"Well, have a good day." Laura received a noncommittal grunt in reply as the stripper walked past her and into the townhouse. I can't believe I agreed to this, she thought to herself. Her eyes fell upon the mess on the table. Crystal had left behind her coffee mug, a small plate filled with crumbs, a bunched up paper towel, and the disorganized newspaper. Unable to leave a mess, Laura took the dishes to the dishwasher and straightened out the newspaper. When she poured herself a cup of coffee, she spotted a ring on the kitchen counter. You can't take the dishrag and wipe down the counter? Laura muttered curses for several minutes while cleaning up the counters and stove. When her task was finished, she picked up the phone and called Peter's office only to find that he had taken the day off. She called his house.

"Hi, this is Peter and Michael. We can't come to phone right now, please leave a message beep."

"Peter, where are you? Call me when you get in." Unable to vent on the one person she wanted to, Laura dialed the number to Jenny's office.

"You're lucky Mrs. Cranston cancelled," Jenny said when Laura walked into her office. "I've got forty minutes before my next appointment. What's up? Still having problems with the roommate from hell?"

"She's driving me nuts, Jen. The woman doesn't know the meaning of cleaning up after herself." Laura flopped down on the couch and sighed. "She messed up my paper and I swear she's allergic to putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher."

Jenny nodded, familiar with her ex-lover's obsession with cleaning. "Is she really a slob or is she just not as neat as you are?"

"I'm not asking her to mop the floor every day," the writer defended. "But would it kill her to wipe down the counter? You should have seen the bathroom." Not giving Jenny a chance to interrupt, she continued. "Do you think she could have draped her towel over the shower rod to dry? No, of course not. She left it bunched up on top of the hamper. Not that there was any room on the rod to put the towel."

Jenny closed her eyes, not really wanting to ask. "What was on the rod?"

"Panties, if you can call a little triangle and dental floss panties. How can she be comfortable with that thing stuck up between her cheeks like that anyway?"

"I don't think those are designed for comfort, Laura. They're probably for her job."

"I don't care, they don't need to be hanging off the shower rod."

"Would you prefer she put up a clothesline and hang them from there? Obviously they aren't the kind that should be put in a dryer. Not everyone wears sensible white cotton panties," Jenny reasoned. Laura frowned at the obvious logic in the therapist's words.

"Well she can't leave them there," she said finally, her agitation deflated somewhat.

"Then suggest someplace else she can hang them. So she doesn't pick up after herself and hangs her wet clothes over the shower curtain. What other horrible things does she do?"

"You think I'm being unreasonable, don't you?"

"You're not unreasonable, Laura. You have some valid points, especially about Crystal picking up after herself. However, you have to be a bit flexible here, too. She does pay half the bills now. You can't have complete control over the place anymore."

"I'm going to kill Peter when I find him, you know."

"I know," Jenny said, knowing full well it was an empty threat. Peter and Laura had been friends since high school and there was little, if anything, that one could do to the other that wouldn't be forgiven. "So you're not going to bitch at her about the undies in the bathroom." Laura sighed in resignation. "Fine, but she has to be more responsible about picking things up around the place. I'm not going to be her personal maid."

"Is she going to be there tomorrow night?"

"I don't know," Laura shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it. I think she's working."

"You might want to check that out before everyone arrives." Jenny smirked. "Or at least you should warn her about your mother." Laura rolled her eyes and groaned. "Now there's a meeting I'd rather not witness. Can you imagine if my mother found out she's a stripper?" "She'd flip probably worse than when she found out about us," Jenny said. "Speaking of which, does she know I'm coming?"

"No. I thought I'd surprise her with your presence. You know what a special place you have in her heart."

Jenny gave a derisive snort. "Don't get me started, Laura. I try very hard to remember that your mother is just set in her ways and nothing will change the way she thinks. I'm only going because Bobby expects me to be there."

"What'd you get him, anyway?"

Jenny smiled. "You know those speakers for his stereo system that he wanted for his car? I thought that'd make a great graduation gift." Laura's eyes widened. "You're kidding. That had to have cost well over two hundred dollars."

"Two eighty-seven and change, actually." Jenny shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say? I told him if he aced his Physics exams I would get him something special."

"No wonder he studied so hard. Mom and I both told him flat out no to the speakers."

"Well, your mother did get him that computer and printer."

"And I got him the programs he needed so he should be all set."

"Except for his internet access, his email address, and an unlimited supply of single college aged girls from all over the country," Jenny added. "I don't think he'll have to look far for a girlfriend, Jen. He already has girls calling Mom's place a dozen times a night looking for him."

"I told you, didn't I? When he was thirteen and his eyebrows started to darken, didn't I tell you then that the girls would be all over him?" The therapist smiled smugly. "There's just something about you Taylor's that women can't resist."

"Yeah? Then why am I single?" Laura asked with a smile.

"Because Ms. Right hasn't come along yet. Who knows? Maybe you and Crystal"

"Don't even think about it," the writer warned. A quick knock on the door was followed by Jenny's secretary opening the door and poking her head inside.

"Miss Foster? Your eleven o'clock is in the waiting area and appears quite upset."

"Really?" Jenny raised her eyebrows in surprise. A quick glance at her watch revealed that her client had arrived a full half-hour before their usual appointment time. The therapist smiled apologetically at Laura. "I think we'd better stop now. I'll see you tomorrow night." "Okay hon." They shared a quick hug and kiss before Jenny escorted Laura out of her office and the teary-eyed Mrs. Duncan in.

