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The bird decides to join the conversation. “Livvy. Livvy has great tits. Livvy has great tits,” she squawks.
Oh my God. Not that again.
“I really gotta get back to work, Tim.”
He grimaces. “Okay. I’ll stop by another day when you’re not so busy.”
As if I don’t have enough on my mind.
I finally have the shop to myself for a few minutes, thank God, because my head is absolutely spinning. I don’t need one of Jewel’s damn edibles. The universe is doing a number on me just fine, all by itself.
The way I see it, I have a few options.
To start with, I can tell the bistro boys to hit the road. Which I already sort of have.
Or, I can tell them that I am, indeed, having some cash flow issues, and that I’d like to know what they are offering. I can just see them circling like vultures, their faces smug and tones patronizing. It’s all so humiliating.
Oh. Sorry it didn’t work out. Best of luck.
Hey, maybe we can hold a vegetarian going away for you. It’s the least we can do.
Or we could name a cocktail after you. Something with no meat, of course.
Ugh.
It’s like my pride has an expiration date on it that’s coming up really fast.
I reach for the ringing phone when I see it’s my sister. Maybe she can distract me from my downward spiral of doom.
“Livvy,” she says cheerfully, “are you all ready?” she asks, drawing out the last word.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“Oh my God, Krista, I’m having a crisis.”
“What? What happened? Are you okay?” she asks.
I spill the story of my shitty day, and when I’m done, she sighs.
“Krista, you have to get me out of this date. I am so not up for talking to another human being tonight. I don’t care what you have to tell him. Say I had a stroke. That I’m on life support. I was bitten by a rabid dog.”
“Rabies is pretty much eradicated in house pets, Livvy,” she says.
Ugh. Not the point.
“I am in no condition to spend time with another human, and in particular the nose picker.”
“Stop calling him that. He’s a nice guy. And like Carter says, you should be happy someone is willing to take you out.”
“Ha!” I boomed, “so Carter’s the one who’s saying this. Nice. What a great guy. And to think he’s my brother-in-law. How lucky am I? Woo-hoo!” I scream.
I have a mind to tell the Kritters where they can shove their crummy fix-up attempts, but I have more important things on my mind.
“Take care of it, Krista. I am not going.”
I end the call with a swipe to my screen.
The conversation with Krista only serves to up my anxiety levels, and now I’m sorry I answered the phone.
