Free A Deal With the Devil by Abby Matisse

worked at the right place, even six months could help her power down some bills. Granted, her skills were a little rusty, but schlepping a tray with drinks was probably a lot like riding a bike. It would come back to her.
    Maybe Rob could hire her once his restaurant opened. After all, she’d helped fund the damned thing. Employing her seemed the least he could do since she knew he’d never actually pay her back. Despite her foul mood, Amanda giggled as she imagined her irresponsible brother as her part-time employer.
    Her laughter died away. It was impossible. Not only would she be tempted to kill Rob—which, given his status as her last living relative, she’d rather not do—the truth was her day job didn’t allow her the flexibility. On a good day she worked ten hours, many days went longer and between the long hours, last minute client catastrophes and frequent travel, a night job seemed next to impossible.
    Amanda waggled the pen. This little brainstorm session wasn’t going very well. She couldn’t even come up with another viable option beyond waiting tables, which she’d already deemed impossible. She couldn’t do retail either as it would require too many hours and she’d never earn the kind of money she needed to pay off her six figure debt. She could always go for Jake’s fake engagement idea. After all, he had told her to name her price, so clearly he was as desperate as she. But would he be willing to fork over a hundred grand?
    Her cell buzzed.
    She glanced at the display and pressed the button to connect. “Hi.”
    “You said you’d call with an update,” Kate said.
    “It’s only been” —Amanda checked her watch— “an hour and a half.”
    “A lot can happen in ninety minutes.”
    Amanda set the notebook in her lap and sighed. “A lot did happen, I guess. The electricity went out. I helped Jake haul wood to the porch and, in the process, I nearly broke my ankle.”
    “I don’t feel the teensiest bit sorry for you,” Kate said, her sugary Alabama drawl enlarged her haughty tone. “Girls aren’t supposed to carry wood.”
    Amanda rolled her eyes and tapped the pen on her notebook. “I must have missed the memo. Be sure to include me in the distribution next time.”
    “All women know this,” Kate sniffed.
    “Now you sound like Jake. But you might be right. I think I ruined my boots.” And given her money situation, she couldn’t afford to replace them. The thought made her even crankier.
    “Amanda Wilson, do not tell me you traipsed through the snow in your new Stuart Weitzman boots—the ones with those cute little kitten heels.”
    “You always say my full name when you’re pissed,” Amanda said. “And in case you wondered, it’s super-irritating. Yes, if you must know, my boots are toast.”
    Kate groaned. “Amandaaaaaa. I could just kill you. I planned to borrow those next week.”
    “Buy your own damned boots,” Amanda didn’t bother to mask her irritation. It was barely ten thirty and in her view, she’d filled her quota of lectures for the day. “I need to discuss something important.”
    “What’s going on?”
    Amanda paused briefly to consider the wisdom of confiding in her friend. When the topic concerned her brother, the conversation tended not to go well. Kate’s opinions of her brother had been formed early; in those first few years after her parents died. They’d been college roommates and Rob had moved in with them. Her teenage brother had not only cramped their freewheeling lifestyle, but his presence had put Kate right in the middle of Amanda’s colorful and often disastrous experiments in parenting. Ten years later, Kate showed no signs of changing her mind about Rob. Of course, his recent behavior hadn’t helped. Kate knew all about the money she’d given Rob and if she found out he’d just asked for another twenty thousand, her head might pop off.
    Still, Amanda needed to talk to somebody and as her BFF it was Kate’s job to listen. So