children she could cuddle and delight over. She wasn’t ignorant enough to think life was easy—all picket fences and a little yellow house with shiny windows perfect. But she’d seen how happy her parents were—still saw it—and that’s what she wanted. Tabby wanted life—love, children, companionship—and yes, romance!
Still, sometimes it seemed she spent more time connecting actors to Kevin Bacon in her head than she did living life. She glanced to Emmy. Emmy was resplendent with the joy Luke’s love gave her. She looked to Jocelyn and could’ve sworn her eyes were shooting beams of light with the residual bliss still lingering in them thanks to Armando’s attentions. Even Naomi had had a wonderful romantic event over the weekend. And then there was Tabby—the redheaded, silent stalker of Jagger Brodie.
Tabby sighed, put her straw on her right incisor once more, and slurped the water left by the melting ice in her cup.
“Thirty seconds,” Naomi said, checking her watch.
“Oh, come on, Johnny!” Jocelyn said. “We want Tabby to ask out the Derrière-inator!”
Smiling—for her friends were nothing if not amusing—Tabby stared at the door in front of them.
“Ten, nine, eight,” Naomi began.
“Come on, Johnny,” Emmy whispered.
“No way!” Jocelyn breathed then.
Tabby’s breathing had stopped—for the door leading into the room began to open.
“Three, two, one,” Naomi whispered.
And then—the door leading to the shark tank viewing room opened.
“No way!” Emmy gasped.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Naomi added as Jocelyn began quietly humming the theme to The Twilight Zone again.
“What are the odds?” Emmy asked as Tabby watched Jagger Brodie step into the room.
“The Derrière-inator himself,” Jocelyn whispered. She looked to Tabby, smiling. “Well, it ain’t Johnny Depp…but I think it should count!”
“What?” Tabby gasped, frowning.
“Yeah! It should totally count,” Emmy agreed. “I mean…it’s like he’s being handed to you, Tabs. It’s meant to be!”
“And the girl that’s with him…I suppose she’s meant to be too,” Tabby said. Indeed, a girl had entered the room just behind Jagger Brodie and now stood next to him as he studied the sharks behind the large glass wall.
“Oh, that’s just Keira Asner,” Naomi whispered. “She works in accounting…and she’s always panting after Jagger like a puppy.”
“Well, the fact remains that Johnny Depp did not walk through that door,” Tabby said. “So I guess I get to go on crushing on the Derrière-inator from afar.”
“Okay…okay,” Emmy whispered. “So Johnny Depp didn’t walk through the door. So you won the bet and you don’t have to ask Jagger Brodie out. It doesn’t mean you can’t make a concerted effort to talk to him more.” Emmy placed a hand on Tabby’s arm. Tabby looked to her friend to find her eyes filled with emotion—encouragement—almost pleading encouragement.
“You gotta do it, Tabby,” she said. “The days are gone when a girl can just sit back and expect a guy to go for it without giving him any signals that she won’t shoot him down if he does.”
“I know,” Tabby said.
“And you’re a redhead,” Jocelyn unnecessarily pointed out. “Aren’t you supposed to be all hot-blooded and confident?”
“Hot-blooded?” Tabby asked, almost giggling at the suggestion.
“Come on, Tabs,” Emmy pleaded. “Just promise us you’ll try to talk to him more.” Emmy smiled, and it was a knowing smile that entirely unnerved Tabby. “I mean, really, how long can you watch his every move, hang on his every word, and still resist not trying to grab his attention once in a while?”
“Okay,” Tabby agreed, though her heart was hammering so hard in her chest with anticipatory anxiety that she thought the entire building could hear it. “Okay…I’ll try. Next time he walks past my desk, I’ll say hi.”
“Promise?” Naomi asked. Tabby smiled,
Still, sometimes it seemed she spent more time connecting actors to Kevin Bacon in her head than she did living life. She glanced to Emmy. Emmy was resplendent with the joy Luke’s love gave her. She looked to Jocelyn and could’ve sworn her eyes were shooting beams of light with the residual bliss still lingering in them thanks to Armando’s attentions. Even Naomi had had a wonderful romantic event over the weekend. And then there was Tabby—the redheaded, silent stalker of Jagger Brodie.
Tabby sighed, put her straw on her right incisor once more, and slurped the water left by the melting ice in her cup.
“Thirty seconds,” Naomi said, checking her watch.
“Oh, come on, Johnny!” Jocelyn said. “We want Tabby to ask out the Derrière-inator!”
Smiling—for her friends were nothing if not amusing—Tabby stared at the door in front of them.
“Ten, nine, eight,” Naomi began.
“Come on, Johnny,” Emmy whispered.
“No way!” Jocelyn breathed then.
Tabby’s breathing had stopped—for the door leading into the room began to open.
“Three, two, one,” Naomi whispered.
And then—the door leading to the shark tank viewing room opened.
“No way!” Emmy gasped.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Naomi added as Jocelyn began quietly humming the theme to The Twilight Zone again.
“What are the odds?” Emmy asked as Tabby watched Jagger Brodie step into the room.
“The Derrière-inator himself,” Jocelyn whispered. She looked to Tabby, smiling. “Well, it ain’t Johnny Depp…but I think it should count!”
“What?” Tabby gasped, frowning.
“Yeah! It should totally count,” Emmy agreed. “I mean…it’s like he’s being handed to you, Tabs. It’s meant to be!”
“And the girl that’s with him…I suppose she’s meant to be too,” Tabby said. Indeed, a girl had entered the room just behind Jagger Brodie and now stood next to him as he studied the sharks behind the large glass wall.
“Oh, that’s just Keira Asner,” Naomi whispered. “She works in accounting…and she’s always panting after Jagger like a puppy.”
“Well, the fact remains that Johnny Depp did not walk through that door,” Tabby said. “So I guess I get to go on crushing on the Derrière-inator from afar.”
“Okay…okay,” Emmy whispered. “So Johnny Depp didn’t walk through the door. So you won the bet and you don’t have to ask Jagger Brodie out. It doesn’t mean you can’t make a concerted effort to talk to him more.” Emmy placed a hand on Tabby’s arm. Tabby looked to her friend to find her eyes filled with emotion—encouragement—almost pleading encouragement.
“You gotta do it, Tabby,” she said. “The days are gone when a girl can just sit back and expect a guy to go for it without giving him any signals that she won’t shoot him down if he does.”
“I know,” Tabby said.
“And you’re a redhead,” Jocelyn unnecessarily pointed out. “Aren’t you supposed to be all hot-blooded and confident?”
“Hot-blooded?” Tabby asked, almost giggling at the suggestion.
“Come on, Tabs,” Emmy pleaded. “Just promise us you’ll try to talk to him more.” Emmy smiled, and it was a knowing smile that entirely unnerved Tabby. “I mean, really, how long can you watch his every move, hang on his every word, and still resist not trying to grab his attention once in a while?”
“Okay,” Tabby agreed, though her heart was hammering so hard in her chest with anticipatory anxiety that she thought the entire building could hear it. “Okay…I’ll try. Next time he walks past my desk, I’ll say hi.”
“Promise?” Naomi asked. Tabby smiled,
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