Bitter Is The New Black Part 30

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hi, this is Joe Thompson. May I speak with Jennifer Lancaster, please?"

Joe Thompson?

How do I know that name?

"This is Jen speaking."

"Jen, hey, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. How are you?" And who are you?

"Doing well, thanks for asking. Listen, Jen, we haven't spoken in a while, but hung on to your resume because I liked your moxie." Oh, my G.o.d-this is the guy from THE MOTHER SHIP! I called him once a month for an entire year. I only stopped phoning him when he told me that he'd call me when he had something. I a.s.sumed that was his polite way of telling me to p.i.s.s off.

"Jen, I have the perfect position for you in our munic.i.p.al bonds publishing division. I want to get you in here as soon as possible for a round of interviews." He lowers his voice in a conspiratorial tone. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but your reputation precedes you and you're my first choice. Provided your interviews go well and your references check out, this job is likely yours."

The Mother Ship is finally CALLING ME HOME!!

"Yes, I'm really happy for you, but I thought you decided to try making a living as a writer," Fletch says. "Given the interest you've garnered lately, I'm surprised you'd even consider this. What do you know about munic.i.p.al bonds?"

"Well, nothing, actually, but the job wouldn't be selling bonds-it would be selling a publication about bonds." Which would be cool...right?

"Let me rephrase the question: What do you know about selling bond publications? Wouldn't you have to deal with all the financial people you used to hate?"

"No, no, I hated the stupid PR girls. The financial people were OK."

"Really? Is that why you're always going out for drinks with Ben? And exchanging pithy e-mails with the Joshes? And having your nails done with Lawrence?"

My skin crawls just a bit. "I kind of forgot about them."

"I'm all for you bringing home a paycheck, but if you have a job you hate, you won't be happy. You'll try to compensate by overindulging, and that's ultimately how we got in trouble in the first place."

I roll my eyes. "Do you think I've learned nothing in the past couple of years?"

"I'm just saying you should weigh your options."

"I will, I will. Oh, can you give me a lift that day?" Fletch is already doing so well at his new job that we were able to buy a car. Granted, it's a preowned Ford Taurus and our loan rate is one percentage point shy of usury, but it beats the h.e.l.l out of the Ashland Avenue bus.

"What time?" Fletch pulls up his schedule on his PDA.

"Does twelve thirty work?"

"Can do."

"Cool. I'm going to go do some research on the munic.i.p.al bond market now. Maybe it's more interesting than it sounds." I give Fletch a kiss and go to the den.

There is NOTHING interesting about the munic.i.p.al bond market.

I'm clad in one of my old power suits and I look fantastic.195 My shoes have been spit shined, courtesy of Fletch, and I'm still a lovely light brown from my summer bout with tanorexia.

"I'm going to grab the mail. I'll meet you outside by the car," Fletch calls up the stairs.

"OK, see you in a minute." I slick a coat of Bloom's Dolci gloss196 across my lips and I'm ready to go.

I lock up and try to ignore the sad doggie faces watching me from the window. I can't even look at them. If I feel this guilty leaving them for a couple of hours, what's it going to be like when I have to go to work every day and they're all alone?

When I get to the car, I notice a package on my seat.

"What's this?" I ask.

"It came for you in the mail."

"Really?" I tear it open and a variety of presents spill into my lap. I examine all sorts of treats, such as pretty nail polishes, a mixed CD, and bags of my favorite candy. "This is lovely!" I dig through the box searching for a note.

Jen, I wanted to send you a token of my appreciation. I know it seems weird to send you presents, especially seeing how we've never met, but your advice has been invaluable to me. It's because of your input that I didn't dump my boyfriend...or should I say my FIANCEE!

Although I wish you the best of luck with your interview, the selfish part of me hopes you'll decide to keep writing instead. Whatever you choose, thanks for inspiring me on a daily basis!

Kelly in Canada

Fletch glances at my lap as he navigates the car out of the alley. "Who's it from?"

Lost in thought, I finally reply, "A fan."

The interviews go tremendously well, and as a company, the Mother Ship is everything I ever dreamed it would be. They make me a generous offer and I should be turning cartwheels. And yet, I'm just not sure. They gave me until Monday to make a decision, which is good because I have no idea what to do right now.

On the one hand, this job is almost everything I've ever wanted in an employment situation. The benefits are great, there's a tremendous opportunity for growth, and the money is spectacular. On the other, what if I actually have the chance to start a career as a writer? The literary agency wants to me to sign with them. Although being under contract is no guarantee of success, it's definitely a leg up. My mother asked why I couldn't take the job and write, but that's not how I operate. I can only do one thing at a time, and with what I need to learn about the bond market, I can't see doing both.

Fletch has been no guidepost whatsoever. He keeps telling me to do what I think is best, and he'll support whatever decision I make. What kind of bulls.h.i.t is that?

