The Last Adventure of Constance Verity Read Online Free PDF Page B

tastes almost exactly like hot chocolate.”
    Connie wasn’t interested in this fight. She should’ve just ordered a fucking coffee, but she was terrible at walking away from battles.
    â€œLook, Jonathan—”
    â€œIt’s Jone-athan.” He pointed to his nametag.
    â€œIt’s not spelled Jone-athan.”
    He fixed her with a look reserved for poseurs and idiots.
    â€œFine. It’s your name. What do I care?” she said. “Jone-athan, I just want something to drink that isn’t coffee. I know that this offends your sensibilities, and I’m sure that any oneof your coffees is this glorious wonderland of flavor experiences that will delight my senses now and forever. But I’m a Philistine, an uncultured fool who has been despoiled by a culture that loads me up with sugary beverages and processed foodstuffs. I could no more appreciate your unparalleled coffee nectar than I could understand the genius of whatever art-house auteur director you currently love or whatever obscure musical group you and exactly four of your friends listen to. I will never be cool like you. I will never understand the secret beauty of this world the way you do. So, give me a cider and your pity and/or contempt, and we can both get on with our lives.”
    Jone-athan’s smirk faded. He shrugged. “Whatever, lady.”
    She bought her drink and joined Dana at a table.
    â€œCider?” asked Dana as she sipped at her coffee. She frowned and stuck out her tongue. “Well, good for you. I’ve never been able to stand up to Jone-athan.”
    â€œI’ve slain bigger monsters.” Connie smiled as she sipped her bland cider. “When’s Willis up?”
    Willis, Dana’s hipster boyfriend, was a tall, good-looking guy with a bad haircut and questionable taste in pseudo-African fashion, but he was nice enough.
    â€œSoon. He’s getting ready. Something about cleansing his aura, aligning his chakras. I’m sorry about that lecture he gave you about truth versus art. He’s not as annoying once you get to know him.”
    Connie wasn’t so sure about that, but he was mostlyinoffensive. He genuinely seemed to care about Dana too. He wasn’t Connie’s boyfriend, so she didn’t see a reason to care. It was simply nice to be out among ordinary people.
    Except it put Connie on edge. She’d worried, in the last ten years or so, that her hypervigilance would become a problem. It was justified by her life, but it did make enjoying the quiet times more difficult. Like noticing a briefcase sitting, unaccompanied, by the bathroom for the last six minutes. Or the guy with the eye patch at the corner table who hadn’t actually done anything suspicious, but she’d always had bad luck with people wearing eye patches, so she couldn’t help but be wary.
    â€œOh, Byron’s here,” said Dana, snapping Connie out of her danger sense.
    â€œByron?”
    â€œMy brother. Didn’t I mention him?” She waved to a tall man.
    â€œNo, you didn’t,” said Connie.
    â€œWell, he wasn’t sure he could make it. He doesn’t always.”
    Byron walked over. Connie deduced he liked jazz and was something of a cinephile. His favorite food was anything fried, and he loved to dance. She silenced her inner detective.
    Dana introduced Connie. She shook his hand. It wasn’t android-spongy.
    Byron wasn’t handsome, but he was cute. A little pudgy. His left eye was a little bit lazy, but he probably hadn’t realized that yet. His tie was askew, though that was probably a fluke, given the tidiness of the rest of his appearance.
    Connie frowned, telling her detective to shut up.
    â€œSomething wrong?” he asked, catching the frown.
    â€œNo. Just distracted by . . . stuff,” she said, then after a pause, added, “Poetry, right?”
    He sat. “What’d I miss? Don’t tell me I missed the bird