Chapter Eight
�Tell me again what that means,� Rajani said as we sat in the student parking lot, the engine on accessory so the air conditioning will run, waiting for Chris to get his ass over to Cobalt.
�It means �If I�m in your way after one year, then it�s bye bye to the good girl in me.��
�How do you remember that?�
�It�s my favorite song, so I looked up the lyrics. It�s actually a sweet song.�
�Is it about bo-oys?� Rajani said, stretching out the word boys.
�Yes, in fact, it is. Specifically about relationships with them, and dedication, and stuff.�
�It kinda reminds me of a Prince song, what with the futuristic music and whatnots.� Rajani flipped down her visor and messed around with her hair. �Oh, there�s Chris now. I�ll scoot to the back seat.� She leapt out of her seat and quickly took a seat in the back, behind me, as Chris approached. He knocked on the passenger door and I mouthed the word �Unlocked� to him, so he smiled and opened it up.
�Hey there, dolls, sorry to be late but my teacher was harassing me about a test. Here, Eva, put this CD in.� Chris handed me a blank CD before getting into the back, next to Rajani. Shrugging, I ejected my CD, marked �Otome Gumi�, and put his CD in. I started the engine to the opening strains of a Backstreet Boys song.
�Backstreet Boys? I used to LOVE them back in the day!� I gasped as �Everybody� began to play.
�Oh my God, we�re back again!� Rajani, Chris, and I all sang as I backed out of my spot and set off for the bridge to Panama City Beach.
�I used to think Nick was hot,� I confessed.
�Me too!� Chris squealed.
�Am I original?� Rajani queried along with the Backstreet Boys.
�Yeah,� Chris and I answered.
�Am I the only one?�
�Yeah!�
�Am I sexual?�
�Yeah!�
�Chris, you just appeased the eleven-year-old still hiding inside of me. �Ppreciate it, cuh!� I chirped, joking like I was a gangsta.
�It ain�t no thing,� Chris declared in reply.
�So where does this bombshell live?� Rajani asked.
�You might not believe it if I tell you,� I prefaced.
�Why not?�
�Well, maybe you will, but he lives in Orangeville. Alone.�
�Wow, he must be loaded, right?� Chris suggested.
�I think so,� I said, lying just a little. I wonder if he�ll pay me for the job we just did. I should ask him about that, but in private. I don�t want the Dream Team thinking he�s my sugar daddy or something unsavory like that. Soon enough, we pulled into Orangeville, while �As Long as You Love Me� was playing, and I parked in my normal alcove.
�Nice place,� Rajani said in awe as she exited Cobalt.
�Agreed,� Chris added. �Right by the beach. Didn�t they tear down some old motel to build this?�
�Yeah, that one that people said was infested with asbestos,� Rajani said with a vigorous nod. �Or maybe it was rats. Or maybe it was rats with asbestos. Can rats transmit asbestos?� She went on about asbestos all the way until we were at the doorstep of loft number 2677 and I could tell that she was nervous, too. You and me both, sister. I rang the doorbell and there was a quick answer, reminding me immediately of Robbie. Boss came to the door, dressed in a shirt that said �Damn!� on it nine times in a 70s font and blue jeans, and smiled widely.
�So you two must be the Dream Team Eva is always telling me about,� he said immediately. �I�m Gabe. It�s a pleasure to meet you both.�
�Rajani,� Rajani said immediately, pointing to herself and smiling.
�I�m Chris,� Chris added with a smile.
�And I�m Rick James,� I said jokingly.
�Get your crazy ass in the loft,� Boss commanded. We all followed him inside.
�Ah, this is a nice place, Gabe,� Rajani blurted out.
�Agreed,� Chris said.
�Well, thank you both. I�m making iced tea. It�s almost done.� Boss rushed over to his kitchen to attend to the iced tea while I showed the Dream Team to the main area.
�Damn, look at the size of that TV!� Chris exclaimed. �I�ll bet you could see all of Uma Thurman�s pores on this thing!�
�Oh, this computer is great,� Rajani said upon seeing the Mac computer. �Must�ve cost a pretty penny.�
�Whoa, he sleeps over there?� Chris asked in awe, pointing to the stairs up to the bed.
�You bet,� Boss interjected, bringing four cups of extra-sweet iced tea over. �This isn�t that bagged shit, either. This is that good shit.�
�You make it sound like drugs, sweetie,� I pointed out as I took my cup and removed a third of its contents in one gulp.
