Chapter 925 Spilling The Beans, Part 1
Free pizza.
Nothing to complain about when it comes to free pizza. Especially when they were still piping hot and fresh.
Ken, the forest ranger, really went above and beyond the call of duty here. Don't think it was in his job description to be out delivering pizzas to random folks, but I'm sure he's just a real hospitable guy is all.
Just loves to put a smile on people's faces, I'm sure. Nothing else to it.
Irene spent a good few minutes chatting him up by the front door, putting on a bubbly, ecstatic demeanor that was designed to win both hearts and awards while I hung back behind, diminishing my very existence to the equivalent of a pair of deer antlers that was mounted over the fireplace.
Inch by inch, and passing remarks one after the next, Ken tried making his way inside the cabin. But Irene remained an impenetrable wall of honey-coated words and distractions. To the point that she's even got me taken with her performance.
And watching her play with Ken over here like puddy in his hands felt like a night and day comparison. Adorably sheepish one moment and mesmerizingly promiscuous to the next. It's like a sexy variation of a yin-yang, y'know?
Okay, scratch that, that was a terrible metaphor.
Needless to say, whatever mood was being developed between us has completely dissipated by Ken's untimely visit. It's not really much of a big deal, I know. But… man… why couldn't he have just dropped by an hour later? Half an hour, at the very least.
What a tragic waste of an opportunity.
After some time, Ken was convinced to go. Apparently, the immense satisfaction of a good deed fulfilled was more than enough for him to take his leave all of a sudden. It's like he completely forgot his entire character motivation for even coming here, and with that level of brainwashing going on, I don't know how Kronocia hasn't been overrun by an entire regime of Irenes.
Anyway, Irene insisted he take his pizza along with, but according to the forest ranger/pizza-delivery guy himself, he wouldn't be accepting any kind of refund, thus, leaving her stranded with an extra large serving balanced in both hands.
"Um, well…" She turned around, her gaze stuck in bewilderment as she took a small peek into the box, before kicking the door close behind her. "You like pineapple on your pizza?"
I just shrugged. "I do if you do."
That's how we wound up with dinner. And how I also wound up making the startling discovery that pineapple pizza wasn't that bad actually. And that I would no longer be believing in any kind of social norms after being egregiously lied to like that.
When there was a single slice left in the box, we got into a huge squabble over it. I told her I didn't want it. She said she didn't either. And we both disagreed with each other. Long story short, I lost. A taste of bitter defeat leaving a sour aftertaste in my mouth.
"Tomorrow's a Sunday," Irene was crouched over the fireplace again, stoking the flames brighter, and casting larger, darker shadows across the living space. "You work on Sunday, right?"
"Half-shift," I said, rubbing off the bread crumbs from my fingers. "Hayley wants to close the shop early to redecorate for the coming season."
"After that?"
"After that, nothing, why?" I asked. "More training tomorrow?"
"Training, no," she rejoined me on the couch, taking a spot one space away from me while the empty pizza box sat between us. "But I'd expect a call or message from Amanda soon if I were you."
"You sound confident. What makes you say that she'll—?"
My right thigh began to buzz. I began to fumble for my phone, while Irene calmly stared at me like some sort of omniscient being knowing every step of past, present, and future.
I read the text that was sent to me; the notion of it all being a mere coincidence immediately leaving my head, six feet under by the Irene chimed in to ask, "So what did she say?"
"There's a movie she wants to see," I muttered, tapping my reply and hitting send. Dumbfounded. "Guess we're going tomorrow."
"That's nice."
"Yeah, um, how did you—?"
Another buzz, pulsating throughout my once-burnt palm. I raised my phone back toward my eyes, reading silently.
"And?" Irene asked again. "What did she say now?"
"Wondering how well I'm fairing with my training with you today," I answered mechanically. "And also winky-face."
"She wants things to stay covert and she sends you a winky face?" she said, clearly talking to herself. "Just what is this woman?"
That's my question. Frankly, that's been my question for the past minute now. And it just keeps getting bigger and bigger with every passing second.
"Okay, how does she know about this? And how did you know that she knew?" I whirled around toward Irene, my eyes wide with scrutiny. "Was that planned? Did you meet with her? Talked to her?" Then a little memory entered my mind, some minute detail I remembered mentioned in passing. "Your important meeting you said you had this morning. Don't tell me…?"
"I'm just surprised you're not in the know yet," Irene remarked, crossing one leg over the other. "Your Elf didn't tell you? She actually managed not to let it slip? That's commendable of her."
"Tell me? Tell me what?" I remembered cornering Ash, I also remember how distressed she looked. Now I'm almost regretting letting her go back then. "What didn't she let slip, Irene? The hell's going on here?"
"Nothing drastic at all, so relax," she said calmly. "Just one of your girlfriends' idea at play. And I don't think I really need to tell you whose it was, do I?"
No. No, she did not. Across the range of the usual suspects, when it came to producing ideas, the finger of blame could only be cast towards one. And let's face it, there were no other suspects to narrow down to anyway.
"Alright, just… lay it all out for me," I said, heaving in a breath of anticipation. "What the hell did she do this time?"
Irene's expression was an assessing one. Every blink of her eyes deep in ponder. Or maybe she just likes keeping in suspense. I can name one girl that certainly does…
"A timetable," she finally said. "Amanda's made you a timetable."
I heard her. I felt her words rattle around in my head. But it seems I've lost all sense of comprehension because I didn't understand a thing she said.
"Timetable…" I said slowly, feeling my face tightened in thought. "Like… like for planning?"
"Like for us," Irene clarified. "All of us. Me, her, and everyone else. We all have our own preassigned special time with you now."
This time, I understood her. Except, this time I didn't want to.
"You're joking."
"That's what I said," Irene sighed, flashing a sympathetic smile. "But you definitely know her better than I do, so you tell me: is it a joke?"
I knew the answer to that one immediately, and because I did, I felt my heart start to sink, and my eyelids start to fall.
"Mmm," Irene shook her head and sighed again. "I thought so."
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