Free Whenever You Call by Anna King Page B

how women get stalked and killed. Promise me you’ll stop e-mailing him.”
    There was no question that Jenny was right. No question at all. What kind of person doesn’t reveal their name and says mysterious things like that they’re unknowable? So I promised and we hung up the phone.
    I immediately went inside and down the stairs to check whether Mr. Rabbitfish had responded to my last e-mail, in which I’d recommended that he not read one of my novels. I tried to control the crow of delight when I saw he had.
    Too late.
    A thrill, which is not unlike a trill, zipped over my body. He was reading one of my books. I wondered which one. I wondered what he thought. As usual, his e-mail gave nothing away. Entirely impossible to discern his opinion, though on the whole, I decided the terseness suggested disapproval.
    My promise to Jenny forgotten, I had my honor to uphold.
    You’re a very annoying person, if you are a person and not an actual rabbitfish.
    Then, because I was agitated, I googled rabbitfish and learned more about their species than I wanted to know. “The fox-faced rabbitfish is a hardy, pretty, common, and cheap fish that is a great addition to a saltwater aquarium. In addition, it is active, large yet peaceful, and exceptional at eating algae. The only drawback is they’re poisonous, but if care is taken, it isn’t a problem.” Of course, as a literary type, I analyzed the description of a rabbitfish with the person, Mr. Rabbitfish. The reference to a rabbitfish’s poison caused me to remember the promise to Jenny. But, too late, my Mail gave a dinging noise.
    I know.
    I had 25 drink recipes to memorize. I had to go for a run. There was dinner to be made or somehow achieved. Just as I was trying to decide whether to answer him one last time , the ding of mail received sounded again.
    I am a rabbitfish, most definitely. Your first clue.
    Without my being aware of it, my hands rose to my breasts and again weighed them. Then I squeezed. Whoever he was, dangerous or not, he had utterly seduced me. Your first clue.
    To what? To his identity? To finding love? Your first clue. I couldn’t resist the game.

8
    W OULD YOU LIKE TO have lunch today?”
    Surprised by Al’s voice, as I was quickly shuffling through a review of the drinks we were to be tested on that morning, I jumped. “Sure.”
    He touched my arm, then went to begin class.
    Jelly came in and sat down at my table. She said, “Did you study a lot?”
    I shook my head. “Not that much. There were a bunch of obscure drinks that I doubt are vital to my success as a bartender.” Glancing down at my papers, I said, “Who ever heard of the ‘3 Wise Men?’”
    “Damn—what’s in that again?”
    “A third Jim Beam, a third Johnny Walker, a third Jack Daniel's.”
    “Is that some kind of a joke?”
    “Maybe,” I muttered.
    While Al passed out the test papers, I looked around at the others. Ike was picking his nose. Almost picking his nose. He was doing one of those maneuvers where someone pretends they’re scratching or something, but in reality, they’re picking their nose. The twins were feverishly turning the pages of their pamphlets as if, in the seconds remaining, they would magically learn the recipes. I had a bad feeling about this class of aspiring bartenders.
    I finished my test first, gave it to Al, and went to the bathroom. When I came back, Al was insisting that everyone stop writing. Then he collected the tests, passed them out again so that we each got someone else’s, and we went over the correct answers. I was grading Cathy, who got something wrong in every single recipe, including the one for gin and tonic. She kept spying on me, because she could see that I had her paper, and giving me gruesome looks. Diligent, I marked everything wrong that was wrong and figured she would have me killed by this weekend. I’d have to ask Al, as a special favor, not to give me one of her tests tomorrow.
    When we got our own tests back, I’d