We Interrupt This Date by L.C. Evans Read Free Book Online

stood under the steaming water for a
good twenty minutes until my head started to clear.
    When I climbed out, I wiped steam off the
mirror and stared at my face. Eyes definitely puffy, but otherwise,
not too much damage. I’d had the little shove I needed. From now
on, I was going to stop letting other people talk me into things.
No more blind dates, no matter how lonely I got. And no more
feeling sorry for myself and no more drinking too much wine, though
that one would be easy. I rarely drank, and other than last night
I’d never had more than I could handle.
    I felt better after the mental scolding and
made a resolve to sin no more. I took the time to hunt up my
self-improvement list and stick it on the refrigerator with a
dolphin-shaped magnet Mama had brought me from Florida a few years
ago. Underneath the entries for exercise, makeover, and better job,
I added act my age.Unfortunately, five minutes spent on my list
translated to twenty extra minutes in morning traffic. I ripped my
well-aged minivan around a corner, slid into the Hoganboom lot, and
screeched to a halt in my usual parking spot. Odell insists that we
park around back next to the stinking Dumpster we share with the
seafood market next door. I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes
late. Maybe I should add promptness to my list as a gentle
reminder.
    I scurried inside, only to be blocked by
Odell. He was standing in the hall outside his office with feet
wide apart, one hand behind his back, and the other inside his
jacket over his heart. He was the image of Napoleon, if Napoleon
were suffering from hemorrhoids and wore modern clothing.
    Patty was frantically eyebrow signaling me
over his head. She’d made up for last night by drawing her brows in
thicker and blacker than normal. Patty’s signaling clearly read
that something was wrong and the something involved me.
    “Good morning,” I chirped, dropping my keys
in my purse and snapping it shut. I hoped my casual attitude would
prompt Odell to step aside and give me clear path to my office. If
he was willing to forget about my tardiness, I certainly wasn’t
going to bring it up.
    “I suppose,” Odell said, not stepping aside.
“I suppose,” he said again, sucking in his stomach and drawing
himself up to his full five feet four, “you’ll give me some lame
excuse as your reason for waltzing in here fifteen minutes
late.”
    “Traffic,” I said quickly. “I’ll do better in
the future.”
    I expected him to acknowledge my explanation
and move on to a new topic. Either that or go back to what he was
doing when I came in--probably rearranging the jewelry display,
which seems to give him a lot of satisfaction. Instead his scowl
deepened the lines on his face into deep grooves framing his mouth.
Napoleon with hemorrhoids and a hernia and a letter from Josephine
telling him she was having an affair with the gardener.
    “What future?”
    I glanced over his head at Patty and saw her
face gradually assume the color of a cherry tomato. She made the
throat slashing sign and rolled her eyes up in her head until only
the whites shone. Something tried to dawn in my awareness, but my
thoughts were still sluggish even after the double strength coffee
I’d gulped down for breakfast.
    “What future?” I squawked. Even I didn’t know
what I meant or what Odell meant. “Uhmm, my future as your valued
employee?”
    “Let’s step into my office, Ms. Caraway.”
Odell turned and strode purposefully away from me.
    “Step into your office?” Except for yesterday
when he scolded me for not getting to work until after lunch, he
hadn’t called me Ms. Caraway since the day of my interview. I was
always Susan or, when he spoke to customers, “the office girl.”
    I trudged after him. I caught a last glimpse
of Patty mouthing “sorry” at me before I turned the corner near a
shelf sagging under the weight of electronic equipment. Yeah, no
doubt the Universe was sending Patty a forgiveness ticket this