She and Agnes eventually made their way to a restaurant. It was dark out, and the weather was cold enough that they found open seats outside despite how perpetually crowded the West End Market was.

  Cold or not, it was lovely. They sat at a wrought iron table with plenty of fluer de lis embellishments and comfortable outdoor cushions tied onto the seat and back. They were in the outdoor area, not far from the benches, wooden lounge chairs, and little stretches of grass for people to sit with their dogs and play corn hole.

  They were munching on appetizers when, without any warning, the older woman leaped to her feet with a cry. "Candy Genandoah!"

  Shilloh turned around in her seat. She had gotten the old beast to leave the bar and go to a restaurant in the West End Market. She would have much preferred to go to a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that didn't sell alcohol, but leaving the bar had become a priority. The old bat had started pulling a cling-wrapped mass of cookies (her cookies!) from her bag and giving them to strangers.

  It had ended up with some thirty-year-old fitness-model-looking woman talking to Agnes in a distinctly flirty manner about how men just couldn't understand a woman's body. The gorgeous woman proceeded to lament about what a shame it was that Clint wasn't out here showing his lady the time of her life.

  Paying more for fancy food had been worth escaping that situation. Or at least it had seemed like it at the time.

  Now she watched as Birch, Nick, and the pretty blonde woman from just a few nights ago walked in. Nick, like always, was wearing a black tee shirt and shorts that came in two flavors: cargo or still unfashionable but snug around his thighs. The blond woman, Kamora, was a riot of colors. Her hair had pink streaks, her shoes were a shiny blue, her skirt matched the shoes, and she wore tights that had neon pink bones printed on them. Add in a fuzzy green sweater that had been shrunk into a crop top, and she looked like a bubble gum addict who cried to pop ballads.

  Birch was wearing snug jeans—probably expensive—lovely shoes, a dark blouse that could have been casual or formal, and a wine-red sports jacket. She walked in like she owned the place but transitioned into a shameless stampede when she recognized Agnes.

  "Mrs. DeSong!" the short, impish woman called, holding her arms out for a hug.

  "Ms. DeSong, these days. But really, just call me Agnes, Deary."

  The two embraced, and Birch babbled as if she were meeting her favorite pop star. "Oh my God! I am so happy to see you! How have you been? Did you kill your husband? Can I get your phone number?"

  Around that time, Nick reached them at his much more sedate pace.

  "Hey, Shilloh."

  "Hey Nick," she said, eying the brown-haired, impish woman as she held Agne's hand with both of hers and yammered. "Uhh, should we, like, separate those two? I don't know how well you know Agnes, but I doubt this will end well."

  Birch whipped around, "No. I refuse. Ms. DeSong—"

  "Agnes," the old woman corrected her.

  "Agnes is the best person in this entire town, and I refuse to let you hog her." She turned back to the old woman, "unless it would bother you, that is. I don't want to intrude on your plans. Would you be interested in having us join you for dinner?"

  "I would absolutely love it, Candy. But you may want to introduce me to your friends first."

  They all grabbed chairs from nearby tables and sat down. Shilloh tuned to Nick and mouthed the name 'Candy' with an implied question mark.

  He nodded, confirming that it was, in fact, Birch's nickname.

  "Everyone," Birtch beamed," this is Agnes. I'm sure you've heard me talk about her before. She's my role model and saved my life when I was younger."

  "Stop that," the white-haired old lady said, smacking Birch's arm. You would have figured it out eventually."

  There was a round of inquisitive looks, and Birch was all too happy to explain. "It's a long story. But Agnes saw me dating someone awful when I was young. She gave me homemade seven-layer bars and talked to me for hours. It absolutely changed my life. I broke up with him that night and started to become the woman ("Nightmare," Nick whispered) you see before you now. Also, lube. I cannot see an industrial-sized barrel of lube without tearing up and thinking of Agnes."

  The grandmotherly woman waved the whole thing away modestly and offered them snickerdoodles. Shilloh's snickerdoodles, the two-faced old hag.

  "Anyway," Birch said, "these are my best friends. This is Nick. He runs a store full of supplies and gives advice to wizards about complicated rituals. He's not a local, but it's in his favor if you know what I mean. Also, has a dick so big that I once saw a horse stop eating hay so it could cover its dangle in shame."

  "Oh really now," Agnes said, a light kindling in her eyes.

  "No," Nick said, calmly leaning forward to shake her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agnes. Birch is just paying me back because I teased her earlier this week."

  "Shame. Cookie?"

