her fingers, showing her ring. But something dampened her smile. She seemed suddenly broody.
Zoe finished her own beer and decided to order another one as well. After doing so, she asked, “You aren’t happy with your job?”
O’Donnell snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not everyone’s favorite person in the department.”
“I haven’t noticed.”
O’Donnell rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be more perceptive?”
“Why do you think people don’t like you?”
“I’m on the division’s shit list,” O’Donnell said, her tone brimming with sharp edges. “O’Donnell the pariah.”
“Why?”
“My last partner was dirty. He’s under investigation by IA. Suspended.” She pursed her lips, glanced at Zoe, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not dirty, in case you were wondering.”
“Okay. Then what? People think you are?”
O’Donnell shook her head. “They think I ratted him out.”
“Ah.” It was a universal, ancient rule. One of the first things you learned as a kid. Snitches get stitches. People could forgive a lot, but it was hard to forgive a snitch because you never knew when he’d turn on you. Life was full of moments when you needed someone to turn a blind eye, instances when the rules clashed with reality, and nothing was black and white. And the last thing you wanted in a moment like that was to wonder if the person who had your back might stick a knife in it instead.
“They don’t even care what he did,” O’Donnell said vehemently. “It’s all about what they imagine I did. The deals I made with Internal Affairs. How I sold him out. I’m paying for Manny’s mess.”
Zoe nodded. She wanted to say she was sorry but felt that if she did, O’Donnell would bite her head off. “It’ll blow over,” she finally suggested.
“Maybe. If I was a man, it definitely would have. But if a woman’s a snitch, everyone thinks, She’s screwing the guy from Internal Affairs. Or She was screwing Manny, but he dumped her. Or She was screwing Manny and dumped him for the guy from Internal Affairs.”
“You don’t know that’s what they think—”
O’Donnell whipped her head, grimacing, nostrils flaring. “Don’t I? You think people here are subtle? Want to see the note someone left on my desk? Or one of the emails I got?”
Zoe bit her lip, saying nothing.
O’Donnell sighed. “Never mind. You couldn’t possibly know.”
Zoe chose her words carefully. “I know what it’s like to be resented.”
“Well, yeah, maybe, but I really tried, you know? I wanted to be liked.” O’Donnell sipped from her mug and then, realizing what she’d said, hurriedly added, “Not that you didn’t. I mean . . . ugh. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”
Zoe raised an eyebrow. “It’s fine.” She emptied half of her glass.
“I sometimes feel sorry for myself,” O’Donnell said. “It’s not a fetching quality.”
“I never really tried,” Zoe admitted. “I wanted people to like and respect me for who I am. But I can be blunt and insensitive. And it pushes people away. Even people who are close to me.”
O’Donnell fiddled with a beer coaster, slowly peeling it apart. “Tatum seems to get you.”
“For now. But one day I’ll say the wrong thing . . . or maybe it won’t be one thing. Maybe I’ll just erode him.” She was surprised to feel the tremor in her voice. “Just one blunt comment after the other. I’ll exhaust him.”
O’Donnell leaned closer. “Zoe, seriously, the way he looks at you, there’s no way—”
Zoe shook her head. “Forget it. I’m just being stupid.” But she wasn’t; she knew that. It had happened before, with other friends. Now with Andrea, who could hardly talk to her. She felt like she couldn’t explain that feeling to anyone. Except O’Donnell kept looking at her, a tiny reassuring smile on her lips, and maybe she really could understand. Zoe took a long breath. “It’s just that—”
“Speak of the devil,” O’Donnell said, glancing over Zoe’s shoulder.
Tatum walked over to them and plopped himself on the stool, looking very annoyed.
“Everything okay?”
“I probably need to fix the TV,” Tatum said. “Someone broke it. Apparently the remote control ended up in the fish’s bowl. Marvin claims it’s part of a mind game between the cat and the fish. Aren’t cats and fish known as self-sufficient animals?”
Zoe cleared her throat, getting her bearings. “Maybe they are, but grandfathers aren’t.”
“True. So what were we talking about?”
“Who even remembers?” O’Donnell said. “We got a second round.”
Tatum emptied his mug in one long gulp. He put it on the bar and motioned to get the bartender’s attention. “Then I