The Interview

Chapter Eight

Glinda did get a chance to try out the new Munchkin café that her colleagues had been talking about later that same week. When it was time for her lunch break, she took her handbag, only bringing the most essential items and leaving everything else behind.

"Shall I bring anything back?" she asked Dayae, who'd been typing away since at least nine o'clock, only refuelling with the coffee that Yolona regularly refilled for her.

In answer she received a tired smile and a declining wave of the Munchkin's left hand as she once again reached for the big mug in front of her with her right.

At the café, Glinda met Crope. He had already gathered his other co-conspirers around himself - two boys and a girl she hadn't seen more than once or twice before and whose names she could not reliably recall. The tall, fair-haired fellow might have been called Greg, she believed to remember, but she wouldn't have risked using that name.

"Fariandra won't be able to make it, so we're complete now," her flatmate informed her once she was comfortably seated.

A green smoothie and some sort of flaky puff pastry were already waiting for her. Crope had ordered them to save time. She took a bite and a sip, then sat up with folded arms, ready to hear his plans.

"Well, as you all know, it's Tibb's birthday tomorrow."

"No, really?" the shorter one of the boys quipped.

"Shut up, Rinley." The only other girl rolled her eyes. "I have to go back to work in ten."

Tapping her hand apologetically, Crope nodded.

"I'll make this brief," he promised. "So, anyway, as we already discussed, the party will be on Saturday, but we aren't exactly set on the location yet."

Rinley raised his hand in a schoolboy like manner.

"How about the Little Green Hut?"

"No bars or clubs, we'll have some minors attending - Kid's from the LGBT association of the Uni."

"Well, what other places are there?" someone interjected, but Glinda didn't pay attention to who it was that was speaking. Looking down with an unfocused gaze, she fiddled with the finger that used to wear her black ring. An uneasy feeling started to churn her insides.

"Um, sorry," she interrupted, tentatively, "but how many people are we talking?"

Putting his finger to his mouth, Crope paused to count them in his head.

"Maybe twenty-something?"

"Okay," she said contemplatively. "That's quite a few." She pinched the skin of her ring finger, than let go. Looking up, she said, "But not too many for the flat, I suppose. You can use my room for storage – that way we can use your room for additional party space. If some of you could find a way to get Tibbett out of the way, I and one or two others could decorate."

"That's cool with me," nodded Crope. "I'll stay with you for the preparations."

The girl next to him had a better idea.

"No, Cro! You will take Tib out for grocery shopping and stuff like that, pretending you forgot his birthday, and we all come to your place to help... sorry, what was your name, darling?"

"Glinda," Crope supplied.

"Sounds risky," the boy Glinda temporarily called Greg, grinned, "But I love it!"

Crope laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, okay. Since you're all so keen. But seriously, if I lose my boyfriend of almost four years over this, I'll absolutely blame you guys and my revenge won't be pretty."