Maybe Veronika should pretend to get sick. Maybe she would get sick, watching this fiasco.
As Rob gave Veronika a hug, he gave her a quick look that said he was enjoying this about as much as she. At least she wasn’t alone in her misery.
“And you must be…” Lorelei paused ever-so-slightly, checking her screen because she’d forgotten Veronika’s name, or, more likely, because she wanted to make it look like she’d forgotten Veronika’s name—a little dramatic pause to establish that Veronika was short, and of little consequence in this performance. “…Veronika.”
Nathan led them into the living area, and the furniture cruised into place, a Polupu sofa rising to meet Lorelei’s perfect ass, a Bo Pu chair sinking to house Veronika’s frumpy one.
Lorelei and Nathan showed off their slick vocal stylings and fingerwork, but kept their side conversations to a restrained level in deference to their “just met” status. Veronika had trouble following the conversation because of the volume of her inner dialogue, and because she felt like a little mistake who shouldn’t take up much of anyone’s time by speaking.
As Nathan and Lorelei launched into the predictable “let’s seek out interests we have in common” phase of the first face-to-face (“Oh, I love Two Boots Checker Face, too!”), Veronika had to escape.
She went to the bathroom, washed her hands for a long time, asked the house if it would unlock Nathan’s medicine cabinet so she could snoop (no), paced the bathroom, again considered feigning illness, and finally dragged herself back to the living room.
Nathan and Lorelei looked to be on their second glass of absinthe. Rob just looked miserable.
“This is so cozy,” Lorelei said, scrunching her shoulders.
“Yes, very cozy. Just the hundred and fifty of us.”
Nathan gave her a look. Veronika knew it was a rude thing to say, like an actor in a play pointing out the audience, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.
The cheery smile never left Lorelei’s face. “Just imagine how crowded it would be in here if you had friends who were interested in your life.”
The comment would have hurt, except the way Lorelei delivered the line, the crispness of the phrasing, was so familiar. Someone was coaching her. Veronika smiled, let the silence stretch out for a few ticks. “You need to get a better writer. Whoever’s feeding you your lines is beyond stale, on the way to moldy.”
Lorelei’s eyes narrowed. “Whoever’s feeding you needs to go easy on the butter. And just for the record, all of my lines are my own material. You. Fat. Whore.”
The venom in the words rocked Veronika back, but she didn’t let it show. Straining to keep her voice light, she said, “Now, that last line definitely was yours, because it was simple and childish—”
Rob’s fingers tightened around her upper arm. “Let’s get some air.” Veronika let Rob lead her onto the veranda. At the moment it overlooked a vast sea of molten lava, which was apropos, given how Veronika felt.
“I don’t like her,” Veronika said through gritted teeth as they stood at the railing, looking out on the bubbling, steaming window dressing that masked a mundane view of a side street.
“I don’t either,” Rob said. “Although I don’t hate her as much as I used to.”
Something rose out of the lava, then flopped back under the surface before she could identify it. “Were you trying to stop me from making a scene, or just looking for an excuse to get out of there?”
“Both.”
Inside, it was quiet. Hopefully the exchange had at least served to make things tense and awkward between Nathan and Lorelei.
“You don’t like her, but you like him, don’t you?”
Veronika gaped at Rob, thrown off guard. Denial seemed the best approach. “No. Nathan? Why would you think that?” She laughed, going for an “Oh, how silly” tone, but felt herself reddening.
Through his polite smile, Veronika could see he wasn’t buying her act.
“Is it that obvious?”
Rob shrugged. “It is to me. And I’m not all that astute.”
“Do you think it’s obvious to Nathan?”
Rob considered. “I would think so. I kind of figured whatever was going on between you two was out in the open. You guys are always so flirty. You’ve never talked about it?”
Of course Nathan knew; how could he not? Of course, he probably assumed any woman he met was attracted to him. The smarmy bastard. “It’s dumb, really. Even if he was interested, our compatibility rating is pitiful.”
It was still quiet in the living room; Veronika imagined them making out like adolescents, and felt a little sick.
“When you said Lorelei needed to get a better writer, what was that about?” Rob asked.
“Someone is feeding her lines.”
Rob looked shocked. “How could you know that?”
Veronika sighed theatrically. “I know because I feed people lines for a living.” In the living room, Lorelei suddenly squealed. Then it sounded like they were having a pillow fight. “Some of what comes out of Lorelei’s mouth is trite, then she snaps off some insightful observation, or a good comeback. A funny line. I’ve been doing this for ten years. I have an ear for lines.”
Rob seemed genuinely stunned by the idea. “So you’re saying she’s got someone monitoring her all the time, giving her interesting things to say?”
Veronika shrugged. “Not necessarily all the time, only when she’s doing something that’s drawing a lot of eyes.”
“She could have been doing this the whole time she and I were together.”
Veronika waved the door into the living room open a crack. Lorelei and Nathan were watching a recording from Lorelei’s life, something involving her stepmother and grandfather. She scanned the screens watching Lorelei and Nathan watch the recording, focusing especially on the ones out front.
“What are you doing?” Rob whispered.
“Seeing if I can spot her coach. He probably has his screen blinded, but you never know.” The faces in the most prominent screens all held the blank, wide-eyed expressions of people being entertained. None looked like they were working. Her gaze was pulled back to Nathan and Lorelei. Their knees were touching.
It was utter masochism, the way she lived in fear of Nathan getting serious with someone. Veronika was a placeholder, a surrogate for the girlfriend who would eventually replace her as Nathan’s default social partner. But how many times had it looked like she was about to lose him, only to have his relationship du jour crumble? She’d seen less of him while he was seeing Winter (though not a lot less, because his thing with Winter hadn’t gotten very serious), then just like that, it was over. Maybe Nathan was too afraid of commitment to ever stay with one woman for long.
Over on the couch, Nathan looked like an eager-to-please puppy. It was sickening. Veronika pulled up the personal data available on Lorelei—which was extensive, because Lorelei lived about as publicly as anyone Veronika had ever met—and ran a quick and dirty compatibility protocol against Nathan’s profile.
She suppressed a laugh of glee, though a bright little bark escaped. Point four-six. It wasn’t the worst score she’d ever seen, but it was nowhere near high enough for a lasting relationship. Not a chance. It made her feel a little better.
A package was pending when Veronika got back to her building. Veronika requested delivery at the building’s tube, and a moment later she opened the holding cube and lifted it out.