Page 113 of Unexpected Hero

“Only a few weeks in a new place, and you’re already emerging from your cocoon. How does it feel to take charge of your sexuality? Do you see your body as an instrument of pleasure yet?”

I hold my hand up, palm facing the floor, and wobble it back and forth. “Sort of. I’m not all the way there. I still felt guilty as hell, queasy even. But at least I did it.”

“Oh my gosh, Lettie. I’m so proud of you,” she squeals and claps.

The noise and movement startle the devil dragon on her shoulder. Pumpkin scurries down her arm and off the screen.

Like the irrational nutjob I am, I instantly bolt up, fully expecting the lizard to come around the edge of my propped-up phone any second now.

I’m a mess.

As soon as common-sense returns, I realize my dumpy hotel room is still sans lizard and sit back down on the bed.

When I look back at Stella, she’s laughing at me from behind her cupped hand. “Did you honestly think she was going to come out of the phone onto your lap?”

“Shut up. My fear of reptiles isn’t rational. It’s a phobia.”

When she’s done laughing and pointing at me, she gathers herself in a yoga lotus pose. She even pinches her fingers, hovering them slightly over her knees, and takes a steadying breath to rid herself of the remaining giggles.

Drama queen.

“Where were we? Ah yes. My best friend in life, sexually repressed Violet Anastasia Holt, has popped two more cherries. A watching porn cherry and masturbating to book smut cherry. Which leads me to two questions.”

“Question one?”

“Did you also masturbate while watching porn? If so, that’s a third cherry. Popping three cherries in one night is big news. I may need to send you a gift basket.”

With a tight grin, I close my eyes and nod my silent confession. “I couldn’t help it, Stella. It was so fucking hot.”

“Holy shit! May I please post about this on the TC? The public deserves to know.”

“Shut your face hole,” I tease.

She holds up her pointer finger toward the roof. “Hold on. Hold on. There’s a fourth cherry.”

“What?”

“You worked a shift in a sex club, where you likely witnessed sex in person. That’s cherry-worthy.” She leans forward, lowering her jaw. “Eh? Eh? Whadaya say, kid? Four cherries? Eh?”

My laugh echoes off the grungy walls. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Four cherries in one night.”

“I’m high-fiving you and sending all the sexy energy to you through the interwebs. I’m so fucking psyched for you. Only a few more cherries to go, and you’ll no longer be Sexually Repressie Bessie.”

“I accept your sexy energy. But please, let’s move on. We have other topics on the agenda.”

Her mouth rounds, and she bounces a few times with impatience or an objection. “Oh, wait, wait, wait. I have one more question before we go to the next item on the docket.”

“Hold, please. Let me consult with counsel.” I pantomime covering the nonexistent microphone and having a side bar with no one. “Continue with your cross-examination, counselor.”

“Thank you. My question is this. What position and or scene description had you so hot and bothered while simultaneously confused enough to look at porn, i.e., Satan’s Netflix?”

I palm my forehead and groan playfully before dragging my hand down my entire face. “Okay, don’t judge me.”

Cringing, she sucks in a gulp of air, making a hissing sound. “Oh, I hate to tell you this, but that’s a foregone conclusion. I’ve been judging you since the day we first met when you asked to borrow a pencil from Elizabeth Ranne by writing her a note with an actual pencil.”

I cross my arms, shooting her a scathing look. “Very fucking funny. That never happened.”

“Your denial is adorable, but I have the note. It’s been hidden in a shoe box ever since. I kept it as proof of your mental state in the event that I was found murdered. I wanted to be sure the cops could look at the most obvious suspect first. And don’t think you can find the letter and destroy it. I’ve sent copies to Wendy Hendricks and Katy Curio.”

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