Page 7 of Sizzle

Maybe it’s time to shake things up. If my hardheaded friend can change for his beloved Duckbill, I can too.

Not a total overhaul. No need to get carried away. But something small.

“You still have that punching bag out in the garage?” I ask. Elliot’s gaze jerks up to meet mine.

“You serious?” he says. “I mean, yeah, of course I do. It’s still out there. Got the power rack set up a while back, too.”

“Mind if I use them tomorrow?”

The hopeful grin that blooms on his face snags my heart and twists cruelly. It was worse than I thought if Elliot’s this excited about me doing something as small as working out again.

“Fuck yeah, man. Use them anytime, I don’t care. Now tell me what exactly it is I’m supposed to be looking at here.”

Me. Look at me.

I gulp down my beer, shoving the damning thought back into the closet in the back of my mind where it belongs.

“If you scroll down, you should see tags at the bottom. Look for something like ‘healthy comfort food,’” I say.

“Jeez. There’s a ton of posts here,” he says.

“She’s pretty good,” I say. “I think she’s local, too.”

“No shit?” More tapping. “No shit. You’re right. She’s here in the city.”

“There’s a thought,” I say. “You could email her and ask to talk to her in person. Maybe you can convince her to come on as a consultant.”

“Meaning she’d be working for me,” says Elliot, his look of triumph fading somewhat. I remember his rules, not the least of which was ‘no dating employees,’ or as he liked to put it—

“No fucking the help,” he says, looking so forlorn I have to laugh.

“I mean, it was a helluva stretch to begin with, El. Thinking she’d want you in the first place,” I say, laughing at him. He flicks a bottle cap at me.

“Give me a break, dude. I’m in mourning.”

“Look on the bright side,” I say, standing up to stretch. “She’s going to save your business. That is, if you can convince her to take you on.”

“Right,” he says. “If.”

3

Joelle

“Joelle! Phone!”

Dad’s bellowing has no doubt deafened whatever poor soul had the misfortune to call my house instead of my cell phone. I don’t remember putting the house number down on any of the applications I’d sent out lately. But then, there’d been a lot of applications the last few months.

“Be right there,” I shout. I take a deep breath and click ‘Save’ before powering down my battered old laptop. One of these days, I’ll finish a blog post in one sitting. One of these days.

Right.

Dad is posted up in his favorite easy chair in the living room, holding the cordless receiver. We’re the only people I know who still have a landline, but considering Dad’s injury I figure it’s necessary.

“Somebody named Elliot,” he says, handing over the phone. “You got a boyfriend now?”

My face heats as I shake my head furiously. I walk into the kitchen for at least the illusion of privacy before I speak.

“This is Joelle Munroe speaking.”

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