  "Never say no to a DeSong cookie," Birch advised. "So, that was Nick' Hammer Dick'. Also known as 'Stretcher,' 'Dolphin Dong", 'Cervix Whisperer,' and 'Oh-my-god-how-is-it-poking-my-eye-from-across-the-room.' Next to him is Kamora. She is a freelancer and not local either."

  "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

  "Likewise. Cookie?"

  "I'd love one."

  "And where are you from, Deary?"

  "Oh, you know, further west."

  Birch sat down right next to Agnes and beamed. "Oh, and in case anyone didn't know, this is Shilloh. We accidentally became friends. She's part of the gang now, and I'm still a little pissed about it. But she has a really cool kitty—"

  "Full-grown lynx," Nick objected.

  "A sweet little baby kitten," the crazy woman insisted.

  Shilloh raised a glass of water like a cocktail: "Hello, gang. It's Shilloh. I'm confused, tipsy, and wanted to be asleep two hours ago."

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The drinks had soothed her just enough to let her sense that dealing with Birch was like being hit by a car: you relaxed as much as possible, took the hit, and tried to figure out what had been broken once you were able to stand up again.

  Plus, having friends was a nice change.

  Shilloh didn't avoid relationships per se. A cover story and a life weren't mutually exclusive. But lying was poison to the soul. After a few uncomfortable breakups, it all felt too overwhelming. In the painful and sneaky way such things happen, being alone had slowly become her new normal.

  A waiter rushed to their table and spent some time buttering up Birch. Maybe he was an ex, or the crazy bitch had complained to his manager before. Either way, everyone received white glove treatment as they put in orders, and Kamora started talking to Agnes.

  "It really is great to meet you," Kamora said, her manner being oddly sedate and disinterested considering the way she dressed," Birch passed on some of the tips you gave her for whips, and I've gotta say, it completely changed my life. I would have arthritis if not for you."

  "Oh wonderful," Angel beamed. "Ergonomics are vital. We're all doing this for fun after all."

  "Well, sometimes it's for business and not for pleasure."

  Shilloh tuned the two out and turned to Birch.

  "What's up with this 'Candy' business."

  "My parents owned a candy shop when I was younger," she shrugged. "Also, I come to West End all the time. I pretty much own this place."

  Shilloh laughed, "Love the modesty."

