Sadie
It was a Sunday night, and the jail was mostly empty when Susie, the police officer, brought me in.
“I guess I need a lawyer,” I sniffed as she put me in the jail cell.
“I’m a lawyer,” a young woman said, high heels echoing in the historic building as she approached Susie. I recognized her as Meghan Loring, the deputy mayor of Harrogate.
“Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear in the restaurant. Susie, I think this is a very clear case of an innocent woman suffering from Arrogant Svensson Male Syndrome.”
Susie rolled her eyes. “You aren't the first person to dump food all over a Svensson, Sadie, and you probably won't be the last. Just have someone come pick you up, and we'll forget about this.”
I nodded, wiping my tear-stained face. “Let me call…”
Before I could finish the sentence, the door to the police station burst open, and Jasmine, one of my best friends from college, swept in. She had done college the right way. During her freshman year, she had found a significant other with a high-paying job who was a few years older than she was. They had married right after Jasmine graduated, and then Jasmine and her new spouse had moved into their tastefully renovated historic Victorian mansion with their houseplants and corgis. Jasmine’s main goal in life was to be a mom to a huge pack of kids, and her spouse was very supportive.
How had she managed all of this at an all-girl college, whereas I had failed miserably? She cheated—she was a lesbian. She was also fun and awesome enough that I was only slightly jealous. Between organizing charity events and running the Harrogate Corgi Club, Jasmine and Amelia, her super-smart and well-paid wife, were working on their foster care license. Yep, Jasmine had her shit together. And I, peering out from behind the bars of a jail cell, did not.
Jasmine was clearly trying not to laugh as she pulled out her phone and snapped pictures.
“I cannot believe you were arrested! The video is all over Facebook.”
“It's not her fault,” Meg insisted.
“You were so excited about your date,” Jasmine said sympathetically as Susie unlocked the doors to the jail cell. “I can't believe Parker stood you up.”
“I can,” Meg replied. “Those Svensson brothers are all bad news.”
“I don’t know if they’re completely bad,” Jasmine said thoughtfully. “I see Hunter in my foster care classes, since he takes in his little brothers…” She trailed off under Meg's withering gaze.
“Hunter is a piece of—”
“And I think that's enough from the future mayor of Harrogate,” Susie said, sweeping Jasmine and me out of the police station. “Stay out of trouble, please, girls!”
* * *
“What am I going to do?”I wailed as Jasmine drove me back to Erika's apartment in her luxury SUV. She was totally ready to mom it up. “I start my new personal assistant job at Svensson PharmaTech tomorrow! Parker is going to be there. He owns part of the company.” I started hyperventilating and leaned over to rest my head on the dashboard. “I need a drink. And some french fries.”
“No more fried food. You need a shower,” Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose. “We'll have drinks tomorrow to celebrate your first day at work.”
“What if Parker sees me and fires me?” I groaned.
Jasmine patted me on the leg and handed me a box. “I made English toffee. That should cheer you up!”
I inspected the box. Of course it was impeccably wrapped.
“Have fun at your new job tomorrow! Maybe you’ll find a sexy maintenance guy to bang!”
“I need a rich lawyer,” I muttered as I climbed out of the large SUV.
“Lower your expectations!” Jasmine called out as I shut the door. The window rolled down. “Older virgins can’t be choosers!”
A part of me wanted to be choosy, I thought as I trudged up the narrow staircase to Erika’s studio apartment. I wanted my first time to be magical and special, with an attractive guy who cared about me. When I had met Parker online, I’d thought all my dreams had come true. I needed to face the fact that dreams weren’t going to help me get laid. I sighed as I unlocked the door. Jasmine was right. Being too choosy had led me to this point.
The tiny studio apartment I shared with Erika was above Ida's General Store. It wasn't a chic apartment though. Oh, I was sure there were stamped-tin ceilings under all that water-damaged acoustical tile and perhaps wood under the linoleum, but someone had done a horrific renovation in the seventies, and now there was carpet in the bathroom and faded orange wallpaper on the walls. But it was free. Erika wasn’t making me pay because the rent was so cheap. Because she split her time between Harrogate and Manhattan, my friend had told me she didn't need an expensive place.
The fluorescent lights flickered as I pulled a leftover sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit out of the fridge. While I microwaved it, I poured myself a glass of wine from the box in the fridge. All that raging at Parker and being in jail had made me hungry. A virgin cannot live off of English toffee alone, though I was sure it was going to be amazing.
While I had missed out on a lot of the good Southern-woman genes, I did have the Southern cooking genes. I loved to cook. Fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, fried pork chops—I cooked all that and more. If you came to one of my dinner parties, you were probably drinking boxed wine and sitting on milk crates, but you would be full and satisfied.
