. “Are you—” She glanced at the cards, then at Glamma. “Are you seriously having us play theNewlywed Game?”
“We are not newlyweds,” I said, the words coming out strangled.
“We are notanything,” Delaney finished. Her cheeks reddened, and fire blazed in her eyes.
“No one said you were.” Gladys pointed her pen at us, giving us a look that suggested we were the ones being ridiculous.
Martha tipped her head as though in deep thought. “Although, statistically, with the percentage of single people in this town?—”
“Stop,” Delaney demanded, her voice shrill.
Glamma waved a hand. “It’s not for romance. It’s partnership bonding. You’re building a successful event, you need to know how the other one works.”
“That’s what spreadsheets and practice run-throughs are for,” I muttered.
“And email,” Delaney added.
“And a healthy professional distance,” I offered.
The four women observed us like we were mildly entertaining.
Coco barked once.
“I agree, my sweets.” Glamma scooped her up and kissed her head.
“I need to formally object to this,” Delaney said.
“Objection noted,” Goldie said, already standing, clipboard tucked under one arm. “And denied.”
