Page 97 of The Fed Sex Man

“Okay. Thank you, again.”

“It’s the least we can do,” she said. “I feel awful about what he said.”

“It was harmless,” I said.

She sighed. “It’s not always harmless. A few months ago, a publisher sent him an email about a manuscript. He was waiting for her to contact him, but when she did, she didn’t identify herself, so he didn’t realize it was her. She just said, send me the manuscript to your most recent piece of work or something like that. He responded, saying send me the passwords and log-in information to your fucking bank accounts. She sent an email back and said, excuse me? He responded, and said, go fuck yourself, lady. I don’t send manuscripts to anyone. She responded by saying, I’m the representative from XYZ Publishing, and you’re the rudest individual I’ve ever had the opportunity to speak to. He didn’t apologize. He sent her another email, explaining that if she’d have identified herself, everything would have been fine. He went on to say that her lack of doing so proved that she was either ridiculously pretentious, or ridiculously unprofessional. Either way, he told her, he wasn’t willing to do business with someone like her. Needless to say, that relationship ended long before it even started.”

“That actually happened?”

“It sure did. About six weeks ago. He lost a pretty big contract because of it.”

After hearing her stories, I thanked God Tyson wasn’t like Mister Hildreth. “That’s crazy,” I said with a laugh. “But, like you said, at least he’s a good cook.”

“He sure is.” She chuckled. “I’ll ship your things by end of day tomorrow, and like I said, I’ll forward tracking numbers to you on Facebook.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss Watson.”

“Tell Scott thanks, too.”

“I will.”

“Bye.

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone and bounced from my seat. “Jenny! Guess what?”

In the middle of two-stepping alone, she paused, and turned around. “The FedSex man poked his tongue in your butt?”

“No, not yet. This might even be better news.”

“Better than a tongue in your ass?

“Maybe.”

“What’s better than that?” she asked.

“SD Hildreth’s wife called. She’s sending fifty books!”

Her eyes shot wide. “Fifty?”

“Fifty.”

“We can make a huge banner and hang it on the canopy,” she said. “This place will be crawling with horny housewives.”

“I know, right?”

“Was she nice?” she asked.

“She was really nice.”

Still facing me, she began to two-step again. “Makes sense, then.”

“What makes sense?”

“That she’s nice.” She shuffled to the left, spun in a circle, and then shuffled to the right. “For a relationship to work, there’s got to be darkness and light. Without experiencing the stench of a pile of horseshit, you’ll never truly appreciate the aroma of the honeysuckle along the fence line.”

I laughed. “You’re funny.”

She tipped her imaginary hat. “Funny and right.”

If she was right, I couldn’t help but wonder why Tyson and I got along so well. It was quite possible that I was the light to his darkness, but I wasn’t sure that I was aware of what his darkness was.

While Jenny continued to shuffle across the floor, I wondered if I’d ever find out.