�So, Gabe,� Rajani said after sipping daintily at her cup. �Tell us a little about yourself.�
�Well, I�m a Cancer, I�m 20 years old, I go to Gulf Coast and I might transfer out to go somewhere else sometime. I�m not really sure if I will, though, because I really like Panama City Beach.� I must admit that Boss really remembered his fake back story. I was amazed by how well he remembered it, actually. I suppose that if you wear a mask for long enough, you forget who you were underneath it. But did he practice this? I wonder.
�That�s cool, that�s cool,� Chris said, putting an empty cup on the coffee table. The guy eats and drinks like a tornado. �What kind of movies do you like?�
�Tarantino,� Boss replied quickly.
�Oh, Eva, he�s a perfect match, isn�t he?� Rajani joked. �She�s always saying she would have Tarantino�s babies if she could.� Rajani laughed.
�It�s true,� I muttered, my eyes angling down past my newly red cheeks, an act that got everyone else to laugh.
This whole meet-the-friends event went very well. We were talking about just whatever, from Simpsons to sexual preference, until nearly 8:00, when Rajani and Chris both expressed concerns about being able to get home. I shooed them out into the hallway so that I could have even just a moment alone with Boss.
�That went well,� I said, exhaling a huge sigh of relief.
�You were scared that it wouldn�t, weren�t you?� Boss suggested.
�Perhaps,� I said mysteriously, but Boss knew that meant yes.
�You had nothing to worry about. Think they liked my iced tea?� All of us had at least two refills each of the tea.
�No, I don�t think so,� I said sarcastically. �Perhaps they were just humoring you.�
�Well, I only buy that gourmet shit,� Boss explained.
�Say, when should you meet my parents?� I asked unexpectedly.
�Ooh, the old meeting the parents. Last time I did that was a complete disaster.� I didn�t ask. �I hope it isn�t this time. I don�t know. Let�s wait and see.�
�Also, my prom is on April 16.�
�That�s a Saturday.�
�Thank you, Captain Obvious. That, you see, is my indirect way of asking if you would like to accompany me.�
�I�d love to.� Boss smiled warmly.
�Cool.�
�Oh, shit, while we�re talking about future events and before you go. I have some business in Atlanta to attend to next week.�
�That�s my spring break,� I said glumly.
�Most people are happy about spring break.�
�I�m not. Mom, Dad, and Mike are going to Orlando for the whole week, and I know Rajani and Chris are going to tour their respective colleges. You�re going out of town, too?�
�Ah, but with one distinction. I�ll only be gone until Wednesday.�
�That�s a good thing. I�ll assuage myself with movies or something until then.�
�Sounds like a plan. Goodnight, Eva.�
�Goodnight, Boss.� And with another kiss, I was off again.
---
Everyone�s gone out of town for Spring Break except me. Rajani�s gone to Miami to tour the University of Miami and will be back on Saturday because she wants to see what Miami is all about. Chris went to New York City for a similar fact-finding mission, except this one is for New York University, and he�s back on Sunday because he wants to explore NYC a bit more (and perhaps sit in on a Saturday Night Live taping). Boss will be back on Wednesday. Finally, Mom, Dad, and Mike went off to Orlando for the entire week. I have the house all to myself.
It�s so lonely. There�s only so much to watch on TV before it�s all the same and I�ve already had a movie marathon. It�s Tuesday. 500 channels and nothing�s on. Fucking Dish Network. So, I went outside.
It�s 9:30 at night, a perfect time for going out onto the beach. Like I�ve noticed before, it�s never crowded, and the only people around are generally the last of the beachcombers, leaving with their bounties of shells. I�m afforded a great degree of privacy. I sat down, letting my feet sink into the sand, and thought about things. Soon it will be my senior prom. I am going with a guy. This is that kind of realization that makes you sit down, it�s so shocking. Of course, it�s a good shocking. I wonder what color dress I should buy. What color best accentuates my features? How about accessories? I don�t wear earrings, so I�ll use my neck as the biggest selling point of my outfit. It�s nice, anyway, or Mom has always said so. It�s very long and swan-like�
I don�t know where I am or how I ended up here. My head throbs and I feel very dizzy. I�m in a dank basement with a cold concrete floor and no windows. There has to be some sort of light source somewhere, but I can�t see it. It is pitch-black. I feel cold all over. As I sat up off the floor, I realize the reason that I am so terribly cold. I�m naked.
