“I did something I shouldn’t have done,” I look down at my hands, pressing my lips together. “Something terrible.”
Penelope is silent, leaning farther forward, practically sitting in my lap. I can feel her eyes bearing into the side of my head.
“I…” I lick my lips. “I kissed someone.”
“Fuck, Jane!” Penelope rears back, slapping her hand against the wheel so hard it sets off her horn. We both jump at the sound. “For fuck’s sake, I thought you killed someone!”
“What?” I look up, “Why the hell would you think that?”
“You can’t find your car, you’re all freaked out, you only called me?”
“How does that make you think I killed someone?”
Penelope exhaled loudly, waving both hands in the air, “Hello? Of all the people we know, everyone else would tell you to go to the cops. I’m the only person you know who would respond with, ‘He probably had it coming. Let’s cut up the body and feed it to my neighbor’s hogs.’”
“Good lord, Penelope,” I lean back slightly, my back against the passenger side door. “Good lord, is that really what you would say? If I told you I had killed someone?”
“I was mentally calculating the cost of a chainsaw.” She sighs and shakes her head, both hands on the steering wheel. She turns to me, a look of almost disappointment on her face and for a moment I wonder if she isn’t the slightest bit upset that I’m not involving her in a homicide. “So you kissed a guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s great!” She smiles and pats my arm, like a mother congratulating her child on an A in science class. “Good for you.”
“No. Not great for me.” I shake my head.
“Why not?” She turns again, eyes wide. “Oh my god, is he married?” She gasps loudly, “Is it the Mayor’s husband?”
“What?” I sputter, staring at her again. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you coming up with these ridiculous ideas? Why would I kiss the mayor’s husband?”
“I saw you talking with him.”
“At last year’s Christmas party?”
Penelope nods.
“About his retirement plans?”
She nods again.
“And his gout?”
She pauses, shrugs, “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know what your type is.”
“I did not kiss any member of the local government body.”
Penelope looks at me, eyes narrowing briefly before going wide, “Oh shit, was it a student?”
I sigh and close my eyes, tilting my head agains the back of the seat.
“Truth be told, that is particularly hard to believe,” Penelope is still looking at me. She purses her lips. “No offense to your students, but come on. I’ve seen them. You could do much better.”
“I have not kissed a member of the student body.”
“Ok.” Penelope nods, more to herself than to me. She turns forward, eyes peering through the windshield. “No murder. No adultery. Nothing under-aged.” She reaches a hand to rearrange her fuzzy die. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Jane, but I’m really struggling here. Whoever you kissed, why was it such a big deal that you need me? And what do you expect me to do for you?”
“I need you as a buffer.”
She turns again. “Like, physically?” She looks down at herself, “I mean, I can try, but I’m not exactly athletic.”
“I need you as a conversational buffer.”
“Oh,” she nods. “Sure, I can do that. What, like distract someone while you get your car?”
I nod.
She smiles. “No problem. Who is it?”
“David Jacobs.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. Jaw goes slack.
I wait.
Silence.
I wait.
“David Jacobs?”
I nod.
“The. You. But.” She stutters, like a cellphone with bad reception. Single words jerking out of her open mouth.
“We will go to his house-”
“Oh my god.”
“-where you will make small talk-”
“Holy shit.”
“-in case he comes out of his house-”
“ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”
“-while I get my car.”
“Holy fuck, Jane.”
“Ok?”
“Ok.” She nods. “Ok. We’re really going to his house?”
“Yes.”
“Can I go inside?”
“No.”
“Can we- Can I talk to him?”
“That’s the reason I called you. You’re going to distract him, while I retrieve my car.”
“Ok.” Penelope presses her forehead against the steering wheel, her breathing deep and uneven. I’m tempted to rub her back, to help calm her down, except I’m too busy rolling my eyes at her hysteria.
“Wait.” She sits up. Breath calm. “Wait.” She turns, both hands on the wheel, eyes on me.
“What?”
“Why is your car at David Jacobs’ house?”
“Well…”
“YOU KISSED DAVID JACOBS?” She screams it, mouth open, practically shattering my ears with the volume inside the car and I wish I had thought to roll down the windows before I gave her the news.
“I did.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Oh my god, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
She continues to stare at me, and I wonder if I should have called Dory who, at least, would not have been surprised. Or Christine, who probably wouldn’t have cared.
“FUCK, Jane. Why didn’t you start with that?”
“And miss your thoughts on the mayor’s husband?”
“Tell. Me. Everything.” She grabs my hand. “Everything. What kind of tongue does he have?”
“I-what?” I shake her hand off of mine. “What sort of question is that?”
“Firm, or wide, or soft, or-”
“You know what? I will tell you everything. I will, I promise.” I place my hand on her shoulder, trying not to laugh at the prepubescent absurdity of two women in their thirties screaming about kissing a boy. “But can we please get my car first?”
“Ok. Ok.” She nods, and turns the key in the ancient engine. “My god, Jane. I have never been this shocked. You making out with movie stars?” She shifts out of park and looks behind her as she reverses out of my driveway. “Honestly, I’d be less surprised if you killed a man.”
Penelope pulls into the long driveway and I remind her not to scream when she sees him.
“Hopefully he’ll still be asleep, and you can just drop me off.”
“No way.”
“Well,” I sigh, beginning to feel slightly bad for David. If he does come out the door, he has no idea what he’s in for. “If he is home, feel free to chat, but don’t linger. We’re just picking up my car. That’s it.”
“Sure.”
“We’re not
