Page 6 of From Fling to Ring

I’m friendly with Michaela, it’s true. But she doesn’t know everything about me, and the important piece of information she’s lacking at the moment is that I don’t even use public bathrooms unless it’s a dire emergency.

I can’t. I won’t. They creep me out. Even the nice ones in Neiman Marcus.

“Um, Michaela,” I say, my voice croaking. I cough and try to clear my throat a couple times to avoid choking, that’s how violently my body is reacting. “Did you say public restrooms?” I squeak. I can’t help it.

She either doesn’t notice or is ignoring my distress.

And I thought this woman liked me. Cared about me. Maybe even looked at me as her favorite.

That’s what pride will do for you. Leave you expecting special treatment when there is none coming your way.

She nods with enthusiasm. “Uh-huh!”

I am such a fool.

She continues explaining how this will be such a cool piece for the paper, and won’t it also be wonderful to add to my portfolio. I don’t hear much of what else she has to say, even though I nod politely, because the words public and restroom are echoing in my ears and bouncing around the inside of my skull like those balls they have in the lottery machines.

I thank her and return to my desk, the boner I had for my fresh, new hairstyle now completely limp.

Sarge knows something’s wrong the minute I return to my desk.

“Daley,” he says.

He often speaks in one and two-word sentences. Rumor has it that’s from all the drugs he’s used, but I’m not sure I believe that.

I do know one thing, though. He only calls you by your last name if he likes you.

“Hey Sarge.”

“So?” he asks.

I slump in my chair and, the birdshit on my desk, which was not bothering me a few minutes ago, is really grossing me out now. “I just got a new assignment from Michaela.”

“What?”

I take a deep breath. It hurts to even say it. “I have to write up the most disgusting bathrooms in the city.”

He leans back in his squeaky chair and grins. “Awesome.”

3

LUCY

“Not funny.”

I don’t know why, but on the way home from work I join my besties at some team event for Petal’s husband, Rake, the pro hockey player. Normally I’m happy to accompany her to these things for the free food and alcohol, and it’s really generous of her to include me and the other third of our posse, Gilly, but I am in one lousy mood.

Regardless of my fabulous new hair.

“Why not?” she quips, trying not to smile now that she sees how irked I am. “All I said was ‘that sounds like a real shitty job’.”

She side-eyes Gilly and they each bite their lip to keep from laughing.

I should leave, right now, before I murder someone. I love my best friends, and deep down, don’t really want to hurt them.

Despite the urge.

“Look, you guys, laugh all you want. I am not in a good place at this moment in time. I’m PMSing and my thong is scraping the bejesus out of my asshole.”

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