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"What do you want?" She snarls.
"I think I might be pregnant," I lie. "And I need your advice."
Isla places a hand on my shoulder. "You came to the right people."
I enter the Lair of Debauchery and shudder as Frank sits up. Without a shirt on. His chest is so hairy, it looks worse than Loretta's wastebasket full of waxed bushes.
"What's wrong?" Frank rubs his eyes.
"Ingrid might be pregnant," Isla informs him.
As she closes her bedroom door, shutting me inside, I curse Mom and Dad for not putting Isla up for adoption when we were younger and making me an only child.
"Loretta's Laser Hair and Wax Removal," I say into the phone. "How can we whack that bush for you today?"
Laughter. Peals of laughter fill my ears.
"Why are you calling me at work?" I groan.
"Whack that bush?" Wilder chortles. "What are they paying you to say that?"
"Minimum wage," I grumble.
"I'm calling because you haven't answered my texts," he clears his throat. "I wanted to make sure we're still on for the movie theatre tomorrow night."
"Wow," I smirk, "you're actually calling in advance to solidify plans. I thought your random hookups were a spur-the-moment type of thing. Wait! Does this mean that you're madly in love with me? You did cry after our hypothetical first time."
"I shed tears of horror because you repulse me so much," he replies.
"If you expect me to believe that," I scoff, "you should really stop telling me you think about my boobs while you have sex with other girls."
"Are we still on?" He ignores my jab. "I need to know if I'm borrowing my mom's car."
"We are still on," I tell him. "Why don't you have your own car?"
"Because, Blondie, I've been saving for the past three years to pay for college," he answers.
"You make enough at the lumber yard to pay for all four years of college?"
"Yep," he boasts.
"But you only worked in the evenings."
"It's called investing," Wilder chirps. "You should try it."
"Is that all?" I shake my head. "I have to get back to work."
"Enjoy whacking all those bushes, Blondie."
"I just answer phones!" I rush to get out, but he's already hung up.
As I replace the handset on the receiver, the front door chimes. In walks Pierre's 1 o'clock. Fanny Allred.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and grab a clipboard. When she reaches me, she gives me a victorious grin.
"Ingrid, I see you're spending your summer working," she winks as I hand her the clipboard. Loretta is making us update everyone's information. "How wonderful."
I don't respond. I don't even open my mouth. Because I'm terrified the words your husband is sleeping with Clementine Church might escape.
