Minus the jerky boyfriend, that is. Or ex-boyfriend hopefully.
“Same, girl. Same.”
Rebecca places her shirt and purse down on the chair at the end where I dumped my own things. Her perfect white teeth flash when she grins up at the screen. “Let me guess. Meglodon?” She nudges Meg’s shoulder, then turns to me. “And you must be Great Pipes.”
“That’s me.”
“I guess that makes me Jessica Rabbit?” She laughs. “I’m flattered.”
Meg kicks her heels onto the corner of the computer table. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Rabbit.”
Rebecca rubs her hands together, selects a ball, and says, “Here goes nothing.”
Turns out, Rebecca James is good at everything, bowling included.
What is it like to be God’s favorite?
If only I knew.
I’m bowling better than I ever have but it still doesn’t compare to my boss, who is on her way to triple digits.
She returns from her latest frame wearing the biggest smile. She always seems pleasant at work but never so exuberant.
If only I felt the same.
Meg disappeared on us about five minutes ago, chatting to the old timers in lane eight, so it’s only me, this too-hard plastic chair, the low hum of an old Willie Nelson song crackling through tinny speakers, and beautiful, perfect Rebecca.
I need a buffer so I don’t accidentally blurt out the truth that’s swirling through my mind.
But Meg doesn’t look like she’s coming back any time soon, so it’s just me and Rebecca, and now she’s smiling at me and asking if everything’s okay, and I need to respond but make sure I direct the conversation away from dating or boyfriends…
You can do this. Be calm and cool. Breathe.
Give the woman a compliment.
“You have the most amazing shoes.”
Rebecca huffs a startled laugh, pushing back the strawberry strands that fall across her perfectly contoured cheekbones. I bet she’s like Meg and wakes up perfect. “Thanks. Shoes are my obsession.”
“Mine too!” Okay, I did not mean to shout.
Turns out Rebecca and I have a lot more in common than I thought.
Yeah, like men.
Damn brain. Why can’t you switch off for one freaking minute?”
“Really?” she says.
Well, they would be my obsession if I could afford them. I have a whole Pinterest board of pairs I’d love to buy. Once my finances are secure, I’m going to make that dream a reality. “Oh, yeah. Someday, I want an entire room just for my shoes.”
She drops onto the chair across from me, her nails trilling against the can clutched between her hands. “I have one of those!”
“Shut up. No way.”
“Well, it’s technically the guest bedroom, but no one ever comes over, so my shoes moved in.”
Too bad I couldn’t move in. I bet her heating works all the time and there isn’t mold in her bathroom. Imagine how awkward it would be when Josh came over.Ratbag.