Laura was sitting in front of the computer, cleaning up the ever-growing pile of unanswered email when she heard the key in the downstairs' lock. A quick glance at the clock on the lower corner of the screen alerted her to the time, a few minutes shy of midnight. She left her room and headed down the stairs, entering the kitchen in time to see Crystal remove a can of beer from the refrigerator. Do you drink anything else? she wondered to herself before speaking. "Ahem." She waited until the stripper turned to face her before continuing. "Are you working tomorrow evening?"

The blonde woman opened her can and took several swallows before answering. "No. Why? You need me to split for the night or somethin'?"

"My little brother is graduating from high school with honors and we're having dinner for him over here tomorrow night." In the back of Laura's mind, her mother's strict rules about following proper etiquette fought with her desire to not have her family meet her new roommate. In the end, the longinstilled training from her mother won out. "You're welcome to come, of course. It isn't anything fancy, just him, my mother and Jenny. I don't know if Peter and Michael will be here or not. I haven't been able to reach him lately." Laura made a mental note to try calling them again.

"Don't worry about it," Crystal waved her hand dismissively. The can went to her lips again for several more swallows. "I'm not into family gettogethers anyway. I'll make myself scarce." She turned and opened the refrigerator, pulling out the remaining three cans. "Shit," she cursed softly, only now remembering she meant to stop on the way home and pick up more beer. She thought about the small baggie in her pocket and resigned herself to making the three beers last for the night. She brushed past Laura and headed up the stairs, shutting herself in her room without another word to the writer.

Laura checked the locks before shutting off the downstairs lights and returning to her room. Peeved at the way Crystal ignored her, she found herself too keyed up to go to sleep. Sitting in front of the computer once again, Laura closed the email program and brought up her word processor. A few seconds later and her newest story appeared on the screen. Resting her finger on the Page Down button, she watched her words flash past her until she reached the bottom. Lacing her fingers together, she cracked her knuckles and reached for the keyboard. She reread the last few sentences to familiarize herself with what was happening within the story and began typing.

Less than ten minutes later Laura found herself lifting the hair off the back of her neck and groaning. I hope there's a nice breeze tonight. After making sure there were no loose papers that could fly about, she crossed over to the sliding glass door and opened it. A full length screen kept the insects out but let what turned out to be a wonderfully gentle breeze in. The scent of a nearby lilac bush caught her nose along with something else.

Laura stepped closer to the doorway and sniffed again. Oh great, a druggie. Moving to the inner door, she opened it and crossed the landing to knock on Crystal's door.

"What?" came the annoyed voice.

"We need to talk," the writer replied. She heard the sounds of drawers opening and closing before Crystal came to the door. It opened to reveal the stripper dressed in a pair of sweats and a faded cotton tee. The odor of marijuana was all around the young woman and Laura's nose crinkled in disgust. Crystal's eyes were mere slits, looking extremely tired were it not for the goofy smirk on her face. "You can't be doing this here," she said firmly.

"What I do in my room is my own fucking business. I'm not a drug addict and I'm not a dealer."

"It's still illegal," Laura pointed out. "The police"

"The police won't care about the little amount I have," Crystal cut off the older woman. "Jeez Laura, you're so fucking uptight maybe you should take a few hits. You know, help calm you down a little?" Make you less of a pain in the ass.

"No, thank you. I don't believe in clouding my brain with illegal drugs."

"Naw, it's just okay to fuck it up with alcohol, right?" The stripper shook her head. "Fucking hypocrite," she mumbled as she shut the door.

Laura stood there in shock, not believing what she had heard. I'm uptight? Just because I don't want to do drugs? "Alcohol is different, Crystal," she yelled loud enough to be heard through the closed door.

"Whatever," came the reply. "If the smell bothers you I'll light an incense, okay?"

"Why do you think that hiding something makes it all right?" Laura asked.

"What makes you think I care what you think?" Crystal snapped. "I told you

I'll light a fucking stick if the smell bothers you. Other than that, deal with it." Laura heard the sound of a drawer opening followed soon after by the flick of a lighter. Grunting in frustration, the writer returned to her room, shutting the door with a resounding bang.

Laura shut down the computer, deciding she was too aggravated to give writing a serious try and not feeling like working on her email. Once the computer was shut off and the dust covers in place, she crossed over to the sliding glass door, preparing to shut it for the night. She caught a whiff of burning incense and frowned. Peter, I'm going to kill you, she silently vowed as she slid the door closed.

Across the hall, Crystal sat on her bed, her eyes staring at the worn photograph in her hand. It showed two small girls standing in front of an old mobile home. Where are you, Patty? she asked silently, her finger running over the familiar picture. I could really use you now. She emptied another beer and reached for her pipe. Letting the photo rest on her lap, Crystal held the pipe in one hand and her lighter in the other. She inhaled deeply, pulling as much smoke as she could hold into her lungs. Only when she felt as though she would burst did she slowly let the smoke out, her head already feeling the effects of the deep hit. Putting the lighter and pipe on the nightstand, Crystal laid her head back on the pillows and stared up at the stucco ceiling. Images of childhood played in her head two sisters, hair blonder than the sun, bicycling through the trailer park, laughing and enjoying a warm summer day. As it always did, a darker memory surfaced. Crystal angrily sat up and reached for her pipe. No fucking way I'm going through this tonight, she vowed, lighting up the marijuana and sucking as hard as she could. She recognized the feelings for what they were and desperately wanted to avoid having any nightmares tonight. The pot made that possible, taking her to a place where her father's anger and violence couldn't reach, where nothing mattered except the temporary peace offered by the weed. But some nights the memories refused to be numbed out by the drugs and this night proved to be one of them.