There are so many questions running through my head right now, but the prevailing one pertains to the present location of my clothes. I can�t see a damned thing, so I crawled around, my hands out in front of me, trying to find something like a light switch or a soft pile of cotton. I haven�t found a thing yet. All I feel is the cold, cold floor.
How long have I been here? When I left my house, I wasn�t wearing a watch and I didn�t have my cell phone. Are my parents home yet? Is Boss home yet? I�m scared, cold, hungry, alone, and naked.
Up until now, I�ve been silent, but I figure now is as good a time as ever to start screaming. I opened my mouth, trying to produce a good wail, but nothing but a small �meep� comes out. I�ve never been able to scream on command. I�ve always needed some sort of stimuli, like a rollercoaster ride, to make me scream, but I sure can talk loudly. So, I do.
�Where am I? Hey, I�m down here! Someone help me! I�m in the basement! I think! Someone let me out of here!� I wailed, pounding on the walls (I think) until I�m pretty sure my knuckles bled. When my throat and hands started to hurt from overuse, I stopped and curl up into the fetal position. Presently, I heard thumping noises above me and they drew closer to me. I hope it�s the police or Boss or someone I can trust. But they�ll have to see me naked. Damn, damn, damn! Well, the police deal with weird shit all the time. As for Boss�I felt my face getting redder.
A door opened, casting a thin slice of light into the basement. I saw a silhouette on the stairs of a tall, burly man. He seems too burly to be Boss, but maybe he�s a policeman. He opened the door just far enough for him to slip through and walked down a flight of stairs very slowly, each step sounding like a heartbeat to me. I tightened my steel grip on myself.
�Quit making so much fucking noise!� the man bellowed in a deep, gravel voice with some sort of thick indeterminate accent. I�ve always done well at understanding foreign accents. I can usually place them, too, but I can�t place this one. He flipped a light switch, which activated the one light in the room, a bare bulb swinging from a chain. The light flickered before settling on being turned on, but it�s not bright at all. �If I�d known you�d make so much god-damned noise, I wouldn�t have picked you up.�
�Who are you?� I cried out. �Where am I? Why am I naked?�
�Eh, you deserve some answers.� The man stood near me, his presence looming over me. He had a shock of blond hair and a meaty, hideous face with a large scar down his right cheek. �I am Ivan. You are here in my house. The reason you are nude is about to be discerned.�
�What kind of answer is that, Ivan?� I barked.
�In my old country, women do not disrespect men like this,� he told me, his steely eyes boring holes through my soul. �I am going to show you the meaning of respect.� Before I can do or say anything, he grabbed both of my wrists and pinned me to the wall. He presses himself against me and I am filled with a searing hot fear. No, no, no, I�m a virgin, please don�t, I have a boyfriend, I didn�t mean what I said, I�m scared, just let me go home�Why aren�t my vocal cords working now?
Help. Help. Help. Help. I felt him unzipping his pants. He�s going to do it. He�s not going to care. Help. Help. Help. Help. Lord, help me somehow. Send me a sign that I�m not going to be raped. Please.
Ivan stiffened and I opened one eye carefully to see my surroundings. Ivan�s throat suddenly has a ruby red gash in it, deep and fresh. He stared at me now with eyes that will never blink again. He will not succeed in his mission. Someone has caused him to fail. I opened my other eye, slowly, tentatively, and see a figure clothed in a black trench coat in front of me.
�Boss?� I asked the air softly.
�Eva,� he replied. Though I am very much naked and very much scared, I dove deep into his waiting arms after he shoved the now-deceased Ivan aside, allowing his corpse to fall over. The tears start coming like a fountain. Boss took off his coat and wrapped it around my figure. I am surrounded by his love.
---
Upstairs, after we found my clothes and I put them back on, though I don�t take off the coat, we sat down on a musty couch and I started with the questions.
�How did you know I was here?� I asked.
�The person I was looking for in Atlanta moved back here. I literally just got into the city when I was told about that, so I had to turn around and drive right back home. What a waste of gas that was. I was looking for the man who lives here with Ivan. His name is Peter. He traps girls on the beach and brings them here. Then, he offers them up to Ivan. I guess it�s a junior-senior thing. Peter�s providing for Ivan. Or, he was.� I noticed Peter was dead, too, but he was felled by a bullet. He lay in the living room nearby.
�I was alone on the beach on Tuesday night. What day is it?�
�Wednesday. It�s Wednesday night.�
�So it hasn�t been that long.� Suddenly, Boss gasped and stared at my forehead.
