He felt himself get hard again and before he dragged her back into the bedroom, he drew back, disengaging himself completely. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a drunken smile on her face.

 “I have to go,” he told her, pushing her outside and following behind her. After closing the door and locking up, he led her to her car with his hand pressing firmly against the small of her back.

 Before she got in, she turned back to him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his lips once more. “Call me?” she repeated.

 “Maybe,” he said with a playful smile, one that he knew would get him off the hook and get her out of his driveway. Apparently, his answer was good enough for her because she left before she could realize that they’d never exchanged numbers. Oops.

 He made it into the office ten minutes overdue, but it didn’t matter anyway since he owned the place. He wasn’t there but a couple of minutes before there came a knock on the door.

 “Come in,” Jon barked as he flipped through his stack of mail.

 The door cracked open to admit his favorite person in the world: his accountant. “Good morning, Mr. Bradshaw,” Jenna said meekly as she crossed the room and took a seat in front of his desk.

 “Morning, Jenna,” Jon said brightly. He tossed his mail down with a slap and settled into his chair, folding his hands over his stomach and swaying side to side. “What brings you by? I trust the accounts are all in order. No sudden crash in the market I should worry about?”

 “Oh, no, sir,” she said with a soft smile.

 That’s what Jon liked most about Jenna. She was shy and timid, but she could crunch numbers like Shaun T crunched abs. If not for her, he’d be a rich man living in a trailer with an Escort parked outside on the curb, instead of the million-dollar condo with a BMW parked out front. He admitted it. He wasn’t the best with money, but having a team of experts to keep him in line definitely helped.

 Jenna proceeded to place several file folders on his desk and he leafed through them mainly for show, since he had absolutely zero interest in whatever was inside. If she said everything was good, he trusted it was good.

 “Stocks are up two and a half percent, which more than makes up for the recent rise in overhead costs,” she explained, keeping it short and simple like she knew he preferred. “Our sales rep reported to me this morning that Mr. Larson’s latest project has broken through to the Times Best Sellers, which is already showing promising numbers, but we won’t know how well it’s truly done until the last earnings report comes in at the end of the month. And, I’m leaving.”

 Jon was on such a high from all the good news that he almost missed her little bombshell. His hands grasped the armrests and he sat forward, his back ramrod. “Excuse me?” He laughed. “I’m not sure I heard you right. You said you’re leaving?”

 Jenna’s expression was full of fear and uncertainty. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m getting married this weekend—”

Jon held his hand up to stop her. “You’re engaged?”

“For two years, sir,” she said, her voice growing stronger.

“Why am I only now hearing about this? I would have gotten you a gift or whatever they do for this kind of thing.” He waved his hand through the air and grabbed for the phone. “I’ll tell Poppy to pick something up for your wedding then.”

“That’s not necessary,” Jenna rushed out. Jon set his phone down gently and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “I’ve really loved working here with all of you. It’s been a great learning experience. But I am giving you my notice.”

Jon was not pleased. He was actually pretty irritated, but he tried to keep his emotions under wraps so he wouldn’t scare the poor thing. Already she looked like she might faint from the stress. “Why not take a few weeks off,” he suggested. “Get married, enjoy your honeymoon, and when things settle down, come back. Why quit? You said it yourself, you love working here.”

 “I do. I did.” Jenna sighed, as her head dropped down so only the rim of her sophisticated glasses were visible through the curtain of golden brown hair. “Tim is old school, you know? His parents raised him to believe that the wife should stay home with the kids, while he works to take care of them.”

 Jon didn’t like the sound of this, and he let her know it.  “This is the twenty-first century, Jenna. Women work to help contribute to the household, too. Why go through years of school and training to get where you are today only to give it all up?”

 The thin line of her lips and downcast eyes let him know he was getting to her, but whether it was a good or bad thing, he couldn’t be certain. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Bradshaw, but I’m getting married and I respect my husband’s wishes. I’m sorry you find that difficult to understand, but it is what it is.”

 Jon watched her silently for a moment longer, meeting her eyes dead on. No, he didn’t understand it, nor did he ever want to. He was raised in a home where his mother and father both held jobs and pursued their dreams outside of the house and family, with the notion that a person needed to fulfill themselves before they could be truly fulfilled in life. He had never been able to grasp the nineteen fifties housewife ideal.

 “So that’s it? You’re leaving me?”

 “Yes, sir.”

 With a resigned sigh, Jon stood up and extended his hand. “Well then, Ms. Houseman, congratulations on your marriage and good luck.”

 “Thank you.”

 He walked her to the door, pausing just inside of it. “If you ever need anything, just call.”

 Jenna nodded. “Okay.”

 “And I trust you can cut your own severance check without robbing me blind?”

 “That’s a pretty tall order, but I’ll try.” She smirked.

 “Good, and make it double. I don’t want people thinking they’re working for a scrooge.” He closed the door on her shocked face and plopped back down behind his desk. It sucked royal ass that Jenna was leaving. He was just boasting to his parents the other night about how well things were going for him and how much he had planned for the company’s future. Now, he was out an accountant, and a damn fine one at that. If he didn’t get another one soon, he’d be closer to living in that trailer than he’d ever imagined.

2

Patti finally understood the term going stir crazy, because she was one silent moment and two soap operas away from becoming completely bat shit, out of her mind, loony tunes.

