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“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I remind Cindy as Natalie perks up and looks over at me.
“Yet,” Cindy laughs.
I roll my eyes and let out another annoyed sigh.
“I do not have a boyfriend and I will never have a boyfriend. Stop trying to get me on the boyfriend train just because you found the one guy in the entire world who is sweet and romantic and loves you for who you are.”
“He is not the one guy in the entire world like that. Belle found hers too, don’t forget,” Cindy states.
“Can we be done talking about this now? You’re getting on my nerves.”
“Shut up and ask the nice girl about her hair,” Cindy demands.
Right now, I’m seriously regretting teaching Cindy how to find her voice and not let people walk all over her. Moving the mouthpiece of my phone away from me, I jerk my chin in Natalie’s direction.
“Are you happy with your current hair color?”
Natalie looks at me in confusion for a few seconds, tentatively reaching up and twirling a strand of her long blonde hair between her fingers.
“Uhhhh, yes?” she whispers. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about a change lately, maybe brunette with some caramel highlights. I’m getting a little tired of—”
“Stop talking,” I interrupt, holding a hand up to her and bringing my phone closer to my mouth to address Cindy.
“Are you happy now? She’s not going to dye her hair red like mine, I don’t think she’s got the balls to screw the boyfriend I will never have, and I’m fairly confident if she tried to kill me I could take her skinny ass and jam a screwdriver in her eyeball before she could even blink.”
Natalie visibly starts shaking in her seat, and I start to feel really bad about scaring the poor girl.
Ha ha, just kidding! I don’t give a fuck.
Damn it. Yes I do. I need a roommate, like, yesterday, and Natalie has been the only normal person I’ve met with in the last few weeks.
“Stop trying to scare her,” Cindy scolds. “Give her a chance and do not kick her out before the interview is over.”
I bristle at her words and narrow my eyes even though she can’t see me.
“I’ve given all of these jackholes I interviewed over the last few weeks a chance. It’s not my fault every weirdo in a fifty-mile radius responded to my ad. Did you forget about Felony Felicia? Or Pothead Patricia?” I ask.
(Let’s conduct a small reenactment, shall we?
Me: Well, I think this went well. I’ll be in touch.
Felony Felicia: Great! My parole officer will just need to inspect your house.
Me: I’m sorry, what?
Felony Felicia: It’s fine. As long as you keep anything that might be used as a weapon locked up and out of my reach, he’ll approve it. You know, like knives, forks, chopsticks, stilettos, and lighters.
Me: *blank stare*
Felony Felicia: Honestly, the stilettos charge was total bullshit. It’s not like the heel went that far into my ex-boyfriend’s neck. He’s just a pussy and I guess neck wounds bleed a lot.
Me: Get out.
Me: It was nice chatting with you. I’ll call you later this week.
Pothead Patricia: Quick question, dude. Do you conduct random drug tests?
Me: I . . . what?
Pothead Patricia: It’s fine if you do. I’ll just need, like, at least a three-day notice so I can get ahold of some clean urine. It’s okay. I’ve got a guy. Are you gonna finish that muffin? Blueberries are my jam, dude. I could go for some Cheetos. SpongeBob is really funny. Can we take a nap now?
Me: Get out.)
Cindy groans through the line and I know she’s thinking about my disastrous roommate interviews as well.
“Just be nice and call me when you’re finished,” she tells me.
“When have you ever known me to be nice? Also, I will text you when I’m finished, like a normal human being. Leave me alone and go have crazy monkey sex with your boyfriend before tomorrow when you’re shacking up, all the magic is gone, and you murder him in his sleep for not replacing the toilet paper roll.”
“One of these days, Ariel, you are going to get your own fairy tale and I’m going to point and laugh at you when it happens,” Cindy informs me. “You’re going to find your very own Prince Charming and he’s going to knock you on your—”
I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up on Cindy, cutting off her bullshit fairy-tale lecture.
Fairy tales don’t happen in real life.
Shit. Forget I said that. They happened to both of my friends. Let’s just say they don’t happen to me and I’m fine with that. F-I-N-E, fine.
“Do you have any more questions for me?” Natalie asks softly.
“I’M FINE!” I scream at her.
I don’t need a knight in shining armor to save me and pull the stick out of my ass like Cindy did. I don’t need a beastly man with a heart of gold to help me spread my wings and save my precious library like Belle did. I just need to be able to pay my bills, finally start stripping for the Naughty Princess Club, and die happy and alone without a man pissing me off and telling me what to do. And it won’t be weird. I won’t turn into a Creepy Cat Lady or anything because I hate cats.