�You�ve been knocked out for most of the time. When you get a chance, look in a mirror. You�ve got a pretty bad bruise.� He reached out to touch it and I automatically drew back, fearing how much it could hurt. �I have to look at it. I�m sorry if it hurts.� I moved closer to him to let him look at my bruise. He used his pinky�the weakest finger�to touch it, but even that small amount of pressure caused my head to hurt like never before. I let out a little wail and drew back again. �Well, it�s not that big. That might be consolation.�
�I could try to cover it with makeup,� I said weakly. �I want to go home.�
The ride back home was silent except for the sound of the engine doing its work. I was too visibly shaken by this whole experience to say anything. I don�t know if I want to go on the beach again. I know Ivan and Peter are both dead, but what if there are more people like them out there? My head hurts just thinking about it.
---
I don�t want to be alone. Boss realized this as soon as we got back home, so he offered to hang around for a little while. I turned on the TV and tried to assuage myself with some news. As much as I adore Anderson Cooper, the news tonight is so depressing, no matter how well he reads it or where he strategically places the raised eyebrow, as if to suggest that the story isn�t worth his time. Yet, I don�t want it to be silent, so I keep the news on.
Soon enough, Boss wandered in with a Ziploc bag full of ice. He sat down next to me, put his arm around me, and handed me the bag, which I gently placed against my head. Even that hurt, though, so I cringed at the pain and the numbness of it all. I left Boss for a moment to go look in the bathroom mirror, just to see how bad this bruise was. I�m horrified. It�s roughly the size of a golf ball and is a sickly red color all over. I know that, soon, the colors will change and make it look even more disgusting. As I viewed my face for the first time, I felt scared. When I blinked, I saw Ivan, holding me down.
I was able to have a good, proper cry, the one that makes your eyes dry and red afterwards, the one that keeps you heaving like you�re going to start all over again, even though you�re sure that your tear ducts are completely empty. This extended period of showers lasted until nearly midnight. Boss took me downstairs and put me in bed. As he pulled the covers up around my neck, I realized that I was going to be alone and partially unguarded in this house.
�I�m going to be alone,� I murmured. �I don�t want to be alone.�
There are some men out there that are just good. They perform selfless acts of kindness, like holding the door open for a woman whose hands are full, complimenting their significant other on anything, or staying for the night with a girl who was absolutely sure that she was going to be violated. That�s not to say that anything sexual happened that night between Boss and me; nothing did. However, I felt safe with him right there. I was able to go to sleep.
I love him. I haven�t told him yet, but I think I�m going to tell him soon. I don�t ever want to leave his side. I know that I eventually have to, what with school and everything, but that doesn�t mean I want to.
Boss stayed with me all next day. He made me breakfast and we watched Pulp Fiction together. Twice. That night, I asked him to stay with me again and he did. I still haven�t found a way to say the words I want yet.
Friday came, signaling the eventual returns of everyone close to me. I came to realize that I just spent spring break in the most unorthodox way ever. Spring break for seniors is generally portrayed as a time to go to a beach town or island and get drunk off your ass. However, I live in a beach town already and don�t want to drink alcohol. Instead, I spent spring break at home, almost got violated, and I am now realizing that I love Boss with everything I�ve got.
I want him to stay over again until my parents are back and I feel safe again. He does, but I can�t sleep. I looked over at my clock, its red luminescent numbers telling me that it was nearing 1 AM.
�Ugh, can�t sleep,� I told the air.
�Me neither,� I heard Boss reply.
�Really?�
�Nope.� He turned over to face me.
�Then I�m not alone.� I heard him chuckle. �Hey Boss.�
�Yeah.�
�I�ve got a question.�
�Hit me.�
�Do you think I�m pretty?�
�I think you�re the most beautiful woman in the world.�
�I�m not a woman.�
There was a pause.
�Do you want to become one?�
I answered yes.
---
He fucking ditched me. Heh, fucking. I woke up the next morning� it�s Saturday, isn�t it? And he was gone, like he�d never been there. I looked over at my clock and realized it was nearing 11 in the morning. How long had I been awake last night? I remember being unable to sleep at 1 AM and then�I don�t really want to talk about that part. It�s private.
I adjusted the strap on my tank top and let out a sigh. I thought that it was going to be better than this. I thought there would be fanfare and trumpets and someone there to finally stamp my V card, the one that many people I knew had stamped back when they were 14, 15, or 16. I had to wait until 18 to have mine stamped. Does that make me pathetic?