  But she was quickly distracted when Kamora asked her to lend a hand to show some funky knot that took two hands to tie but three to untie.

  ~~~

  They left the restaurant and headed in the general direction of Nick's shop. Her car was by the courthouse/town hall area since she had a free parking pass. Everyone else had carpooled or parked behind Nick's store.

  It was late. They had been out so long that she didn't even have a buzz anymore. Which meant she gravitated to Nick. Not only was he familiar and an oasis of calm in a choppy sea of eccentricity, they were also the designated drivers.

  She liked Birch well enough, her cute hero worship for Agnes was very endearing. Apparently, they were going to travel together and have tremendous adventures. Again, she liked Birch, but not so much that her drunk shenanigans were charming yet. They needed more time for that level of irrational affection to take root.

  "This is what you call volunteering?" the bald man asked.

  Shilloh sighed, "There was a brief period where I actually was volunteering. But then Agnes came back for a couple weeks. We got along, and they were willing to do anything to make sure she kept getting her prescription."

  "And it ended up like this?" he waved back at the gaggle of women trying to whistle the melody of a song whose name they couldn't remember, hoping it would jog their memory.

  She sighed, "Yeah. We spend just enough evenings being calm that I convince myself that she won't drag me out drinking again."

  Birch had started calling her name, but she ignored it. She probably just wanted to sing to her again.

  "How often does this happen?"

  Before she could respond, Birch physically grabbed her shoulder and tried hauling her around.

  "What," she snapped, shrugging off the hand and glaring.

  But Birch wasn't looking at her, she had her eyes fixed across the street. There, a woman of medium height stood by a street lamp. She was very obviously dressed up for date night and waiting for a ride.

  The problem was that the woman in question was Kora.

  "Oh, no," Shilloh groaned.

  "Oh, yes," Birch said with a predatory baring of teeth. "Quick, Kamora, use your secret kung fu."

  "I don't have secret kung fu," said the blond, her hair messy and an arm slipped through one of Agne's.

  "Sure. Sounds like something you would say if you wanted to keep your kung fu a secret."

  Very quickly, Birch became distracted from the original issue. She tried to throw slow-motion punches and kicks at her much taller friend as a way of 'tricking' Kamora into revealing her, 'secret training.'

  But the damage was already done. Birch had stared obviously enough that Kora had noticed them.

  The woman was neither tall nor short, and neither pretty nor ugly. She had lovely black hair and clear skin with only minor acne scars. Her limbs were long and thin and centered around a slightly pudgy belly. All in all, she seemed like she could be very beautiful if she had the right clothes, better posture, or a photographer positioned at just the right angle.

  Unfortunately, Kora's clothes were atrocious. Her dress was meant to be shiny and slinky, but fit wrong. There were loose pieces of fabric where it should have been tight as well as panty and bra lines where it should have been smooth. Her face was caked with makeup, her nails were improbably long, and she had a variety of jewelry that Shilloh, unfortunately, found herself liking despite her best efforts. She was not in the mood to notice redeeming qualities. Which made her feel immediately awful.

  Worst of all, the woman had started crossing the street and was marching towards them with a clutch (that was not at all matched to her shoes) clenched in her hand.

  "Problem?" Nick asked, seeming more resigned than concerned.

  "No, she's been catty for ages, and Birch just let me know why recently. I'll handle it."

  He nodded, a glimmer of relief showing on his face.

  Shilloh squared her shoulders, reminded herself that Niko was the problem, and tried to greet the other woman with a smile.

  "Hey, Kora. Nice to see you. Ignore Birch, she's drunk, and we're walking her—"

  "Get the fuck out of here," Kora snapped, stalking just to the edge of Shilloh's personal space

  Oh no, she had to leave and not put up with this bullshit. What a horrible turn of events. Shilloh held herself back from cheering. "Well, when you say it like that, I guess we'll just be on our—"

  She had already started spreading her arms to shepherd everyone towards Nick's store when Kora muttered something under her breath. It was just loud enough to be heard. "Yeah, better run away with your old ass, ugly ass grandma."

  Her feet stopped, and her fists clenched. Something deep inside the petite cartographer tried desperately to take the wheel and choose violence. She did not like things happening to Her People. But, with a saint's patience, she resisted and decided to keep moving everyone away.

  Which made it as much a surprise to her as to everyone else when she heard her voice speak, "Kora, that was uncalled for. Agnes has nothing to do with this. I didn't even know what was happening between you and Niko until I was told last week. So, I'm sorry if you're upset, but let's clear things up once and for all. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I have never been interested in—"

  "I don't give a fuck what you meant to do!" the woman stormed forward. "You made me look like some dumb cuck because you just had to suck your way into a discount bag of weed. Well, too bad for you. Niko is officially locked down. He has all he needs here," she waved at her lumpy sausage skin dress," and you can keep your fish-smelling, frumpy, skank ass away from both of us."

  Shilloh felt a sort of mental whiplash. An apology to Agnes was all she was after. Poorly dressed or not, Kora was another woman. And she was not so far gone as to let another woman be jerked around by an asshole.

  They should have ended up mutually reviling Niko. That was The Rule.

  "Whatever will end this," she said through gritted teeth, trying not to snap back over being called frumpy by Kora of all people." We can all ignore each other and put this whole thing to bed."

  Kora smirked, "Sure. Yeah, whatever. You can run off and find some other man who likes your frumpy, cargo shorts-wearing, boxy ass. I'll stay right here so long as you keep away from what's mine."

  Exactly on cue, a car pulled up to the street light Kora had been waiting at. In a rush of panicked limbs, Niko spilled out of his car. His hair was spiked with far too much product, and he looked worse for it. His usual loose pants were replaced with even looser jeans bearing random embellishments and rips. All bellow a red brand-name pollo.

  Kora turned to him with a smirk, "Hey, Baby. Don't worry, I just had to clear up—"

  "What are you doing! Shilloh, are you alright?"

  He rushed across the street, holding out his hands like he expected her to fall into them.

  It was a horrible moment frozen in time. She could see everything.

  Kora visibly went from smug satisfaction to shock, hurt, and incandescent rage. Birch was grinning and leaning against Kamora, who was tapping away at her phone, not interested at all. Agnes was digging in her purse, and Nick just looked uncomfortable.

  "No!" Shilloh said, holding out a hand to stop the onrushing drug dealer. "Nope. Not doing this. That's your date. I'm leaving. Come on everyone let's—"

  A shrill cry tore through the air, "You jealous bitch! Why are you trying to embarrass me like this!"

  Shilloh tried to ignore the hubbub and hustle toward Birch, whose expression had fallen from pure schadenfreude into concern.

  Some instinct made her lean forward as something whooshed behind her head.

  She spun around and saw Sheryl swinging her clutch and clawing from where Nikko had hauled her backward. The other woman was not really trying to escape his grip, she just had her eyes locked on Shilloh and was making a display of hissing out obscenities and swiping.

  "Fuck you, whore!" the other woman shouted. "I'll cut you and your bitch ass grandma too!"

  And, with that, the voice that she had being chained down in the back of Shilloh's head won.

  She chose violence.