Quinn blinked, the heat of the day beginning to sap her energy and what was left of her critical-thinking skills. “You’re not serious. You’re going to teach me how to be Aphrodite? The Goddess of Love? How does one teach someone to be a goddess? How does a man teach a woman to be a goddess? Don’t goddesses wear togas and sit around all day, eating grapes while handing down orders? I can’t wear a toga. I work in a secondhand bookstore, for heaven’s sake. And while casual Friday is pretty casual at Baby Got Book, I think it at least demands pants.”
Before Khristos had the chance to rebut, Ingrid hopped between them, her face red. “Don’t you say another word, Quinn. And you stay away from her, got it, Khristos, descendant of Aphrodite? I’ll handle this from here on out, pal. You just go back to wherever it is you came from.”
Khristos closed his eyes as though he were silently asking for divine intervention before he opened them and smiled pleasantly. “I believe I’ve explained myself. I can’t go away. But you handle this however you see fit…Ingrid, is it? I’ll wait. The end result will still be the same.”
Ingrid glared at him, grabbing Quinn by the arm and smacking into her new boobs as she moved her out of Khristos’s earshot. “Put those things away, would you? They’re everywhere, for Christ’s sake.”
Quinn let her hands drop to her sides, slapping them against her thighs in exasperation. “Where would you like me to put them, Ingrid? There’s nowhere to put them but in a bigger bra. I mean, look at the size of them. Do you think I’m going to be able to breathe when I’m lying on my back? I’m going to suffocate myself with my own lady lumps. Wait. Maybe Shawna knows. I’d bet she’s an expert.”
Khristos stuck his face between the two of them, smiling. “Ooo, gossip. Who’s Shawna?”
“She’s the leggy redhead my ex cheated on me with, and her boobs are enormous. Just like these. Maybe she could offer me some tips?” Quinn said out loud before she was able to stop the words from falling off her tongue.
Ingrid rolled her eyes before giving Khristos a shove with a flat palm to his chest. “I told you to go away! Now do it before I sic my freaky-deaky, very violent friend on you. I swear, if you harm one hair on either of our heads, my friend will eat her way through your colon!”
Khristos made a comically funny sad face. “Already with the threats? Sad panda here. And we’ve just met, too. I was hoping we could be friends, because we’re going to be together for a while—a long while. Plus, I like my colon.”
Quinn fought a hysterical giggle when Ingrid hollered up at him, “Go!”
Ingrid grabbed Quinn by the arm and pulled her in. “Look, forget your boobs and focus,” she whispered. “I’ve been down a similar road before with my bosses. There are things I haven’t told you yet, Quinn. Things you’re going to have a hard time digesting. Things about Nina, Marty, and Wanda you need to know…”
“Cryptic,” Quinn muttered, totally missing what Ingrid was hinting at. But it did bring to mind the CIA covert ops secrecy surrounding her job and begged the question: Why wouldn’t Ingrid ever let her anywhere near where she worked for their study dates?
They met three times a week outside of a nighttime art history class they took together, and had found, over lattes and scones or tuna subs and green tea, that despite their age difference of ten or so years, and though they had little in common but their mutual love of animals, they enjoyed each other’s company. Quinn had witnessed the struggle Ingrid was having in art history, so she’d offered to tutor her.
It would definitely be more convenient for her to meet Ingrid than the other way around. She was done with work by five o’ clock, but Ingrid was only just then taking her dinner break. For her to travel all the way to the bookstore was crazy, and Quinn had told her that on several occasions.
But Ingrid always kept her as far away from her place of work as possible.
And that didn’t explain how Nina could help now. Unless she was tight with Aphrodite—which of course was ludicrous.