best. Choose artificial insemination I
silently urged Renee as she waited for the room key. Patrick
wouldn’t spawn hairy monsters. No, his children would be attractive
and sensitive, with good taste in art... oh, and maybe gay. Patrick
was gay. He and Renee were really close though and they refused to
divorce. Some of the locals said Patrick had been spotted with
another male, another male with very clean hands. So as far as the
island was concerned he had a boyfriend, and Renee, she also had
a... an Arnie.
He noticed me glaring at his blunt nose and
blackheads with distaste. “What?” he demanded.
“I just hope it takes after its mother,” I
muttered.
“ What? What’d you say?” he
questioned leaning forward, his hairy knuckles pressed flat against
the counter.
I liked Renee alright, but
it was safe to say that Arnie and I never got along. “Just keep it
down,” I replied, trying not to lose my temper as Arnie’s
belligerence wafted forward. “The last time you were here I got
complaints, noise complaints.” He almost looked proud for a second,
but then I continued. “The room next to yours said they heard
barking.” That wasn’t strictly true, but so what?
Renee was already skipping
out the door with key in hand, our transaction complete. But Arnie
didn’t rush off behind her, though he was randy and tempted, he
stopped to glare at me first. “Never did learn why you’re such a
hag.”
“ You mean nag,” I
corrected. “Hag refers to an old woman.”
“ No,” Arnie spit. “I mean
hag! Harpy! Shrew! A cold-hearted bitch!” he bellowed, swinging the
office door so it slammed shut behind him.
It opened a second later.
“Whoa,” Stephen said, stepping inside, Smith misting in behind him.
“What did you say to Arnie?”
I ignored the question, asking, “Will you
take my Friday shift?”
“ What for?” Stephen asked,
plopping down in one of the faded blue chairs.
“ I just have this thing,”
I said, trying to sound breezy and not fidget. I didn’t want
Stephen or Smith to know I was going to the SL&S
celebration.
“Is Reed back?”
“ No!” I said, jerking
upright in my swivel chair to stare at him across the high
countertop. “What made you ask that?”
He propped his feet up on
the oval-shaped coffee table, his fingers busy plucking at the seam
of the seat where a few threads had come loose. “You only go out
when he makes you,” Stephen observed, not quite looking at
me.
“Actually, it has nothing to do with Reed.
I’m trying to save Mother Earth. I’m going to a tree planting
ceremony,” I admitted, unable to hold back.
He looked up then, his eyes sharpening.
“It’s at that place I told you about, isn’t it? That sawmill in
Brunswick where my dad used to work.”
Smith, a swirl of milky
white streamed forward, expanding, yet compressing into the shape
of a six foot something man, with lanky frame and messy hair to
match his son’s. I didn’t bat an eyelash, pretending not to see
him, though I knew he’d be in my face once Stephen had
gone.
And Stephen, that brat, he
was too smart by half. I had hoped he wouldn’t make the connection.
Well, the best I could do now was lie. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about. My only priority is to help our planet, going green,
that stuff...”
“ I saw you litter two days
ago.”
“ That was an accident,” I
said, recalling the incident. “Besides, gum wrappers don’t count,
they’re biodegradable.”
“ It was foil,” Stephen
said, and he sounded rather judgy. “And I saw you at the fair,
talking at that booth, Southeastern Logging and Sawmill. You’re up
to something.”
Smith had been watching
our conversation play out, head swinging back and forth as we
talked, but something about what Stephen just said upset him
greatly. He seemed to strain under the words, worry eating away at
him, almost literally. His image wavered, the transparency giving
way to the unstable flicker of his hologram-like
silently urged Renee as she waited for the room key. Patrick
wouldn’t spawn hairy monsters. No, his children would be attractive
and sensitive, with good taste in art... oh, and maybe gay. Patrick
was gay. He and Renee were really close though and they refused to
divorce. Some of the locals said Patrick had been spotted with
another male, another male with very clean hands. So as far as the
island was concerned he had a boyfriend, and Renee, she also had
a... an Arnie.
He noticed me glaring at his blunt nose and
blackheads with distaste. “What?” he demanded.
“I just hope it takes after its mother,” I
muttered.
“ What? What’d you say?” he
questioned leaning forward, his hairy knuckles pressed flat against
the counter.
I liked Renee alright, but
it was safe to say that Arnie and I never got along. “Just keep it
down,” I replied, trying not to lose my temper as Arnie’s
belligerence wafted forward. “The last time you were here I got
complaints, noise complaints.” He almost looked proud for a second,
but then I continued. “The room next to yours said they heard
barking.” That wasn’t strictly true, but so what?
Renee was already skipping
out the door with key in hand, our transaction complete. But Arnie
didn’t rush off behind her, though he was randy and tempted, he
stopped to glare at me first. “Never did learn why you’re such a
hag.”
“ You mean nag,” I
corrected. “Hag refers to an old woman.”
“ No,” Arnie spit. “I mean
hag! Harpy! Shrew! A cold-hearted bitch!” he bellowed, swinging the
office door so it slammed shut behind him.
It opened a second later.
“Whoa,” Stephen said, stepping inside, Smith misting in behind him.
“What did you say to Arnie?”
I ignored the question, asking, “Will you
take my Friday shift?”
“ What for?” Stephen asked,
plopping down in one of the faded blue chairs.
“ I just have this thing,”
I said, trying to sound breezy and not fidget. I didn’t want
Stephen or Smith to know I was going to the SL&S
celebration.
“Is Reed back?”
“ No!” I said, jerking
upright in my swivel chair to stare at him across the high
countertop. “What made you ask that?”
He propped his feet up on
the oval-shaped coffee table, his fingers busy plucking at the seam
of the seat where a few threads had come loose. “You only go out
when he makes you,” Stephen observed, not quite looking at
me.
“Actually, it has nothing to do with Reed.
I’m trying to save Mother Earth. I’m going to a tree planting
ceremony,” I admitted, unable to hold back.
He looked up then, his eyes sharpening.
“It’s at that place I told you about, isn’t it? That sawmill in
Brunswick where my dad used to work.”
Smith, a swirl of milky
white streamed forward, expanding, yet compressing into the shape
of a six foot something man, with lanky frame and messy hair to
match his son’s. I didn’t bat an eyelash, pretending not to see
him, though I knew he’d be in my face once Stephen had
gone.
And Stephen, that brat, he
was too smart by half. I had hoped he wouldn’t make the connection.
Well, the best I could do now was lie. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about. My only priority is to help our planet, going green,
that stuff...”
“ I saw you litter two days
ago.”
“ That was an accident,” I
said, recalling the incident. “Besides, gum wrappers don’t count,
they’re biodegradable.”
“ It was foil,” Stephen
said, and he sounded rather judgy. “And I saw you at the fair,
talking at that booth, Southeastern Logging and Sawmill. You’re up
to something.”
Smith had been watching
our conversation play out, head swinging back and forth as we
talked, but something about what Stephen just said upset him
greatly. He seemed to strain under the words, worry eating away at
him, almost literally. His image wavered, the transparency giving
way to the unstable flicker of his hologram-like
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