Besides, she’ll take her stuff, and then this place will be empty. And this beauty will be all yours!”
She stepped aside as the two men brought in a sofa that I instantly nicknamed “The Pink Monster.”
It had a rounded back that curved into the arms. Two fat cushions looked bouncy enough to launch you to the ceiling.
And it was fluffy.
Like a stuffed animal.
Or a bathroom rug.
Or a shag carpet from the 1970s.
Only now it was in my living room.
“Jenny, what the hell is this?”
She pointed for the men to set it down at an angle from Corabelle’s sofa and jumped onto it, striking a pose as though a magazine photographer would be snapping her for the cover of Where Trash Meets Money magazine.
The two guys headed out. I ran my hand along the fuzzy surface. “You’re really leaving it here?”
“It’s all yours, baby,” Jenny said.
I moved past it to sit on a sofa that didn’t look like a set piece for Strawberry Shortcake. “Why don’t you just tell him to stop buying you this stuff?”
Jenny flipped over on her stomach. “Have you lost your mind? These have been the best weeks of my LIFE!”
“Is he at least handsome and sexy?” I asked. Jenny hadn’t brought Frankie around to meet her friends.
“Oh, no. He’s short and balding and really into licking,” Jenny said. “Not that I mind that.” She rolled onto her back again, like she couldn’t get enough of the fur. “And temporary. I get that. I’m not looking to be Mrs. Short and Balding.”
“You sure you know what you’re getting into?”
Jenny sat up and began unzipping the boots. “I’m a plaything. I might as well have fun with it. I know where I stand.” She dropped the first boot with a sigh of relief. “Besides, you know how I feel about sex with strangers.”
“It’s good for your complexion,” I said. “Or is it your metabolism?”
Jenny chucked the second boot to the floor. “It’s good for what ails ya,” she said. “Unless you catch something that isn’t cured with a round of antibiotics.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t any better. One-and-done. This was something Jenny and I could agree on.
She propped her feet in little green socks on the coffee table. “So, what happened in the Land of Hot Docs? You got canned before I got a chance to be examined by any of your coworkers.”
I pulled my elastic bands from my skirt pocket and twisted my hair back into pigtails. “Turns out the paperwork mattered a lot. They want someone with an art degree AND a therapist license.”
“Gawd. They should have known that before they brought you here.” Jenny smoothed down the vinyl skirt. “What are you going to do now?”
“Find some other work. No reason to go back to that college town. And definitely not going home.” I shuddered. “I’ll manage.”
“I’ve been skipping shifts at Cool Beans, or I’d recommend you. But Corabelle can. That girl doesn’t make a mistake.”
The walls seemed to echo her words as we both realized that Corabelle had probably had the biggest life screw ups of us all. Punched a professor and got arrested. Then kicked out of her last college. Stripped of her scholarships.
Jenny seemed to know the direction both of our thoughts had gone. “Well, NOW she doesn’t,” she corrected. “Straight arrow, that girl.”
“I’ll take a look around,” I said. “There’s bound to be something.”
“Christmas is coming,” Jenny said. “Everybody starts hiring.”
“Some of the people at the hospital are going to be very upset that I left so suddenly,” I said.
Jenny leaned forward. “Would any of them be that doctor who asked you out for coffee?”
“He never showed up, remember?”
“Corabelle said he talked to you yesterday.”
I pulled the plant from the box and set it on the coffee table. “He and I sort of had…a moment.”
Jenny scooted to the end of the pink sofa, closer to me. “What kind of moment?”
“He got upset that I was talking to one of
She stepped aside as the two men brought in a sofa that I instantly nicknamed “The Pink Monster.”
It had a rounded back that curved into the arms. Two fat cushions looked bouncy enough to launch you to the ceiling.
And it was fluffy.
Like a stuffed animal.
Or a bathroom rug.
Or a shag carpet from the 1970s.
Only now it was in my living room.
“Jenny, what the hell is this?”
She pointed for the men to set it down at an angle from Corabelle’s sofa and jumped onto it, striking a pose as though a magazine photographer would be snapping her for the cover of Where Trash Meets Money magazine.
The two guys headed out. I ran my hand along the fuzzy surface. “You’re really leaving it here?”
“It’s all yours, baby,” Jenny said.
I moved past it to sit on a sofa that didn’t look like a set piece for Strawberry Shortcake. “Why don’t you just tell him to stop buying you this stuff?”
Jenny flipped over on her stomach. “Have you lost your mind? These have been the best weeks of my LIFE!”
“Is he at least handsome and sexy?” I asked. Jenny hadn’t brought Frankie around to meet her friends.
“Oh, no. He’s short and balding and really into licking,” Jenny said. “Not that I mind that.” She rolled onto her back again, like she couldn’t get enough of the fur. “And temporary. I get that. I’m not looking to be Mrs. Short and Balding.”
“You sure you know what you’re getting into?”
Jenny sat up and began unzipping the boots. “I’m a plaything. I might as well have fun with it. I know where I stand.” She dropped the first boot with a sigh of relief. “Besides, you know how I feel about sex with strangers.”
“It’s good for your complexion,” I said. “Or is it your metabolism?”
Jenny chucked the second boot to the floor. “It’s good for what ails ya,” she said. “Unless you catch something that isn’t cured with a round of antibiotics.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t any better. One-and-done. This was something Jenny and I could agree on.
She propped her feet in little green socks on the coffee table. “So, what happened in the Land of Hot Docs? You got canned before I got a chance to be examined by any of your coworkers.”
I pulled my elastic bands from my skirt pocket and twisted my hair back into pigtails. “Turns out the paperwork mattered a lot. They want someone with an art degree AND a therapist license.”
“Gawd. They should have known that before they brought you here.” Jenny smoothed down the vinyl skirt. “What are you going to do now?”
“Find some other work. No reason to go back to that college town. And definitely not going home.” I shuddered. “I’ll manage.”
“I’ve been skipping shifts at Cool Beans, or I’d recommend you. But Corabelle can. That girl doesn’t make a mistake.”
The walls seemed to echo her words as we both realized that Corabelle had probably had the biggest life screw ups of us all. Punched a professor and got arrested. Then kicked out of her last college. Stripped of her scholarships.
Jenny seemed to know the direction both of our thoughts had gone. “Well, NOW she doesn’t,” she corrected. “Straight arrow, that girl.”
“I’ll take a look around,” I said. “There’s bound to be something.”
“Christmas is coming,” Jenny said. “Everybody starts hiring.”
“Some of the people at the hospital are going to be very upset that I left so suddenly,” I said.
Jenny leaned forward. “Would any of them be that doctor who asked you out for coffee?”
“He never showed up, remember?”
“Corabelle said he talked to you yesterday.”
I pulled the plant from the box and set it on the coffee table. “He and I sort of had…a moment.”
Jenny scooted to the end of the pink sofa, closer to me. “What kind of moment?”
“He got upset that I was talking to one of
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