“No, but definitely this week.” Jean’s dark eyes fixed on a spot near the ceiling. “I think. Did you smell it?”
“Exactly what you want to hear about a cheese sandwich.” Libby took a cautious sniff, immediately jerking her head away. She slapped the lid on and buried the box at the back of the refrigerator, closing the door to keep the stench from escaping.
The cherry on top of that moment of glam was the tickle of sensation that brushed Libby’s toes. Grabbing the rubber sandal next to the trash can, Libby pounded the linoleum. She was pretty sure the massive roach laughed at her as it slipped under the door to safety.
“Did you get it?” Jean yelled.
Libby grunted. The splat would have been worse than the skittering. “How do we still have bugs when there’s nothing to eat?”
“Maybe that’s why it ran away?” Jean strolled back into the kitchen with her brows filled in and her lips lacquered a deep red. That level of eye-hand coordination was a source of endless amazement to Libby, who struggled to draw a recognizable smiley face.
“We should leave the sandwich out. See what happens.”
“That would be cruel.”
“You were going to let me eat it,” Libby reminded her.
“It’s good to give your immune system a workout. Didn’t Lillibet say something about that once?”
It wasn’t impossible. Lillibet was fluent in the language of dubious health advice.
Jean yanked open the warped silverware drawer, digging under the plastic-wrapped bundles of take-out utensils. “Here.”
Libby accepted the generic granola bar with a defeated sigh,noting that the label didn’t say anything about chocolate. Which was probably why it was still hanging around.
“What do you have so far?” Jean was already waking up the laptop,hmming as she read. “This is impressive.” She looked up at Libby, whose entire body had gone on alert at the prospect of praise. “For a person who hates to be perceived three hundred and sixty days of the year, you are channeling some next-level narcissism.” Jean scrolled down. “And the product placement is totally on point. Love the casual mention of your bespoke silk nap dress.”
“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.”
“It shows range. You don’t even own night pajamas, much less special daytime ones.”
“More likederangement.Can you imagine if someone was like that in real life? What a nightmare.” Libby winced as she took another bite of granola bar, feeling a molar with her tongue afterward to make sure she hadn’t chipped the tooth. “Am I eating plywood?”
“Questions Lillibet never has to ask herself.”
“Since her kitchen isn’t a wasteland.” Libby shuddered as she reached for the computer. “I need to wrap it up. A few words of wisdom.”
Jean must have seen the struggle on Libby’s face and decided to step in, as she sometimes did if Libby was taking too long to figure out what to order at a bar.A gin and tonic for my tall friend.It was possible Libby relied too much on Jean’s bottomless well of decisiveness. “Talk about skin care. Lillibet is a slippery bitch.”
“I kind of wanted to go deeper this time.”
“That’s what she said.”
Libby ignored the rim shot Jean was tapping out on an invisible drum kit. Maybe it was the Adele marathon, but she wasfeeling a little maudlin about the state of her life. Taking pictures forLove, Lillibetwas a side gig for Jean, part of the smorgasbord of art projects she collected like refrigerator magnets. A commission here, a random installation there, pop-up shows at bars and bookstores when she was in the mood. Chaos and uncertainty seemed to feed her creative energy, whereas they left Libby feeling… uncertain.
“It’s pretty sad when the only thing you’re good at is being a garbage person.” She glanced at her roommate, not sure whether she wanted her to sympathize or disagree.
“You need to get some real food in you, Bitter Betty.” Jean jerked her head at the door. “Come on. Let’s go to Foodland.”
“Did you get paid?”
“The check is allegedly in the mail. The logo I did for that kayak place.”
“I should stay and finish this.” Even if it wasn’t her real name on the account, Libby wanted it to be good. Ridiculous, maybe, but still well written.
Jean handed Libby a reusable shopping bag. “Why deny yourself nice things? Channel your inner Lillibet.”
“No thanks,” Libby said, following her out the door.
