“This is the most work I’ve done on anybody’s story,” she told me. The girl with the long, black hair, slender frame, dark billowy clothes and the old, old name. The Celtic name. “Isn’t that from the Middle East?” she asked me when I told her where it came from, not a week ago. She was doing finishing touches on the glass on the table, showing me a new trick she learned.
“Thanks,” I said. “It looks great.”
“Niten,” she said, finishing the glass. “That means ‘two-swords’ or something, doesn’t it?”
I smiled, a little surprised. “Yes, it does. How’d you know that?”
“Same way I know my name is from a Celtic Queen,” she looked away from the screen up at me, her voice dropping an octive. “A queen notorious for her bedroom skills.”
I just stood there, stunned.
She saved the file. Then, she laughed. “April Fool’s,” she said. She shut down her computer and got up for the time clock. “And you thought I didn’t know. Smarty pants.”
Damn.
I’ve been tricked.
Cool. Very cool.
Ain’t nothing as sexy as a girl that can outsmart you.