“Mikey made an addict out of me. He just kept feeding me coffee and now I’m dependent.”
We walked into the hippie coffee shop. “You go first, Annie. My treat,” Kitty said. Kitty had been treating me a lot. We never talked about my money issues, but since I was “the poor one” in our group of friends growing up, she’d always spotted me since we were first spending from our own wallets. Poor was a relative term when you went to a Catholic high school. My parents had good jobs, but they weren’t lawyers or doctors or engineers. I had a scholarship, and my dad went to church to get the parishioner discount. Unfortunately, going to Catholic church weekly had its own side effects: guilt, shame, and a constant nagging feeling of not being good enough.
I leaned over the counter, looking for a drink cooler. “Do y’all have Diet Coke?”
There may as well have been a record scratch. The barista’s eyes widened, a sneer curling her upper lip. “We don’t sell artificial beverages here.”
“Okay, fine. Coke heavy? Mexican Coke?”
She shook her head. “We have a local craft kombucha.”
“Small iced coffee, please,” I said, through with having my habits scrutinized. I’d slip into a gas station later for my DC fix. Or just wait till we got home. Kitty’d stocked her fridge with all my favorites.
The other girls ordered, and we waited at the end of the bar for our drinks.
“So, how are your new roommates?” Jessie asked with a laugh.
“Super annoying,” I said, giving Kitty a goofy look. “They’re newlyweds and they’re super in love and all over each other.”
“I try to behave!” Kitty said. “Guy’s still not adjusted to living under the same roof even though it’s almost been a year. Has to have his paws on me at all times.”
I pointed to her. “She’s not wrong,” I said to Jessie. “But really, I’ll start looking for my own place. Y’all deserve your private space.”
Kitty slung her arm around my shoulder. “I want you to stay as long as humanly possible. It’s our childhood dreams come true. Living in a little commune.”
Yeah, except in our childhood dreams, her husband wasn’t there. Don’t get me wrong, I love Guy. He’s the best possible partner for Kitty, and they’ve been disgusting together since the day she claimed dibs.
“It’s a long commute, though. L.A. traffic is no joke.”
“Yeah, I made that commute backwards for a long time. I’m familiar,” Jessie said. “How was the first week?”
“Pretty good!” I said. “The partners seem nice, only a few people who feel ego-driven.”
Jessie curled her lip. “Ugh. Who’s a problem?”
“Well, not a problem. One of them is mad that I got Obi as aclient. I had to give up Guy since he was Marcie’s client, and we’d have a conflict of interest.”
Kitty snorted. “And Obi’s not a conflict of interest? You rode his face!”
“Kitty!” the barista called out, timed perfectly to chastise her for her vulgarity. We stifled our laughter.
“Y’all got any cream?” I asked.
“This location is dairy-free. I can offer you some cashew cream.”
My horror must have been written all over my face. “I’m allergic to cashews.”
“Annie, let’s go,” Kitty said, pulling me away from the counter. Outside the coffee shop, we all let out our laughter.
“I didn’t know I was a country bumpkin until I moved to L.A.,” I wheezed. “I’ve lived in Nashville, for fuck’s sake!”
“They didn’t know what to do with you, you filthy Diet Coke drinker,” Jessie cackled, wiping a tear.
“Really can’t take you anywhere, Kitty Cat,” I said. “Can’t believe you talked about face sitting out loud in that place.”
“Well, but it is, isn’t it? A conflict of interest? Most clients don’t know what your puss tastes like.”
I widened my eyes. “Yeah, they’re not going to know about that. I’ve mixed business and pleasure too much in the past.”
