Page 10 of Crazy Spooky Love

Silence reigns for a moment as we regard each other across the expanse of the wooden desk.

We know each other’s capabilities and weaknesses pretty well, but we’ve never been out-and-out adversaries like this before.

A nostalgic part of my brain likes to think that somewhere deep inside he still feels affection for me, because a sliver of my heart will be forever his.

It’s a small, manageable sliver though, not enough to prevent me from living my life or, please God, from one day loving a man without an ego the size of the moon.

As it stands, we are old lovers and new business rivals, and he is clearly here to psych me out.

“If you give me your key to Scarborough’s house, we’ll say no more about it.

” A small, consolatory smile tips his mouth at one edge, as if he’s offering me a good deal.

He reminds me of a vampire trying to glamour me, and I can well see how he could charm people into letting him into their homes before he sucks their jugular dry for the fun of it.

He has always had a Svengali-like quality, and for a good chunk of my life I was a willing follower in his cult.

Not anymore though, sadly for him. It’s hard to keep your rose-tinted, handmaiden glasses on when your skipper readily discards you for the spotlights and temptation of fame and fortune.

“Not a prayer,” I laugh. “Scarborough gave me the key to that house fair and square. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine. I’ll try to stay out of your hair, if that helps.” I pointedly flick my eyes over his shiny waves.

“It doesn’t.”

I shrug. “Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”

He casts his dark eyes around the office. “Is this whole thing your idea of revenge?”

He really is an ego on legs. “Leo, I hate to break it to you, but I’m over you.

I have been for a long time, so no, hard as this might be for you to believe, my business venture has bugger all to do with you.

” I pause and then amend my sentence to piss him off.

“Unless you count the fact that we’re now rivals. ”

He narrows his eyes at me, and his lip curls as if a hundred derisive thoughts are running amok in his head. No doubt they are, but he keeps them inside for now and settles for shoving his chair back with a flourish as he stands.

“Fine. Have it your own way.”

I nod, standing too, with my arms folded and my chin jutted at a jaunty angle in challenge. “Thank you. I will.”

Our eyes clash, and for a second, I fear I might give in and let him suck my jugular.

“Then may the best man win.”

“Woman,” I say sweetly, throwing him a wink and a smile as he takes his theatrical leave.

I stare at the closed door for a few seconds after he’s gone.

As I listen to his angry footsteps retreat over the cobbles, I’m not sure if I feel unnerved or empowered by the fact that he felt it necessary to come and check us out. A bit of both, I think.

“Lunchtime,” Marina declares when she walks into the office a few hours later, paint in all colors of the rainbow splattered liberally over her apron.

She and Artie arrived back a while ago armed with enough paint and paraphernalia to cover the whole of Babs three times over, and I’ve deliberately left them to it for a couple of reasons.

First, Marina is the artistic one out of the two of us, my input would be minimal and most probably ignored.

She’s strong-willed like that. More important though, I’ve decided this is the perfect staff-bonding exercise for Artie and Marina, a getting-to-know-you over a can of turpentine instead of a bottle of vodka, because he barely drinks and she could leave a sailor for dead in a drinking competition.

Artie follows her in with flamingo-pink paint in his hair and the widest smile I’ve seen on his face so far.

“You should come and see Babs,” he fizzes, animated. “She looks, like, amazing.”

“You’ve met Babs, then,” I say drily.

“Met her? I’ve driven her!”

I look at Marina in alarm.

“Chill.” She shrugs. “Only around the DIY store car park. He wasn’t that bad.”

“I was shocking.” Artie grins.

“You’ll be fine after a few more lessons.” Marina tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles at me, her eyes sparkling. “Come and see it, then, Boss Lady.”

We all troop out to the cobbled cartway at the side of the building to inspect Babs.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, and it’s probably just as well that I didn’t have any firm ideas in mind for a logo, because Marina’s design is something that definitely couldn’t have come from my imagination. Or Artie’s, for that matter.

“It’s…it’s…” I’m struggling to articulate my thoughts. “Marina, it’s fabulous!”

She preens. “It wasn’t just me. Artie helped with the design.

” I look at him standing beside her, a good few inches taller and a considerable amount more paint-splattered.

Judging by the look of them, Marina had been the supervisor and Artie the lackey.

“We started with this,” Marina points to the pink circle that forms the outside of the design, following the cross at the bottom with her finger, “because it means female, and we are.” She glances up at Artie. “Present company excepted.”

He nods, then points out a little sky-blue circle with an arrow, no bigger than my palm. “She let me add this in as long as it’s not noticeable. It means male, because I’m part of the agency too.” His brow furrows suddenly. “You didn’t notice it, did you?”

He holds his breath as his eyes dart toward Marina and then back tome.

I shake my head. “I’d never have noticed it was there if you hadn’t mentioned it.”

I’m not even lying. The small motif is hidden inside Marina’s design.

She’s managed to make it so that the agency name winds in and out of the female sign, bold and feminine, set against two women silhouetted back-to-back in profile holding a retro pose, old school homage to Charlie’s Angels.

I look closer, and it’s not just any two women.

Those silhouettes are us. Perfectly, intricately us.

Not only that. I distinctly remember us striking that pose a couple of years ago for a picture after one or five too many cocktails at a party in Marina’s back garden.

“How did you do that?” I marvel, stepping close to studyit.

Marina shrugs. “Good memory.”

“She had acetate cutouts and everything.” Artie beams.

Marina flicks her eyes to the skies and huffs. “I might have spent a bit of spare time last night working on it.”

I know her better than to make too much fuss. “Well, it was time well spent. It’s perfect.”

Marina nods. “I know.”

Who knew Babs could look so splendid? They’ve touched up her rust spots and given her a polish, and even if I do say so myself, she’s looking as fresh as a lamb in springtime.

It’s only cosmetic of course, she’ll always be held together by rust and little else underneath, but all the same I like that she’s been given a pretty new dress and a second life here with us at the agency.

As we file back inside, I glance into Babs and notice the multicolored Hawaiian garland hanging gaily from the rearview mirror. My eyes meet Marina’s.

“What?” She looks at me in mock challenge, as if she thinks I’m going to say it’s too much. “Every girl needs a good necklace.”

I shrug, and laugh, thankful for her being part of the agency and part of my life. “Thank you. That’s all.”

“She wanted to paint guns in your hands. I vetoed that because I don’t think you can stop a ghost with a bullet,” Artie says, matter of fact, behind us as we head back inside. I laugh under my breath; given Marina’s hot temper, I think he made a good call there.