I went over to my computer, figuring I could at least e-mail Rajani and ask her for guidance on this issue. As I awoke it from its sleep, it alerted me to the fact that Rajani had just signed on to iChat. Perfect. I rubbed my hands together and sat down at the computer.
TarantinoRoxMySox: Buenos dias!
RajMahal: Buon giorno to you too.
TarantinoRoxMySox: So, what�s up? Where are you?
RajMahal: I�m at your dad�s Starbucks. Just got home from Miami and I�m getting something to drink. What�s up with you?
TarantinoRoxMySox: I have something to tell you.
RajMahal: Is it about car insurance?
TarantinoRoxMySox: WTF, no!
RajMahal: Just checking. What�s on your mind?
TarantinoRoxMySox: Well, you know Gabe�
RajMahal: Umm, of course I do.
TarantinoRoxMySox: Well, you see, he and I�
RajMahal: Evangeline Annabelle Lyle, I swear on my gran�s grave, if you don�t tell me what is up right now I am going to hunt you down. This wi-fi service is costing me!
TarantinoRoxMySox: I�ll talk to Dad about getting it to you for free.
RajMahal: How about the more serious issue?
TarantinoRoxMySox: Fine, fine. We did it.
RajMahal: Oooooh, you did IT?!
TarantinoRoxMySox: Fuck you, Rajani.
RajMahal: Actually, that seems like something you and Gabe did, am I wrong?
TarantinoRoxMySox: Um, you�re right.
But why did I feel so embarrassed by even typing that out? I couldn�t even bring myself to type s-e-x. There has to be something wrong with me. Should I voice these concerns to my longest-lasting friend? I know, deep down, that I should.
TarantinoRoxMySox: But I don�t feel so good about it all.
RajMahal: You�re at home, right?
TarantinoRoxMySox: Yes.
RajMahal: You just hang on. I�m coming round. Do you want anything from Starbucks?
TarantinoRoxMySox: Venti caramel Frappuccino, if you please.
RajMahal: I�ll be right there.
(RajMahal has signed off.)
I didn�t feel the need to change clothes, but I did feel the sudden need to burn my sheets and get a new set. The thought of what had been done in them made my skin crawl. I went to the closet and poked around in there for some other sheets, finding a set of Sailor Moon sheets from when I was much, much younger. Good enough. I tore my current sheets from the mattress, purging my bed of its sins, and threw the Moon sheets on. They would do until I could go to Target and get a more mature set. I looked with discontent upon the shunned sheets, grabbed a trash bag, and shoved them inside. Perhaps burning them wouldn�t be the best idea�there�s plastic there now and that doesn�t burn well�but I could throw them out like any other American would do. I marched outside and tossed those cursed sheets into the trash can right as Rajani pulled up in her sleek silver car.
�Raj!� I called out as she got out of the car.
�Eva, beta, it�s so good to see you again! Say, can I do my laundry while I�m here?� Rajani extracted a mesh bag bulging with clothes from her car trunk.
�Sure,� I replied with a nod. She followed me back into my room, where the first thing she saw was�you guessed it�the Sailor Moon sheets. �Are we going for nostalgic feelings or something?� She laughed and sat on the bed. �Oh, here�s your big-ass drink, beta. Now, what�s wrong?� I noticed that Rajani was calling me beta, a term of endearment used in India. I was determined to match her lingual prowess.
�Well, Rajani-chan,� I began, using the number one term of endearment in Japanese. �I guess�� I took a deep sip of the drink, feeling the caramel goodness surge into my mouth. �I�m just having buyer�s remorse, except I didn�t buy what I got.�
�Beta, nobody likes their first time, except for actors in Hollywood movies! Let me tell you, in Bollywood movies, at least nobody feels any sexual shame because there�s never any sex! Just dancing!� Rajani threw her hands into the air, which meant that she could possibly leap to her feet and start emulating her favorite film, something called Devdas.
�Lots and lots of dancing,� I butted in, which met with a frown from Rajani.
