chair. She was dressed in a rumpled long flannel nightgown and furry bedroom slippers. Yesterday’s mascara hadn’t been removed but had been smudged by sleep. Her hair was snarled and untamed. Meg Ryan meets Beetlejuice. California girl goes to Transylvania. She had the television remote in her hand, her attention glued to a game show. The floor around her was littered with candy bar wrappers and empty soda cans. She didn’t acknowledge our presence. She burped and scratched her boob and changed the channel.
This was my perfect sister. Saint Valerie.
“I see that smile,” my mother said to me. “It’s not funny. She’s been like that ever since she lost her job.”
“Yeah, we had to vacuum around her this morning,” Grandma said. “I came too close and almost sucked up one of those bunny slippers.”
“She’s depressed,” my mother said.
No shit.
“We thought maybe you could help get her a job,” Grandma said. “Something that would get her out of the house, on account of now
“You’re always the one with the jobs,” I said to my mother. “You always know when they’re hiring at the button factory.”
“She ran through all my contacts,” my mother said. “I’m left with nothing. And unemployment is up. I can’t get her a job boxing tampons.”
“Maybe you could take her along with you on a bust,” Grandma said. “Maybe that’d perk her spirits up.”
“No way,” I said. “She already tried being a bounty hunter, and she fainted the first time someone held a gun to her head.”
My mother made the sign of the cross. “Dear God,” she said.
“Well, you gotta do something,” Grandma said. “I’m missing all my TV shows. I tried to change the channel, and she growled at me.”
“She growled at you?”
“It was scary.”
“Hey, Valerie,” I said. “Is there a problem?”
No response.
“I got an idea,” Grandma said. “Why don’t we give her a zap with your stun gun? Then when she’s out cold we can get the remote.”
I thought about the stun gun in my bag. I wouldn’t mind testing it. I wouldn’t even mind zapping Valerie. Truth is, I’ve secretly wanted to zap Valerie for years. I slid a look at my mother and was instantly discouraged.
“Maybe I can get you a job,” I said to Valerie. “Would you be willing to work for a lawyer?”
She kept focused on the television. “Is he married?”
“No.”
“Gay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How old is he?”
“I’m not sure. Sixteen, maybe.” I hauled my cell phone out of my bag and called Kloughn.
“Wow, that would be great if your sister would work for me,” Kloughn said. “She could have all the time she wants for lunch. And she could do her laundry while she works.”
I severed the connection and turned to Valerie. “You have a job.”
