REDT
he morning of the interview, Red pulled her thick red hair into a ponytail, leaving her face free of makeup. She chose loose-fitting khakis and an oversized, light green, button-down shirt—something subdued to hide her long, toned legs and flat stomach—and slipped into sexless flats. She smiled at her reflection in the full-length mirror on her bedroom door, and then took a deep breath, grabbed her car keys, and headed out.
Creating alter ego Lynn Pickerton—Midwesterner, gardener, ending a bitter divorce and starting over—had been fun. Sasha would subconsciously size her up for competition within the first few seconds, so Lynn had to be warm and matronly, sexless, slightly boring, and smart. A friend. Never a threat.
When she entered God!ess, the same young, pierced receptionist gr