�Couldn�t expect you round-eyes to understand the appeal,� she joked, sticking her tongue out at me. �Back to the pressing issue at hand. Here�s the advantage to asking me this advice: I won�t be biased towards the side of the girl at the sexual buffet who just can�t get enough. Listen, beta, and listen well. This is your body, and it is nobody else�s. If you don�t want some guy sticking his whatsit all up in you, then you can say no! And before you accost me with all these unfounded fears that, for some reason, Gabe will leave you because of this decision, should you choose to make it, if he really fancies you then he won�t leave just because of that.� Rajani paused to take a sip of her drink. �Now, if he happens to find out that you�re an axe-wielding maniac, that might persuade him to dash.�
�Fuck you!� I shouted, throwing a pillow at her.
�And you�re a pillow-wielding maniac, too!� Rajani shouted in retaliation. She stayed around long enough to do her laundry, both wash and dry, and then she left me so she could go back home. Her advice lingered in my head and I knew there was only one thing I could conceivably do. I had to call him.
I grabbed my cell phone, seated myself on my bed, Sailor Moon sheets and all, and dialed his number. As the phone rang, my heart beat like a drum. I owed him so much�after all, he did save me from that freak Ivan�so did I even deserve to do this to him? In my head, Rajani slapped me for having a stupid thought like that, so I stayed on the line.
�Hello?� he asked, sounding obviously busy with something. I took the plunge, much like the Olympic diver does from the board positioned somewhere in the fucking stratosphere, and ended up with a terrible bout of logorrhea.
�OK! First of all, you fucked me and left me and that is just WRONG, sir! You could have at least stayed until morning or something just to ask how I was doing! Second of all, I am not okay with this! This makes me feel nasty and disgusting and kind of sinful and I don�t want to do it anymore! And if you try to guilt-trip me into doing only God knows what, well then fuck you and goodbye! I am not some man�s plaything; I am a sentient being with a brain, and a well-functioning one at that! I may not be good at math, but I�m good at knowing when someone is playing me for a fool! You better not be playing me for a fool, Boss! You better not be!� Then I ran out of saliva, so I had to stop.
�By it, you mean sex, right?� Ugh!! There he goes with the s word!
�Yes, I mean sex. What do you think I meant, gardening?� Hello, sarcasm, my old friend.
�You�re a funny one, Eva. Very witty, I must say. If you don�t want to do sexual things, that�s okay, too. It can be a very jarring experience.�
�Are you serious? You�re okay with me being like this?�
�More than okay. You�re more than just a fuckbuddy, Eva. I love you, so I�ll stay with you even if you don�t want to do those sorts of things.�
�Good. And while we�re on serious subjects, you know my school�s prom is coming up soon.�
�Ah, good times. What do you youngsters play at prom now?�
�Mostly shitty music. What did you geezers play at prom?�
�Mostly shitty music.�
�How could I have guessed? The musical aspect makes me madder than a dog in a tub of fleas, but perhaps we could rebel against it from the inside or something.�
�What�s this �we� you refer to?�
�Um�you and me.� I traced the outline of Sailor Moon�s hair with my finger. How did she ever get it into those weird balls? �It�ll be on April 16.�
�That�s not too far off. When were you planning to ask me this?�
�I don�t know. I�m not very good at any of this stuff.�
�It�s not that you�re no good, it�s that you�re inexperienced, but I�m here to help you get experienced.�
�Like the Jimi Hendrix album.�
�But with less acid.�
�Oh, that was the best part.�
�You�re crazy. You know that, if I take you to this prom, which I will, that I�ll have to be introduced to your parents somehow.�
�Shit, you�re right.�
�I�ll start crafting a story. When I have it all hammered out, I�ll tell you so you won�t screw it up.�
�Thanks. I would probably screw it up.�
�You need to be more confident in yourself, you know that? You really sell yourself short in a lot of different ways. The most obvious, of course, being relationships.�
�Right��
�Make sure to tell me which color dress you bought, too. I don�t want to buy the wrong color outfit, because that would be both tacky and a waste of money.�
�I�ll do that.�
�I gotta go. I�ll talk to you later, okay?�
�Okay. Gabe?�
�Yeah?�
�I, um, just�thanks for not feeding me to the wolves because I�m not a sex kitten, okay?� As I said that, Tommy came over, clearly in want of either attention or food.
�It�s really no problem. Love you.�
�You too. Bye!�
�Bye.�
I picked up Tommy and placed her on my bed.
�I have some shopping to do!� I declared to her, using that voice you use when you talk to a cat, i.e. somewhat of a baby talk voice. Of course, she didn�t care until I started to pet her stomach. Cats are so easy to love, aren�t they? Oh, I�d better watch out. I�ll become one of those crazy cat ladies.
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