“Shit,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Welcome to Feedworthy, friend. Do yourself a favor. Go hit the town. Get laid. Drink some drinks. On me. If you don’t show up to work in sunglasses tomorrow with a hangover just seconds away from killing you, I’m firing you. You know how we get real news here, right? We go out. We mingle. We party.”
He slipped me a welcome card. There was a hundred dollar bill in it.
“Consider it a sign-on bonus,” he said.
“Got it,” I said.
Chapter 3
“I got the job!” I shrieked.
“You got the job, bitch!” Tamara laughed.
The plan for the night of celebration was simple. Pre-drinks at Tamara’s, then a Lyft out to Howl at the Moon, the best little hipster bar this side of Chicago.
“Look at us,” Tamara said, in the mirror. “A couple of sexy beasts ready to take over the night.”
Tamara was in rainbow eyeshadow and hair drawn back Victorian style; I was in my best Ren Faire serving wench outfit, bosom amplified by lace brocade.
“You would make a fierce female pirate,” Tamara said to me.
“Look at my bust in this lace,” I said, wiggling. “Look at it.”
“Yes, you’re stacked, amazing,” Tamara said. “Let’s just go already.”
“Two seconds,” I said.
I clacked on high heels back to Tamara’s bathroom, checking out my reflection. Hair: Stevie Knicks circa ‘Dreams.’ Nails—all good. Teeth—breakfast bagel sesame seed in the gumline near my canine. How long have you been there?
Had Andy seen the sesame seed in my teeth?
I dug in deep with my pinky nail, wincing.
“Driver’s outside.” Tamara’s voice floated from the living room. I turned my head towards the noise and felt something tear.
“Shit,” I said. I pulled my lip up in the mirror. There was a little jagged line in the gum, barely bleeding. It wasn’t so bad—just a drop here and there. I rolled my lips and checked my lipstick—at least it was red. That would give me an out about blood drippage. Maybe.
“Come on already!” Tamara said.
“Two more seconds,” I hollered back and ran toward her.
* * *
“Alright. Show time,” Tamara said. “Think about what you’re going in to accomplish tonight.”
“Absolutely losing all self-respect.”
“Spin that.”
“Opening myself and seeing past my own narrow perceptions of self-worth,” I hazarded.
“Getting there. You pass for now. I need that self-improvement talk to get better, girl. None of this self-deprecation. It’s old. Nobody likes it.”
“I happen to find it funny. What’s the point of it all if you can’t joke?”
“I dated a woman comedian once,” the Lyft driver cut in.
