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Oh believe me, we wanted to.
We just didn’t want to shit
where we ate.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted. I went with the latter:
Alright, that’s a pretty good one.
I was still laughing when I re-read that first part again:
We.
It inferred that they actually discussed it. Had they really discussed it? At first I thought it was a joke, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure. As I was contemplating, another message came through:
Besides, the last thing we wanted to do
was scare you off. You’re pretty awesome,
Kayleen. We enjoy having you here.
I felt a warmth spreading over me, starting from somewhere deep in my belly. It was a good warmth. But also a warmth of excitement.
I know I’m awesome, but it’s always fun to hear.
You guys aren’t too bad yourselves.
It was lame, but it was the best I could do. What else can a girl say to being called awesome?
I watched the screen a little more, and nothing happened. After two minutes, I had to assume our little conversation was over. Shit, it was kind of a relief. I never knew when to end these things anyway.
But then, just as I was about to put the phone down:
We’re doing the interviews over the weekend.
We can pencil you in for the beginning
of next week, though.
The beginning of next wee—
Oh, so they wanted to flirt? I could flirt! I grabbed the phone immediately, my fingers flying:
Fuck that. Pencil me in before the others!
I chuckled. Then, as an afterthought:
I won’t be sent to the end of some
line of gold-digging skanks.
I set the phone down with a smug, satisfactory grin. For someone who sucked at texting, I was especially proud of the gold-digging skanks line.
I grabbed the remote, and was about to un-pause my unnecessarily dramatic, over-the-top reality show when the phone sounded off again:
Okay, done.
Friday night. Eight o’clock.
