told them not to because that creaking complaint meant you were next.
“Holly. Come in,” said Milton.
I jumped up and brushed past him, in a rush to get into his office. Then I froze in the middle of the room. My throat opened but no air seemed to get past. “I’m in big trouble,” I said.
I heard the door close. I shifted my eyes from the pink armchair to the green sofa. I couldn’t decide which I wanted today. New Agers say that pink is love and green is healing. I
wondered what color is lobotomy. Milton settled into his chair. It faced both choices. I remained fixed in front of him. I pressed my hand against my chest in an effort to slow my breathing.
“Try the couch,” said Milton. How can he always be so calm in a crisis?
I sat down and said,“I got fired and I have a chance to audition as a voice-over talent for an animated show on television.”
“Interesting,” said Milton, seemingly unfazed. “How did this happen?”
I wanted to throw a pillow at him.
“Betty Jane made friends with someone who works for a producer and the friend taped her talking; then the producer came in and wanted to hear this great Southern voice I do. I didn’t know he wanted to hear it, but Betty Jane knew, and he heard it.” My tone climbed several octaves, but Milton’s face remained unchanged. “Betty Jane did a hostile takeover even though you’ve told her over and over not to. She started speaking and the producer said they’d pay for classes and give me an audition in a month or two. I don’t know when, but soon.” My voice trailed there at the end.The changes in Milton’s face told me that he’d connected all the dots and knew there were plenty missing.
Milton made a steeple with his fingers. I hated it when he did this because it reminded me of a church, and he knew how I felt about church and anything religious; and he knew I thought this pointed gesture was meant to mock me. But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Milton continued to stare at me.
“I guess you want to know how the first guy heard Betty Jane’s voice.”
Milton raised his eyebrows and nodded.
Inside my head, Betty Jane sat ramrod straight on the couch, fiddling with her sunflower pin. She never took that damn thing off. She even pinned it to her nighttime negligee so I’d see it
when she slept. I expected the nail file to be out at any moment. When Betty Jane wanted to pretend she wasn’t paying attention, she attended to her manicure.We all knew she was listening, and she knew we knew, but the game went on anyway.As soon as this conversation got interesting, she’d start filing her nails while that sunflower jeered at me.
“Well, I let her speak from time to time in the diner,” I lied sheepishly. Milton’s eyebrows shot up a bit farther. Nice arch, I thought.
“Pay attention!” snapped Ruffles inside my head.
Oh . I closed my eyes. Ruffles sat on her pillow shoveling in chips at an accelerated pace, which meant she was still mad. Last night I had told her not to blame me for this mess with Walter, Mike, and their TV show. She was just as culpable, because she had spoken in the diner too.
I opened my eyes again. Milton’s face remained unchanged. “Okay, well, Betty Jane and sometimes Ruffles . . .” I saw Ruffles narrow her eyes because I’d just thrown her under the bus. Although, if that were truly the case, given her massiveness, the bus would fold up like an accordion on impact if she were lying in front of it. So, technically, I didn’t throw her under the bus.
“Goddamn it, Holly,” said Ruffles.
See what I mean? Never allowed a private thought.
“Betty Jane started taking over to get better tips.We did get better tips, and, well, I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t.Then Ruffles offered to pitch in and it kind of became a competition of who could get the most tips. It helped when I was really behind and I needed to make people laugh or smooth things over.They’re both really good at that. And
“Holly. Come in,” said Milton.
I jumped up and brushed past him, in a rush to get into his office. Then I froze in the middle of the room. My throat opened but no air seemed to get past. “I’m in big trouble,” I said.
I heard the door close. I shifted my eyes from the pink armchair to the green sofa. I couldn’t decide which I wanted today. New Agers say that pink is love and green is healing. I
wondered what color is lobotomy. Milton settled into his chair. It faced both choices. I remained fixed in front of him. I pressed my hand against my chest in an effort to slow my breathing.
“Try the couch,” said Milton. How can he always be so calm in a crisis?
I sat down and said,“I got fired and I have a chance to audition as a voice-over talent for an animated show on television.”
“Interesting,” said Milton, seemingly unfazed. “How did this happen?”
I wanted to throw a pillow at him.
“Betty Jane made friends with someone who works for a producer and the friend taped her talking; then the producer came in and wanted to hear this great Southern voice I do. I didn’t know he wanted to hear it, but Betty Jane knew, and he heard it.” My tone climbed several octaves, but Milton’s face remained unchanged. “Betty Jane did a hostile takeover even though you’ve told her over and over not to. She started speaking and the producer said they’d pay for classes and give me an audition in a month or two. I don’t know when, but soon.” My voice trailed there at the end.The changes in Milton’s face told me that he’d connected all the dots and knew there were plenty missing.
Milton made a steeple with his fingers. I hated it when he did this because it reminded me of a church, and he knew how I felt about church and anything religious; and he knew I thought this pointed gesture was meant to mock me. But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Milton continued to stare at me.
“I guess you want to know how the first guy heard Betty Jane’s voice.”
Milton raised his eyebrows and nodded.
Inside my head, Betty Jane sat ramrod straight on the couch, fiddling with her sunflower pin. She never took that damn thing off. She even pinned it to her nighttime negligee so I’d see it
when she slept. I expected the nail file to be out at any moment. When Betty Jane wanted to pretend she wasn’t paying attention, she attended to her manicure.We all knew she was listening, and she knew we knew, but the game went on anyway.As soon as this conversation got interesting, she’d start filing her nails while that sunflower jeered at me.
“Well, I let her speak from time to time in the diner,” I lied sheepishly. Milton’s eyebrows shot up a bit farther. Nice arch, I thought.
“Pay attention!” snapped Ruffles inside my head.
Oh . I closed my eyes. Ruffles sat on her pillow shoveling in chips at an accelerated pace, which meant she was still mad. Last night I had told her not to blame me for this mess with Walter, Mike, and their TV show. She was just as culpable, because she had spoken in the diner too.
I opened my eyes again. Milton’s face remained unchanged. “Okay, well, Betty Jane and sometimes Ruffles . . .” I saw Ruffles narrow her eyes because I’d just thrown her under the bus. Although, if that were truly the case, given her massiveness, the bus would fold up like an accordion on impact if she were lying in front of it. So, technically, I didn’t throw her under the bus.
“Goddamn it, Holly,” said Ruffles.
See what I mean? Never allowed a private thought.
“Betty Jane started taking over to get better tips.We did get better tips, and, well, I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t.Then Ruffles offered to pitch in and it kind of became a competition of who could get the most tips. It helped when I was really behind and I needed to make people laugh or smooth things over.They’re both really good at that. And
Similar Books
