I double-checked that I had the written permission of at least one homeowner (the girl’s father) before I took them on.
Jean-Claude, Jean Claude.
166
Heather Webber
I rubbed my temples. What was I going to do?
Grabbing my cell phone, I punched in Ana’s number, waited while it rang.
“Ana Bertoli,” she chirped.
“You sound happy.”
“Shakes and I are talking.”
“Shakes?”
“S. Larue’s nickname. I can live with Shakes. It’s kind of cute.”
“Talking? Are you back together?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it. You sound like crap,”
she said. “What’s wrong?”
She knew me too well to hide anything. “Too long to get into.”
“Want me to come over tonight?”
If she and S. Larue were talking, I thought that maybe she’d have other plans. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. Hey, did you ever hear from that bartender?”
“Jake? He was cute, wasn’t he?”
“Shakes,” I reminded.
“I can look.”
“No you can’t. You’re easily distracted.”
“I take exception to that.”
“No you don’t.”
“You’re right. Nope, haven’t heard from Jake. Why? Has JC disappeared again?”
“Ugh. Don’t call him that.”
“Why? It’s . . . cute.”
“You’re in a cute mood.”
“Love is in the air.”
I wanted to gag.
“Are you gagging?”
“I’m close.”
167
“Why? You’ve got Bo-bby.”
Why did everyone singsong his name? “He might be leaving.”
“What? Spill!”
I explained about the transfer.
“Stop thinking about how Kevin would feel.”
Leave it to Ana to cut to the heart of the matter.
“It’s not up to him. It’s your life, Nina.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Kind of.” Argh.
“I’ll be over at eight.”
“No, no. I’m fine.”
“I’ll bring Phish Food.”
“All right.” I’m easily swayed by Ben & Jerry’s.
