father wasn’t looking, held it under the table for Jake, and then Weezer.
You couldn’t drown your sorrows properly in soggy pasta— even when it was made with love and the wish for you to hurry up and heal.
Chocolate frosting made everything almost bearable.
That it had so generously given her back the ten pounds she’d been down just before her divorce was neither here nor there.
Who cared what her ass looked like?
Maxine Barker smiled her perky, meant to inspire motivation smile at Mel as she made her way across the tiled floor of Trophy Jobs Inc.
“Mel! I’m so glad you came. I love that color on you.” She pointed to the deep turquoise of Mel’s sadly pilling sweater. “It’s starting to get chilly enough for a sweater. Can you believe it’s this cool on the last day of August?”
Mel contemplated Maxine, trying to remember her father was her biggest fan, but was hesitant to show anything in the way of enthusi-asm for fear Maxine would take it as a sign she was an all-systems-after-divorce-therapy go. “It’s definitely cooling off.”
Max hitched her jaw to the left, putting a relaxed hand in the pocket of her tailored taupe slacks. “Let’s go talk in my office.”
Without waiting for an answer, she took confident strides toward a door along a white hallway strung with pictures of seniors from the Village who donated their time to Trophy.
One plaque in particular made Mel pause momentarily to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all. It had a cracked tiara on it and read “Suck it up, Princess.”
Max ushered Mel in, waving her hand at a pair of leather chairs.
One was filled by a woman with wavy auburn hair and a chubby baby in blue overalls slung over her shoulder. On the couch positioned at the other side of the room sat the most perfect female Mel had ever seen— and coming from L. A., she’d seen.
“Mel? This is Frankie Antonakas, her baby Nikos Junior, and Jasmine Jones. Both Trophy Jobs success stories.”
Well and fuck. This was one of those ambush interventions, and she’d walked right into it like someone had told her there was a case of Suzy Q’s in Maxine’s office.
Mel didn’t know what to do. Because she loved her father, she didn’t want to be rude to these women. She also didn’t want to be harpooned by the divorce spear and left to bleed out on the shore while they chanted their speeches of empowerment and danced around her fat ass in a circle.
“You want me to block the door while you run interference, Frankie?” the beautifully surreal creature named Jasmine asked.
“She doesn’t look like the kind who’d take out a woman with a baby, but you just never know.” Her bright red lips, the perfect color to compliment her creamy features, curved into an amused smile.
Frankie tipped her head full of gorgeous auburn hair back and laughed, stirring the baby who stuck a thumb in his mouth and nuzzled against her neck. “Come sit down, Mel. What you suspect is right. We’re here to help. All you have to do is listen. If you don’t like what you hear, you can go back to sulking and pouting. We’ve all done it. It was all kinds of awesome. Well, except for the smell. I thank God every day Max made me finally shower.” The women all giggled together while Mel frowned, perplexed by her comment.
Maxine sat behind her desk and motioned for Mel to sit, too. The clink of Maxine’s bangle bracelets sang in the air that had become suddenly oppressive. “Sit down, Mel, and relax. I know you’re reluctant to participate in anything, much less listen to a bunch of women who you think want to advise you on how to Krazy Glue your life back together, but that’s not the only reason I asked you to come.”
Mel slid into her chair, her glace at Max wary. Maxine was her boss. She didn’t have much of a choice but to sit and listen if she hoped to buy Weezer more food. Saint Bernard’s ate buttloads of food. “Does it have to do with the Village and the rec
You couldn’t drown your sorrows properly in soggy pasta— even when it was made with love and the wish for you to hurry up and heal.
Chocolate frosting made everything almost bearable.
That it had so generously given her back the ten pounds she’d been down just before her divorce was neither here nor there.
Who cared what her ass looked like?
Maxine Barker smiled her perky, meant to inspire motivation smile at Mel as she made her way across the tiled floor of Trophy Jobs Inc.
“Mel! I’m so glad you came. I love that color on you.” She pointed to the deep turquoise of Mel’s sadly pilling sweater. “It’s starting to get chilly enough for a sweater. Can you believe it’s this cool on the last day of August?”
Mel contemplated Maxine, trying to remember her father was her biggest fan, but was hesitant to show anything in the way of enthusi-asm for fear Maxine would take it as a sign she was an all-systems-after-divorce-therapy go. “It’s definitely cooling off.”
Max hitched her jaw to the left, putting a relaxed hand in the pocket of her tailored taupe slacks. “Let’s go talk in my office.”
Without waiting for an answer, she took confident strides toward a door along a white hallway strung with pictures of seniors from the Village who donated their time to Trophy.
One plaque in particular made Mel pause momentarily to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all. It had a cracked tiara on it and read “Suck it up, Princess.”
Max ushered Mel in, waving her hand at a pair of leather chairs.
One was filled by a woman with wavy auburn hair and a chubby baby in blue overalls slung over her shoulder. On the couch positioned at the other side of the room sat the most perfect female Mel had ever seen— and coming from L. A., she’d seen.
“Mel? This is Frankie Antonakas, her baby Nikos Junior, and Jasmine Jones. Both Trophy Jobs success stories.”
Well and fuck. This was one of those ambush interventions, and she’d walked right into it like someone had told her there was a case of Suzy Q’s in Maxine’s office.
Mel didn’t know what to do. Because she loved her father, she didn’t want to be rude to these women. She also didn’t want to be harpooned by the divorce spear and left to bleed out on the shore while they chanted their speeches of empowerment and danced around her fat ass in a circle.
“You want me to block the door while you run interference, Frankie?” the beautifully surreal creature named Jasmine asked.
“She doesn’t look like the kind who’d take out a woman with a baby, but you just never know.” Her bright red lips, the perfect color to compliment her creamy features, curved into an amused smile.
Frankie tipped her head full of gorgeous auburn hair back and laughed, stirring the baby who stuck a thumb in his mouth and nuzzled against her neck. “Come sit down, Mel. What you suspect is right. We’re here to help. All you have to do is listen. If you don’t like what you hear, you can go back to sulking and pouting. We’ve all done it. It was all kinds of awesome. Well, except for the smell. I thank God every day Max made me finally shower.” The women all giggled together while Mel frowned, perplexed by her comment.
Maxine sat behind her desk and motioned for Mel to sit, too. The clink of Maxine’s bangle bracelets sang in the air that had become suddenly oppressive. “Sit down, Mel, and relax. I know you’re reluctant to participate in anything, much less listen to a bunch of women who you think want to advise you on how to Krazy Glue your life back together, but that’s not the only reason I asked you to come.”
Mel slid into her chair, her glace at Max wary. Maxine was her boss. She didn’t have much of a choice but to sit and listen if she hoped to buy Weezer more food. Saint Bernard’s ate buttloads of food. “Does it have to do with the Village and the rec
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