I'm all stressed out and the fact that I just started Atkins isn't helping. I bet I could make sense of everything if I could just think about it over a plate of jelly donuts. While I'm busy crafting a decision matrix on a spreadsheet, my phone rings. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Jennifer, it's your brother! What's up, Peeg?"

"Todd, this is exactly why I almost never answer the phone when you call."

"Hey, I need you to come down here this weekend."

"Calling me Peeg is the best way to ensure I won't help you with whatever it is you need."

"Get over yourself, Peeg. We need you to babysit this weekend."

Todd has never asked me to watch his children before. For some reason, I'd been painted with the "irresponsible" brush after that time I accidentally gave the kids a book of matches.197 "I'm your last resort, aren't I?"

"Pretty much. Jean's sisters are all busy and her parents will be out of town. Mom was going to sit this weekend, but the doctor says she can't lift anything and she isn't well enough yet to drive herself down here."198 "Why doesn't Dad drive her?"

"The play-offs are on and he doesn't want to go anywhere."

I made an exception to my children-hating rule for Todd's kids. They're actually kind of fun, plus if I spoil them rotten now, I can eventually use them against my brother.199 Still, they are a handful and because they're human petri dishes, they always contaminate me. I generally spend the week after seeing them in bed surrounded by Kleenex, a vaporizer, and empty mugs sticky from hot lemonades. "Yeah, I don't think it's going to work. Sorry."

"Why not?"

"I don't like you enough to help you."

"It's not for me, it's for Jean. I've got to cover a game that night, but Jean's going away for a sorority reunion. If you don't come, she'll miss it."

Damm it, he had to go and throw the Jean card. She's the best thing that ever happened to our family. If we were the Munsters, she'd be our Marilyn. Never once has Jean pretended to shoot other Stone Mountain tourists with her golf umbrella while singing "The Sound of Music,"200 described in loving detail the corned beef she once had in Dubuque, Iowa, in 1984, while having no recollection of her child's middle name,201 or walked out of the house without remembering to put on pants.202 Wearily, I consent. "OK, fine. When should I be there?"

"Tomorrow night around five. Thanks, Peeg."

"Bite me."

"One more thing: The kids are afraid of bees, wasps, and hornets. See you tomorrow."

Huh?

You know what? Driving down to Todd's is actually a good idea. I'll have five hours each way to figure out what to do about the job. Plus I'll get to listen to all the cheesy music I like so much but am too embarra.s.sed to play in front of other people.203 I stop for gas and snacks, and in a heroic moment of self-control, I decide against the Hostess cupcakes. The Atkins diet has been working, and I rather like not having my pants hurt anymore. I go low carb and opt for a Diet Dr Pepper and some sunflower seeds. I snicker to myself because I bet Fletch just felt a chill go down his spine. I've been banned from eating them in the car since the Sunflower Seed-Stravaganza (and subsequent Car Vacuuming-Stravaganza) in 1996. What can I say? I have lousy aim.

When I get to Todd's house, the children hurl themselves at me. Max, being the middle child, feels like a cannonball when he crashes into my stomach. With Cam, the eldest, it's more like being hit with a side of beef or perhaps a small freight train.

My brother stands in the doorway laden with photography equipment and a laptop case. "Bye, kids. I'm going now." He steps outside and then ducks his head back in. "Jen, I almost forgot. The kids have already had dinner, so they should be all set. Also, try not to let Max see you eating."

"Why not?" I'm puzzled by such an odd request.

"If he sees you eat any food he doesn't like, he'll throw up."

"Gross! But I'm hungry, so tell me what he does like."

"Chicken fingers, candy, and surprisingly, clams."

As soon as Todd leaves, Cam begins his eighteen-hour monolog about the benefits of owning Yu-Gi-Oh trading cards, and I have a strange premonition of him someday trying to sell me a time-share. Little Sarah reminds me that she is pretty.

I set the kids in front of the DVD player while I clean up their dinner dishes. I'm determined to have Todd and Jean return to a sparkling house because I want it to look like I can handle things (and to convince them they would NOT have been better letting the neighbor's rottweiler watch the kids). I start to Girl Scout up the joint, leaving it in even better condition than I'd found it.

"Hey, Jen, can I have a gla.s.s of water?"

"Me, too."

"No, I don't like that gla.s.s. Can I have another?"

"Why did you put ice in here? Ice makes my tongue ouchy."

"Can I have a Mountain Dew instead?"

"I pretty!"

"Where's my straw?"

"Max spilled his again."

"TELL CAM NOT TO TOUCH ME."

"I berry pretty!"

"Can we have some popcorn?"

"No, we like the kind with b.u.t.ter."

"This doesn't taste right. Can you put some sugar in it?"

"WHEN IS MOM COMING HOME?"

"I like 'nakes!"

"Jen, can I change my shirt?"

"Hey, the DVD is skipping!"

"Can we watch Like Mike again?"

"I have to use the potty."

"I have to use the potty, too."

"I make potty in my pants!"