Perfect on Paper by Maria Murnane Read Free Book Online Page B

doing and what everyone else thinks.”
    This was coming from an NBA player? Talk about shattering stereotypes. Was he going to start ballet dancing next?
    “Uh, I don’t know what to say, Shane, I’m really impressed.”
    “Surprised you, didn’t I?”
    I nodded slowly. “More than you know. Thank you, I really need to get a grip.”
    “If you think I’m tough, wait ’til you meet my wife,” he said.
    I put my hand on his arm. “Hey, uh, while I really appreciate it and all, can we pretend this little encounter never happened?”
    He shook his head. “Nope.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because outside of practicing with my team, having dinner with you guys, and talking to my wife on the phone, this is pretty much the first conversation I’ve had all week that wasn’t about me. Do you know how boring it is to have to talk about yourself all the time?”
    I crossed my arms. “Hmm, I guess I never thought about that. So you’re saying that my freak-out over dying old and alone with a head full of grey hair is a welcome change for you?”
    He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
    “Well, I’m glad I could comfort you, Mr. Kennedy. And if you refuse to forget this conversation, can you at least promise me that we’ll keep it between you and me?”
    “Yes, we’ll keep it between you and me,” he said.
    “You promise?” I held out my hand. “We have a deal?”
    He shook it and smiled. “Deal.”
    When I got back to my room I booted up my computer and typed in a few more ideas for Honey Notes.
     
    Front: Found that dreaded first grey hair?
    Inside: Honey, think of the alternative. Can you say George Costanza?
     
    Front: Do your married friends tell you that you’re too picky?
    Inside: Honey, they settled. Either that or they’re not really your friends.
     
    Front: Feeling down because you’re still single?
    Inside: Honey, keep your spirits up. Then down a few of them and go find yourself a hot guy to smooch.
     
    Front: So your life isn’t turning out how you thought it would?
    Inside: Honey, no one is keeping score but you, so just go with it.
     
    That night I dreamt that I divorced Davey to marry Shane and got into a fistfight with Kristina at our drive-through Vegas wedding. Aaron was the minister. He was dressed in an Elvis suit and dangling from a vine.
    At least I woke up laughing.



CHAPTER FIVE
    At seven o’clock Friday evening, Penelope French and I were among the last of the JAG staff left at the booth. The show had officially ended at six o’clock, and most everyone, including Kent and Davey, had bolted shortly thereafter to hit happy hour.
    I kicked off my shoes and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Thank God it’s over. I’m absolutely exhausted.”
    “Tell me about it, sugar.” She patted her fire-red bouffant hair, which never seemed to move, and cracked her knuckles. “I’ve been working like a dog for the past six months getting this thing together, and I’m no spring chicken anymore. Once I’m back in San Francisco, I’m heading straight for the nicest spa I can find and having every sort of body and beauty treatment imaginable, all on JAG.”
    “That sounds heavenly,” I said.
    She nodded. “Oh, it will be. And if any of those tightwads in accounting complain about the bill, they can take this show and stuff it up their cheap asses.”
    I laughed, and just then Gabrielle Simone emerged from one of the private meeting rooms.
    “Hi, Gabrielle,” I said, quickly standing up and putting my shoes on.
    “Hello, Waverly,” she said with a slow nod. “I trust you had a good show?”
    “Excellent show,” I said with a little too much enthusiasm. “A bunch of great press interviews.”
    “Glad to hear it.” She looked down at Penelope. “And I assume you weren’t serious about charging JAG for your personal spa time?”
    Penelope looked at the floor. “Yeah, I was just kidding.”
    “Good. Well, I’ll see you two back in San Francisco. Have a nice flight home.” She