Free A Taste of Love and Evil by Barbara Monajem

shoveled their breakfast into Styrofoam containers and bitched. “Rose is so nice, and incredibly brave, and yet you’ve been rude to her ever since you met.”
    “Did she tell you that?” he asked, on the defensive and supercilious because of it.
    “Don’t be a jerk, Jack! Don’t even pretend to be a jerk.”
    “Cindy, don’t make me out to be anything special.”
    “You are special! You have a responsibility not to be messed up. There aren’t enough good people around. I don’t know what Rose has done to deserve your being so unkind, but—”
    “Exactly. You don’t know, so butt out.” Oh, shit. He handed her a napkin. “Cindy, don’t cry. You don’t understand.”
    “You’re right, I don’t.” Cindy blew her nose. “Tell me, and maybe I will. What has she done to you?”
    She forced me out of camo. She helped herself to my blood. But he couldn’t tell Cindy that. Fortunately, she was perfectly ready to keep on talking.
    “You and Rose work so well together. Look how you took those two guys down.”
    A fluke. Two flukes. Three, counting this morning. Besides, he worked alone.
    Cindy poured orange juice and coffee and kept on trucking. “You know who gets the credit for that? She does, because she put up with your crap for a good cause.”
    “Hey,” he said feebly, “I have to put up with her, too.” But Cindy only narrowed her eyes, so he said, “I’m sorry, but it’s none of your business. It’s between Rose and me.”
    “Then do something about it, you big dope,” Cindy said.
    Back in their booth, Rose watched Juma unearth a bottle of truly horrible nail polish from her bag. The girl had a senseof style—her clothing and artfully cut black hair showed that. But the purple polish was ghastly. Still, fresh ghastly was better than chipped.
    Juma shook the bottle. “I’m scared of Jack.”
    “Don’t bullshit me,” Rose said. “I’m already on your side. There’s nothing scary about Jack.”
    “There is too! You heard what he said. One measly chance! Nobody can be that perfect. Even a little white lie for a really good reason doesn’t get past him.” Juma grimaced as she repainted her nails. “And those harsh eyes of his totally creep me out.”
    Huh, Rose thought. That’s one thing I really like about Jack. But there was no point liking anything at all about him, so she told Juma, “Lies get complicated. It’s better to stick with the truth.”
    “Not when nobody cares what you think, or feel, or want. Not when they think the truth is impossible.” Her eyes met Rose’s and dropped again. Doggedly, she coated each dreadful nail.
    Rose said, “If I promise not to think it’s impossible, will you tell me what’s going on?”
    “Maybe,” Juma said.
    “I am doing something about it.” Jack hovered inside the kitchen door, itching to be gone. “I’m going to thank her for the help, say good-bye, and move on with my life.”
    Cindy stuffed the containers into paper bags and flung cutlery, salt, and pepper in after them. “I believe in giving people a second chance.”
    “Look where that got you,” Jack said. It was a low blow. What was up with him today?
    She rammed the cups of coffee and orange juice into cup holders. “I said a second chance, not a hundredth. I know where I went wrong, and I’m not afraid to admit it. I’m not afraid to change.” When he said nothing, she put her nosein the air and pushed through the swinging kitchen doors into the restaurant. “Suit yourself.”
    “I’ll do exactly that,” Jack said, “if those trucker friends of Rose’s hurry up and bring back my Jeep.”
    “What do you mean, you disabled the Jeep?” Rose shot a glance toward the kitchen doors. Jack still hadn’t emerged. “I asked you to hide it, not hurt it.”
    “Whoops,” the burly trucker said. “Does this mean I won’t get my kiss?”
    “What did you do to it?” Rose demanded, hands on hips, frowning him down.
    “Well, ma’am, we figured the bad guys