Getting Sassy by D C Brod Read Free Book Online

when he wants to be in the same room I’m in, but has nowhere to curl up.
    I had two voice mail messages. The first was from Connie telling me that the leniency Dryden was giving me in paying for my mother’s room was “highly irregular,” but April had made the decision and now Connie must abide by it. But if my mother had not been moved out of Dryden by the fifteenth, Connie would see our feckless butts in court. Well, those weren’t her words exactly, but the sentiment was there.
    The second message began with: “Hey there. It’s me.” Before I could ponder the possibilities, he added, “Mick. Mick Hughes.” I assumed he was calling about the money we were diverting to Dryden. But then he went on, “How about I take you to the casino on Saturday night. A little gambling, dinner...”
    Sighing, I punched “7” to erase the message, then “off” and returned the phone to its charger. Mentally, I dusted off my file of excuses, knowing I’d go with the truth. There were variations on the truth, of course, but wasn’t it always the hard one that worked the best? While it was true that I experience a Bix-like state of agitation the moment I set foot in a casino, that was only a stop-gap excuse. Mick would suggest another baseball game or maybe just dinner, andthen I was busted. No, it was best just to say outright that I liked him as an accountant and money manager, but his personal life made me a little nervous. Maybe my honesty would cost me an accountant, but we’d both move on. I wasn’t the kind of woman who men pursued beyond the end of the block.
    I still had an hour before my meeting with Erika, so I made myself a light dinner of grilled chicken on romaine with black beans and a few toasted walnuts, topped off with a balsamic vinaigrette I’d been trying to perfect. It wasn’t there yet, but I was getting close. Maybe a little more pepper. I ate the meal at a small, ceramic-covered café table wedged into a corner of my kitchen while listening to a Runrig CD and watching for crow activity in the birch tree. I used to eat on my couch, off of the coffee table, while watching television. Then about six months ago I decided if I kept up the habit, I was going to need a bigger couch. At the same time, I stopped buying take-out and introduced myself to the stove, and what developed was, thus far, my most satisfying and longest-lasting relationship, which really wasn’t saying much. I am challenged in that area. Seventeen years ago I married a guy who I’d known for three weeks. I was bowled over by his charm, sincerity, and the way he looked at me. The day after the wedding he dropped the charm and the look changed from adoration to predation. I left after twenty-three days, and there are times when I wonder why it took so long. When you step into a river and see the bulging eyes and double-barreled snout of an alligator, you don’t continue wading to the other side on the off chance that he’s just eaten. No, you turn tail and run. And while I believed that everyone was entitled to at least one colossal mistake in her life, the experience left me thinking that there was something basic about the institution of marriage that I just didn’t get.
    I added my dishes to the nearly full dishwasher, slammed the door shut and set the cycle to quick wash. What was it about me that attracted shadowy guys like my ex and Mick Hughes?

CHAPTER 4
    When I arrived at the Psychic Place the outer office was empty and the door to the back area closed. I thought about knocking but didn’t want anyone to think the spirit had arrived early, so I browsed around the office, trying to get a sense of Ms. Starwise. I smelled food—burgers?—and wondered if Erika had indulged before company arrived. The office looked better with furniture in it, although the carpet still needed cleaning. The pencil sharpener had found a new home on a black metal desk with a wood veneer top along with a phone and an appointment book. I glanced