The Brenda Diaries by Margo Candela Read Free Book Online

night and I got the distinct feeling that he was sizing me up. Not sexually, but to see if I would be a problem for him or not.
    “Anyway, I thought you were done with being the other woman.”
    “I’m not, I’m the only one. He told me.” Maya does another face plant onto my pillow. “Why do I attract the same kind of guy? Why can’t I be satisfied with boring and nice? Like Jared. He’d never leave you waiting for a phone call.”
    “Well, it sort of helps that Jared isn’t married.” I pull fresh sheets out of the closet and start changing them around Maya. “It happens to be one of my main criteria for choosing who I hump.”
    “If only life were so simple,” Maya sighs, finally rolling off my bed.
    “It kind of is, you know,” I tell her, but she’s not listening.
     
    Friday, May 6:
    At the mall again, but I’ve started to scan storefront windows for help wanted signs. I’m like an addict looking to score some smack. But the good news is that Summer has come through with a fix. She’s booked me for two weeks at the top of my pay rate with scary event planner and wicked witch of the Westside, Constance.
    And my parents were worried my gift bag stuffing talent would never come in handy. I’ve showed them!
     
    Saturday, May 7:
    Happy day! It’s dreary and overcast outside. Not only do I get to wear my new super comfy sweater from Anthropologie, I have the perfect excuse to stay home and enjoy my day from the comfort of my bed and couch. 
    Jared and Maya aren’t happy about this so I’ve sent them to Trader Joe’s with a list of stuff to buy, which I will turn into lunch for them. After that they have to leave me alone.
     
    Sunday, May 8:
    When I was growing up the one thing I always liked was how quiet our house was. My parents aren’t the kind of people who talk for the sake of talking. I grew up believing that there’s always an end point to a conversation and as soon as that point is reached, the conversation is over.
    Now I not only have a boyfriend who likes to talk, but also a roommate who never seems to shut up.
    “Oh, puhleez,” Maya groans thoroughly and loudly disgusted by what she just heard. “What a frickin’ cliché!”
    “It’s not a cliché.” Jared’s mouth turns down. He’s gotten his feelings hurt. “It’s an archetype. I mean, she’s an archetype.”
    “A hooker with a heart of gold? When haven’t I seen that in a cop movie?” Maya jabs her finger at Jared’s laptop. “People that nice don’t become hookers they—”
    “Temp,” I say. I’ve been trying to tune them out for the last half hour and focus on making my third, and last, slice of pizza last as long as possible. “Temps are like hookers—in and out at a negotiated rate, no strings attached.”
    “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like a hooker, Brenda.” Jared looks wounded, which (to be fair) is his default look. “This character is the moral center of the movie, but she’s compromised.”
    “Aren’t we all,” I say as I nibble around a pepperoni.
    “Why not make her a hot lawyer or, I don’t know, a slutty kindergarten teacher.” These two suggestions of Maya’s are based on Halloween costumes she’s worn in the past.
    I roll my eyes, but keep my mouth shut. They don’t need me to keep going. Yesterday they talked about mustards—brown, spicy, yellow, Dijon—for a whole hour while I tidied up my sock drawer.
    “It’s about symbolism,” Jared insists, his face going slightly pink with frustration. He’s not used to having his creative genius questioned. “The hero is selling himself out in secret, but the heroine is brave enough to do it out in the open.”
    “Oh, puhleez,” Maya groans again. “Women are either whores or mothers. That’s the way it always is in cop movies.”
    “Just like temping,” I say, but they’re not paying attention to me.
     
    Monday, May 9:
    When I first started temping, I had a guy scream in my face that I was a stupid bitch because I