Page 112 of Chicago Sin

“Josie,” I start, my voice coming out like a bark.

“Yeah?” She tucks her purse behind the counter and comes over.

“Can we talk?” The flapping wings in my belly grow more wild.

I swear I see the same anxiety I feel on Josie’s face.

Oh God. I don’t know if I can do this.

“You know I love you, right?”

She goes still. She’s wearing a bronze highlighter on the tops of her cheekbones and forehead that make her look like a model. I’m actually not sure why she isn’t a model, come to think of it. She’s got the beauty and the height.

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. Almost scared.

Shit.

I’m scared too. That’s why I’ve put off this talk for so long. I don’t want to lose my best friend. I don’t want to hurt or offend. But if I don’t change things, I’m going to end up hating her. I think about Armando just forcing me to say why I was mad. It had been a good thing. Maybe this would be too.

“I don’t know if you working here is the best thing for our friendship.” I get it out all in one burst, like the air rushing out of a balloon.

Her eyes widen. “Yeah,” she says, sounding sort of surprised.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, mainly because I’m taken aback by her yeah.

She runs her thumbnail over the workbench surface, eyes down. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for a while.” Her voice is low and sorry.

I blink. “You have?”

She nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to leave you in the lurch, you know? This place is everything to you, and you’re working so hard. I don’t want to abandon you, but… the flower shop isn’t really my gig. I want to get back to interior design, but I’m not going to put myself out there if I keep telling myself you need me.”

Relief pours through me, mingled with a little hurt. “Right. You were just helping me out. Of course this isn’t your gig.”

“And you were helping me,” she says firmly. She’d been depressed after getting laid off from her apprenticeship when I offered her the job. She was good at interior design. I figured she’d love flowers, too. We both wanted to help each other. But it makes sense that this job is holding her back from her dreams.

“So… you’ll find something else?”

She nods. “If that’s okay with you. I’m sorry—I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks, but it never seemed like the right time. My stomach’s been in knots every time I was here.”

“Oh my God,” I let out a laugh. “That was yours!” I rub my own belly, and suddenly, now that I’ve identified its source, the nervous feeling is gone. “I was feeling it with you!”

Josie shakes her head. “You are so weird. Like sci-fi weird.”

“I know. Star Trek—I’m Gem, the empath who steals other people’s pain. Only I don’t really take it out of them, I just feel it too. It’s such a useless ability. Like why couldn’t I be able to see ghosts or predict the future or something? Being an empath isn’t a superpower, it’s a handicap.”

Josie pulls me in for a hug. “It’s a superpower. You just haven’t figured out how to use it yet. Now, what can I do to help today?”

“Casket flowers. I think Armando ordered this mortuary to give me business. The guy called and said he understood I’d be the flower shop he’d be dealing with from now on.” I open my eyes wide and cover my exaggerated “O”-shaped mouth.

“Oh my God! Married to the mob has its advantages.”

“I’m not married. But um, yeah. He makes things happen, that’s for sure.”

Josie clucks her tongue. “I never would’ve put you with a guy like that, but you know what? I can see how it works.”

“You can?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, aren’t Italians supposed to be so passionate? And you’re Ms. Emotional. So that works.”