the dance floor.
Okay.
She lowered the paper. Instead of handing it to the manager, she simply let it fall to his desk.
"Can you agree to those terms?" He took a loud sip from a mug that had the words Spanish Fly emblazoned across it, his eyes never leaving her flushed cheeks.
"Oh, sure," she said blandly. "No problem." When would she ever learn that nothing came easy. There was a reason for those two-hundred-dollar a night tips.
"This is what you'll wear." He pulled open his desk drawer.
Dangling from one finger was a scrap of red satin—a G-string. Then he went back to the drawer and started shoving things around again. "I've got some pasties here somewhere."
She wouldn't even wear that kind of thing under her clothes. It would be more naked than naked. Her morals may have taken a nosedive, but she wasn't that desperate. Yet.
"I think I'll have to pass," Maddie said.
She left, the sound of the man's inventive cussing following her all the way to the door.
Maybe telemarketing wouldn't be so bad, she told herself as she headed for her car. At least she could do it with her clothes on.
She could file for unemployment and food stamps, but she'd been that degrading route before, and she would just as soon hock everything Enid owned before getting in another welfare line.
That afternoon, she checked out Job Service where she waited for two hours, talked to someone who didn't know what planet he was on, let alone what kind of work was available for earthlings, then she went back home—or rather back to Enid's.
She tried to get from her car to the house without alerting Evelyn, but landladies seem to have radar about such things. She caught Maddie in the center of open ground, halfway between the car and house. She handed Maddie a rake.
"Better get the yard raked before the grass gets killed."
Maddie took the rake, beginning to feel like some kind of serf. "I don't know if I'll be able to get to it."
"Oh, I'll bet you'll find the time."
Was that a veiled threat? Maddie was having a hard time figuring this woman out. All she knew was that their priorities were completely different and they spoke totally different languages.
Slipping away, her stomach rumbling, head beginning to feel light from lack of food, Maddie scouted the house for things to pawn and came up with a pair of ugly lampshades, an answering machine, and a telephone.
~0~
Ten bucks. That was all the guy gave her. Ten crummy bucks.
Her stomach now past the rumbling stage, having moved on to the couldn't shrink anymore stage, she took the money and headed for the nearest grocery store. A bag of cat food, generic peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. That's all she could afford.
Hemingway didn't know how lucky he was, she thought, getting into the express lane behind a woman and little girl.
Maddie didn't often regret her single, childless status, but sometimes, when she saw a child with her mother, she felt a bittersweet, maternal pull.
The child in front of her looked to be about five or six. Straight, silky hair. Innocent eyes that, at the very moment, were looking all the way into Maddie's heart. Ah, the sweetie was going to say something to her.
"I have a vagina.”
Chapter 11
No Excuses
Hemingway attacked the bag before Maddie had a chance to open it, dry cat food spilling. "That makes it easy."
With the bag lying on the floor, Maddie tore it open even farther to give Hemingway easy access, and refilled the ceramic bowl with fresh water. Then she settled down to her own gourmet meal of bread and peanut butter. Dessert was three aspirin.
The lightness in her head less severe, she decided it was time for another visit to the police station.
Officer Gable didn't know a thing.
"You haven't been by Eddie Berlin's, have you?"
"Actually, no." He looked a little uncomfortable.
"You told me you'd go in less than three days."
"After you left the other day, I decided against it. I can't go harassing people for no reason. If you come up with
Okay.
She lowered the paper. Instead of handing it to the manager, she simply let it fall to his desk.
"Can you agree to those terms?" He took a loud sip from a mug that had the words Spanish Fly emblazoned across it, his eyes never leaving her flushed cheeks.
"Oh, sure," she said blandly. "No problem." When would she ever learn that nothing came easy. There was a reason for those two-hundred-dollar a night tips.
"This is what you'll wear." He pulled open his desk drawer.
Dangling from one finger was a scrap of red satin—a G-string. Then he went back to the drawer and started shoving things around again. "I've got some pasties here somewhere."
She wouldn't even wear that kind of thing under her clothes. It would be more naked than naked. Her morals may have taken a nosedive, but she wasn't that desperate. Yet.
"I think I'll have to pass," Maddie said.
She left, the sound of the man's inventive cussing following her all the way to the door.
Maybe telemarketing wouldn't be so bad, she told herself as she headed for her car. At least she could do it with her clothes on.
She could file for unemployment and food stamps, but she'd been that degrading route before, and she would just as soon hock everything Enid owned before getting in another welfare line.
That afternoon, she checked out Job Service where she waited for two hours, talked to someone who didn't know what planet he was on, let alone what kind of work was available for earthlings, then she went back home—or rather back to Enid's.
She tried to get from her car to the house without alerting Evelyn, but landladies seem to have radar about such things. She caught Maddie in the center of open ground, halfway between the car and house. She handed Maddie a rake.
"Better get the yard raked before the grass gets killed."
Maddie took the rake, beginning to feel like some kind of serf. "I don't know if I'll be able to get to it."
"Oh, I'll bet you'll find the time."
Was that a veiled threat? Maddie was having a hard time figuring this woman out. All she knew was that their priorities were completely different and they spoke totally different languages.
Slipping away, her stomach rumbling, head beginning to feel light from lack of food, Maddie scouted the house for things to pawn and came up with a pair of ugly lampshades, an answering machine, and a telephone.
~0~
Ten bucks. That was all the guy gave her. Ten crummy bucks.
Her stomach now past the rumbling stage, having moved on to the couldn't shrink anymore stage, she took the money and headed for the nearest grocery store. A bag of cat food, generic peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. That's all she could afford.
Hemingway didn't know how lucky he was, she thought, getting into the express lane behind a woman and little girl.
Maddie didn't often regret her single, childless status, but sometimes, when she saw a child with her mother, she felt a bittersweet, maternal pull.
The child in front of her looked to be about five or six. Straight, silky hair. Innocent eyes that, at the very moment, were looking all the way into Maddie's heart. Ah, the sweetie was going to say something to her.
"I have a vagina.”
Chapter 11
No Excuses
Hemingway attacked the bag before Maddie had a chance to open it, dry cat food spilling. "That makes it easy."
With the bag lying on the floor, Maddie tore it open even farther to give Hemingway easy access, and refilled the ceramic bowl with fresh water. Then she settled down to her own gourmet meal of bread and peanut butter. Dessert was three aspirin.
The lightness in her head less severe, she decided it was time for another visit to the police station.
Officer Gable didn't know a thing.
"You haven't been by Eddie Berlin's, have you?"
"Actually, no." He looked a little uncomfortable.
"You told me you'd go in less than three days."
"After you left the other day, I decided against it. I can't go harassing people for no reason. If you come up with
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