Actually, Im looking for a Phoebe Frame. The man glanced around us. Maybe you could point me in the right direction and I promise to stay out of your way.
Phoebe Frame? I felt my face warm. Uh, what do you want with her?
Not that its your business, but Im here to install a new transcription system. She is the transcriptionist, isnt she?
Yes. The word came out as a squeak. I straightened and tried to look indifferent. Im Phoebe. If youll follow me, the transcription room is right this way.
I marched past him, down the hall toward my cubicle. By now it felt as if my whole face and neck were on fire. And red is not my best color. Not that I cared what handsome Hank thought of my looks, but
I stopped at the doorway to my cubicle and whirled to face him. You havent told me your name.
You didnt give me time. He offered me a card. Jeff Fischer. My friends call me Jeff, but you can call me Mr. Fischer.
All right, maybe I deserved that. I cleared my throat. Look, Im sorry about, well, about just now. I was very annoyed at someone and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He set his briefcase on the counter and opened it. Yeah, well, I guess you werent hired for your personality anyway, huh?
I said I was sorry.
Forget about it.
Oh, that is so like a man.
What are you talking about?
You insult me, and then you try to blow it off as if it isnt important.
Hey, you insulted me first.
I did not.
Yes, you did. You accused me of trying to grope you when I was only trying to keep my balance.
You were groping me. I flushed, remembering the feel of his hand on my breast. Though Ill admit, you probably didnt do it on purpose.
He looked up at the ceiling, addressing some invisible being. She admits shes wrong. That must be a first.
How can you say that? You dont even know me.
He grinned. No, but Id like to. He stuck out his hand. Lets start over. Im Jeff Fischer. Nice to meet you, Miss Frame. Or is it Mrs.?
Its Ms. I shook his hand, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at his touch. Maybe I was just hungry. Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Fischer.
I thought we were going to be friends now. Call me Jeff.
All right, Jeff. Ill, uh, just leave you to your work.
Sure you dont want to stick around? You could tell me what Im doing wrong.
No, I think Ill go to lunch. I backed toward the door. With any luck, Jeff wouldnt be here when I got back. The last thing I needed right now was a young, handsome man with a sarcastic sense of humor.
Or maybe it was the first thing I needed. Sometimes the two extremes arent that far apart.
ON THURSDAYS, I ALWAYS HAVE LUNCH with my friend Darla. After the morning Id had, I figured our lunch would be the one spot of sanity in my day. A tall blonde with an Ivana Trump updo, Darla is not only my best gal pal and chief partner-in-crime, shes also my hairdresserthe only person who knows my real hair colorand the keeper of all my secrets.
You got new wheels! she squealed as I pulled to the curb in front of Hair Apparent, the salon where she works. She climbed into the passenger seat. What happened to your old ride? She flipped down the passenger side visor and fluffed her bangs in the makeup mirror.
The Probe died yesterday afternoon, smoke pouring out from under the hood and everything.
So you just walked down the street and bought a new one? Darlas perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in amazement.
I shrugged. It was either that, or call a taxi.
I turned into the lot of Taco Loco and found a parking place. Darla followed me inside and we slid into our usual booth. I never knew anyone who decided to buy a car and just did it, she said. I mean, arent you supposed to research these things? Take test-drives?
The waitress set two glasses of iced tea and a basket of hot chips in front of us. The usual? she asked.
The usual, we chorused. Chicken chalupas with guacamole. Best in the city. I turned back to Darla. Thats how Steve bought cars. How my father bought cars. In fact, it was how every man I knew bought cars. Did that make it right?
Darla raised her glass in a toast. To Phoebes new wheels, she said. May they take you places youve always wanted to go.
I liked the sound of that, even if I had yet to figure
out where it was I was headed. Whats new with you? I asked.
She suddenly became very interested in the placemat in front of her, eyes avoiding mine. Well She pursed her lips. I heard some news today. Something I dont think youll especially enjoy hearing.
I sipped my tea and tried not to look too interested. News meant gossip and it felt unseemly to appear overeager to indulge in something that, after all, was supposed to be a vice. News about what? I asked after a moment.
News about Steve and Miss Just-a-waitress.
Darlas nose for news had discovered that the teenybopper Steve had started dating three months into his midlife search for happiness worked at the Yellow Rose, one of those cabaret places euphemistically known as gentlemens clubs. The girlTamiswore she was just a waitress, though from what I had seen, she was certainly well qualified to wear tassels, or whatever sort of excuse for a costume was customary for dancers in those places. I dont want to hear it, I said, and shut my mouth firmly, as if to hold back any sign of the curiosity that was already spreading over me like a rash.