overwhelming excitement that had seemed to fill the woman left her body all at once.
“Sorry, Mrs. Jenkins, right? I got a call that you’re having problems with your cable connection.” Piper looked down at her clipboard and read through the brief notes left by the dispatcher.
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Jenkins. The box thingy won’t come on. I didn’t realize they let women do this kind of work now. I was hoping I’d get one of those tall, handsome men with a baseball hat. Are you one of those lesbians or something? It’s okay if you are. I’m no bigot or anything, not like Mr. Avery down the block. If you tried to fix his cable he’d be standing behind you quoting the Bible to you like he was performing an exorcism or something. But I applaud you people really, bless your heart.” The woman clasped her hands together and tilted her head in a look made up of pity and encouragement.
“I’m not a lesbian,” Piper said flatly, completely puzzled by how the conversation had turned from a faulty cable connection to her sexual orientation.
“Oh, thank Jesus. I didn’t think so because you’re so pretty, it really would be a shame,” the woman said as she showed Piper into the house.
Piper considered starting a long conversation about how assuming that the outward appearance of someone somehow contributed to her sexual orientation did, in fact, make this woman a bigot. But she had to remember that this was a customer, and pissing her off certainly wouldn’t help her in the long run.
The entryway and formal living room were massive. Piper had never been in such a stunningly decorated home in her life. There were multiple bouquets of fresh flowers adorning every available nook and mantle. Beautiful artwork was hung thoughtfully around every corner. Either Mrs. Jenkins was a designing genius or she had an amazing interior decorator. Considering how hideously and inappropriately Mrs. Jenkins was dressed, Piper assumed it was the latter.
“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Jenkins. Now which television is giving you the problem?” With her frighteningly long candy apple red fingernails, Mrs. Jenkins pointed to the spacious media room that had more audio equipment than the local cinema. Piper said a silent prayer that the problem would be something minor and she wouldn’t need to call for any assistance. She wasn’t sure she could stomach one of her coworkers pawing at Mrs. Jenkins and belittling Piper for not being able to do the job.
In the center of the room, sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table was a girl. She had dark brown hair cut in a short pixie style that suited her sharp-edged features. She had three large textbooks open in front of her as she tapped her pencil to the beat of whatever pop song was playing through her iPod. She looked up at Piper and Mrs. Jenkins and rolled her green eyes that were covered in far too much pink eye shadow and black eyeliner.
“Are they finally here to fix the cable? It’s about time. I told you to tell them to hurry up, Mom,” she huffed loudly in the way only a teenager could.
“Nikki, what are you still doing here? You’re supposed to be over at Judge Lion’s house already. Get your things and go,” Mrs. Jenkins spoke in a hardline voice significantly different than the bubbly exuberance she had shown Piper—well, prior to insulting a whole subset of the population by announcing that Piper was too pretty to be a lesbian.
Upon hearing the judge’s name Piper stumbled and knocked over the tool bag she had just placed on the side of the cable box. Had she really just heard Mrs. Jenkins tell her daughter to go to Judge Lion’s house?
She quickly tried to gather up her loose tools from the hardwood, praying one of them hadn’t scratched it and the commotion wouldn’t push the conversation into another room.
“Mom, I told you I didn’t want to go there anymore. It’s boring. All we ever do is talk about old court cases and look
“Sorry, Mrs. Jenkins, right? I got a call that you’re having problems with your cable connection.” Piper looked down at her clipboard and read through the brief notes left by the dispatcher.
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Jenkins. The box thingy won’t come on. I didn’t realize they let women do this kind of work now. I was hoping I’d get one of those tall, handsome men with a baseball hat. Are you one of those lesbians or something? It’s okay if you are. I’m no bigot or anything, not like Mr. Avery down the block. If you tried to fix his cable he’d be standing behind you quoting the Bible to you like he was performing an exorcism or something. But I applaud you people really, bless your heart.” The woman clasped her hands together and tilted her head in a look made up of pity and encouragement.
“I’m not a lesbian,” Piper said flatly, completely puzzled by how the conversation had turned from a faulty cable connection to her sexual orientation.
“Oh, thank Jesus. I didn’t think so because you’re so pretty, it really would be a shame,” the woman said as she showed Piper into the house.
Piper considered starting a long conversation about how assuming that the outward appearance of someone somehow contributed to her sexual orientation did, in fact, make this woman a bigot. But she had to remember that this was a customer, and pissing her off certainly wouldn’t help her in the long run.
The entryway and formal living room were massive. Piper had never been in such a stunningly decorated home in her life. There were multiple bouquets of fresh flowers adorning every available nook and mantle. Beautiful artwork was hung thoughtfully around every corner. Either Mrs. Jenkins was a designing genius or she had an amazing interior decorator. Considering how hideously and inappropriately Mrs. Jenkins was dressed, Piper assumed it was the latter.
“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Jenkins. Now which television is giving you the problem?” With her frighteningly long candy apple red fingernails, Mrs. Jenkins pointed to the spacious media room that had more audio equipment than the local cinema. Piper said a silent prayer that the problem would be something minor and she wouldn’t need to call for any assistance. She wasn’t sure she could stomach one of her coworkers pawing at Mrs. Jenkins and belittling Piper for not being able to do the job.
In the center of the room, sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table was a girl. She had dark brown hair cut in a short pixie style that suited her sharp-edged features. She had three large textbooks open in front of her as she tapped her pencil to the beat of whatever pop song was playing through her iPod. She looked up at Piper and Mrs. Jenkins and rolled her green eyes that were covered in far too much pink eye shadow and black eyeliner.
“Are they finally here to fix the cable? It’s about time. I told you to tell them to hurry up, Mom,” she huffed loudly in the way only a teenager could.
“Nikki, what are you still doing here? You’re supposed to be over at Judge Lion’s house already. Get your things and go,” Mrs. Jenkins spoke in a hardline voice significantly different than the bubbly exuberance she had shown Piper—well, prior to insulting a whole subset of the population by announcing that Piper was too pretty to be a lesbian.
Upon hearing the judge’s name Piper stumbled and knocked over the tool bag she had just placed on the side of the cable box. Had she really just heard Mrs. Jenkins tell her daughter to go to Judge Lion’s house?
She quickly tried to gather up her loose tools from the hardwood, praying one of them hadn’t scratched it and the commotion wouldn’t push the conversation into another room.
“Mom, I told you I didn’t want to go there anymore. It’s boring. All we ever do is talk about old court cases and look
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