 She’d finished out her week at Peterson and Wendle yesterday—a day early because she just couldn’t stand being somewhere she wasn’t wanted—and without a single idea of how to move ahead, she felt lost. She knew she needed to start looking for a job and putting in applications, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Maybe it had something to do with the shock of having her livelihood yanked out from under her, or maybe she was just having so much fun sitting at home, alone, with nothing to do but stuff her face with sugary snacks that she’d completely lost her drive to continue being a productive member of society. Okay, so it’d only been a day, and maybe she was being a tad overly dramatic, but she had loved her job. Without it to help keep her occupied, she had nothing to distract her from her memories.

 Unwrapping a fresh brownie square, Patti didn’t even bother with the pretense of nibbling. She just dove right in and had it gone in less than four bites. She’d probably put on ten pounds already, but it was difficult to tell for sure since the only thing she’d worn since stepping out of her work attire was a pair of aged sweats, and who cared? It wasn’t as if she had anyone to impress anyway.

 She was reaching for the box of half-eaten donuts when her cell phone chimed. It took two tries, but she finally managed to rock herself out of the recliner and grab the phone before it transferred to voice mail. “Hello?”

 “Is the pity party of one still on?” Jules asked in an unusually cheerful manner.

 “It’s not a pity party,” Patti said in offense. “I’m just basking in my freedom. It’s like a temporary vacation. I never took one before, remember?”

 “Only because you’re a workaholic,” Jules reminded her. “And if I had to guess, you’re probably about to crawl out of your skin with all the downtime your logging, am I right?” Patti grumbled. “Excuse me? I didn’t catch that.”

 Rolling her eyes, Patti slumped back into her chair and huffed. “I said yeah, you’re right. But what can I do about it? It’s not as if I can jump on a plane to Tahiti. I have bills to pay and no job. I need every penny in my account.”

 The whir of city traffic muffled Jules’ voice, and Patti assumed that she was probably headed to her favorite deli while on her lunch break. She used to have lunch breaks. Sometimes she even left her desk to take one, too. Never again, she thought dejectedly.

 “I never said you had to go on a vacation, but you do need to get out of the house,” Jules went on.

 “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for going out at the moment.”

 “Oh, come on. Since when are you not in the mood to go out?” Jules voice rose in disbelief. “I think one day of moping around the house is more than enough. You need to get out, take a breath of fresh air, and remember what it means to have fun. Embrace this time in your life, girl!”

 “I don’t know…” Nibbling on her lip, Patti recalled their girls’ nights, the drinks, and the laughs. The men. Then she thought of all the men she’d dated and then broken up with, which spiraled back to Kyle and what she’d walked in on earlier that week. It all left a bad taste in her mouth, and what little interest she might have had, vanished. “You guys should just go without me. I’m no good to anyone right now.”

 “That’s the depression talking,” Jules said in her no-nonsense way. “You need to get out so you can shake this thing off before it sucks you down so far we’ll need to hire a crew of naked firemen to dig you out.”

 A small smile tugged at Patti’s lips. “And they’d be naked why?”

 “Duh,” Jules said, sounding exasperated. “A group of men in uniform coming to your rescue is one thing, but a group of hot men with abs of steel charging to your rescue, their dongs slapping in the breeze? Shit, that would be enough to wake a woman from a coma.”

 “You’re an idiot,” Patti said through a fit of giggles.

 “Yeah, but you love this idiot,” Jules replied confidently. “Look, I’ve got to go, but before I do, say you’ll come out with us tonight. It’s just dinner and drinks, nothing fancy since Piper isn’t really up for it.”

 Piper was integral to their little union, implanted from Alabama a few years ago. Last year, she’d gone to work for some publishing company and ended up working for Satan himself, and then fell head over heels for him. Now she was married with a kid on the way and Patti couldn’t be happier for her. She was living the dream. One that Patti hoped to someday duplicate for herself.

 “How is she doing, by the way?” Patti asked. Last she’d seen her friend, she’d been sporting a pretty round stomach and was talking about taking some time off work to rest up before the birth.

 “She’s fine, but if you ask me, she looks like she’s ready to pop any day now. It might be the last time we get to go out together as a group,” Jules said with a hopeful note in her voice.

 “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not gonna work,” Patti said sternly.

 “Sure it is,” Jules said brightly. “And do you know how I know this?”

 Patti was afraid to ask, but she played along anyway, curious to hear her answer. “How?”

 “Because we’re coming over tonight and dragging you out of that broken down chair, forcing you out of those stained-up, hole-infested sweats, and dragging you out by the hair if needed. We’ll be there by seven.”

 Jules hung up on her and Patti set the phone aside, looking down at her baggy, stained, and moth-eaten clothing, and sighed. How did she know? Had she become that predictable, or was her friend a psychic? Fearing the former to be true, Patti dragged herself from the chair and took a look around her living room. Discarded wrappers from various Hostess snacks littered nearly every surface. With the curtains drawn, it felt like a cave, and when she ran her fingers through her uncombed hair, the sheer amount of grease she felt built up there disgusted her.

 The full weight of her reality settled on her shoulders, bogging her down. Jules was right, she was depressed. And the only way she knew to fix it, was to drag herself out of the trenches and climb back on the horse, and the best way to start down that road was with a shower.