“Come to the concert Saturday,” Pam coaxed, dark eyebrows arched and cheeks flushed.
A cloud of Rothman’s smoke obscured Susan’s face momentarily. She shook her head. “I’m busy.”
“Doing what? How long are you going to hideout? Come. It’ll be fun.”
Susan checked her watch again. “I’ll walk you out.” The phone pealed. “Excuse me.” The cell already to her ear, she dashed into the kitchen.
“Did I hear you giggle?” Pam leaned forward upon Susan’s return. “What’s going on?”
Eyes, green as a cat’s, blinked back. Making no response, Susan dragged on the last of the cigarette; her face blank.
“Leave it alone. I’m fine.”
Susan shrugged, opened the door and crossed her arms. “Well, I’m neither lonely, nor hiding.”
The door whispered shut.
~ * ~