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“My relationship with my parents isn’t the business of some guy I met this week.” How dare he make those assumptions?
“Exactly, then my meathead tattooed ways aren’t your problem either.”
“I didn’t say that! You aren’t a meathead. You read Nietzsche!” She was angry and hurt and pissed now.
“Yeah, which is why you’ve been lying to your parents about getting your brains fucked out by a blue-collar schmuck—a loser who doesn’t apply himself.”
“I never said that. This thing between us…” She could see this becoming an avalanche, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
“What thing between us? Fucking me for one whole week doesn’t mean you know me!”
“Why would I? You never tell me about yourself. Anytime I try to get to know you, you strip me naked!” she retorted with growing fury.
“And you loved it. Look, Vandy with a V and not an M, you’re with me because you wanted to be rode hard and put away wet.” He spun on his heel and turned away.
“So that’s it!” She reeled from the abruptness of how this had spiraled out of control in exactly three minutes.
“That’s all this ever was. One week. You had it. It’s over.” He flagged down a passing cab and handed the driver a wad of cash. “Please take her back to her real life.”
Before she could say more, he disappeared into the faceless parade of people passing by, silent witnesses to the death of a summer fling.
CHAPTER 7
Vandy stopped to get coffee at the Panera nearby MetroGen before meeting her parents for their goodbye lunch. She’d spent the night at Anna’s—finally—and slept terribly. She kept reliving the night over and over again. Anna, good friend that she was, had not asked any questions.
“Here’s your regular, Dr. Perkins.” The clerk handed the blonde woman in front of her a soup and half a sandwich.
Vandy almost fell over when the doctor turned around. “Angela?”
The blonde from last night had confusion on her face. “Yes, and you are?”
“Vandy from karaoke yesterday. You aren’t a teacher?”
Angela sidled away from the counter. “Oh… that.”
“Your date said you were an elementary school teacher.” Vandy wasn’t giving up.
Dr. Perkins blushed, “I’m not. Michael thinks I am.”
“You’re lying to him?” Vandy asked.
“Not on purpose. There was a little mix-up about my job, and I didn’t correct him. He’s an accountant so I don’t think he’d understand.”
The same clerk handed Vandy her coffee as Angela’s story hit a little too close to home. “There’s nothing wrong with being an accountant.”
“If that’s what you want. While I’m sure it’s stressful in its own way, it’s safe. No one’s life is on the line. Simple, non-complex,” Dr. Perkins, who was not a teacher, said.
“But what happens when he finds out?” Vandy couldn’t stop asking these far too personal questions of a total stranger.
Angela smiled sadly. “What was always going to happen. I end up alone, but at least I’m true to myself.”
“So why do it?”
“Because I wanted to be fun, even if it’s not who I am.”
“I just found out I liked fun. And karaoke, and tons of other stuff I never did before. Am I addicted to fun?”
Dr. Perkins apparently understood this was really about Vandy’s problems. “Is fun hard drugs, prostitution, illicit sex, or anything illegal?”
