Page 7 of Set to Love

Taking out my phone, I open a text and send a message to my best friend, Zoe.

Katie

Please tell me you’re free tonight.

Zoe

Depends.

Zoe

Are we talking “wine on the couch” free or “I need help moving a body” free?

The fact that Zoe’s mind even goes there is terrifying. But that’s what I get for being best friends with a true-crime junkie.

I snap a picture of the tickets and send it to her. Three dots dance across the screen immediately as she types.

Zoe

OH. MY. GOSH. ARE THOSE . . .?

She doesn’t even finish the text. Instead, my screen lights up with a call from her. I barely get it to my ear before she screams, “How? When? Please tell me one of those is for me!”

“What do you think?” I deadpan.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re thinking of taking your hot restaurant boyfriend. You know, the British guy?”

“If you mean Theo, the answer is no. That ship sailed a long time ago anyway. There’s no man in my life. Not by a long shot. And even if there were, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

“Fair point,” she says, her voice still buzzing with excitement.

“I texted you because you’re my theatre soulmate. Les Mis is your favorite show. You’d kill me if I went without you. So here’s your invite. Can you come? Tonight at seven?”

“Do you even have to ask? Duh. I’d eat crickets and touch a tarantula for seats like those.”

I laugh. “Good to know for future reference.”

“Do you want to come over to my place to get ready at five and carpool to the theatre?”

I run through the mental checklist of things I’m supposed to do today. Thankfully, it’s Thursday, the one day I give myself off a week. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’d love to be able to actually spread my stuff out and use a mirror that isn’t the size of a postcard.”

“I never do. Especially since you should be living in a real apartment, not your aunt’s converted pool house.”

I don’t comment. Zoe’s right. But when you’re a struggling pro athlete and most of your paychecks go to tournament entry fees, gas, the gym, and court time, you don’t complain about the lack of amenities. Especially when the rent is free.

“Deal. If you drive, I’ll supply dinner,” I offer, moving to grab the bag of flour.

“Perfecto!” she says in a hilariously bad Italian accent. “See you then. And Katie? Bring extra breadsticks if you can.”

“I will. Ciao.” I hang up, feeling a buzz of energy that has nothing to do with caffeine. That’s Zoe sorted. Now all I have to do is convince Lina to join me, which might be a harder sell since it means leaving Randy to run the place on his own.

I send him a quick text.

Katie

Small favor to ask you. Call me when you can.

Knowing my coworker, he won’t bother rolling out of bed until noon, which means I won’t worry about it for a couple more hours.