Page 16 of The Player's Obsession

I tap my keyboard to wake up my sleeping computer and turn on the TV mounted to the wall. It’s set to the investment channel. I spend a few minutes researching salaries online and occasionally glance at the TV. I sell some stock and invest it in a new company I’ve been eyeing. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky again.

CHAPTER8

Penelope

After working all day, my eyes are tired. I call Lucinda, whose voice sounds much better.

“What’s up with you?”

“Ugh. I have to figure out what to wear to dinner tonight.”

“Ah yes, the hot date.”

“The date I got sucked into because I lost the argument in Oliver’s kitchen.”

She snickers. “You’re too much. Is it so terrible that a football player picked you to take to dinner? Not only did he choose you, but he also wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“True. How many others has he asked out?”

“None. In fact, he doesn’t want anyone at his house when he’s there. I usually schedule his house to be cleaned when he’s on the road. I suppose the holidays messed everything up, and then, of course, I was sick.”

“You sound better, by the way.”

“I do feel better. Your soup is a miracle cure.”

“So what else can you tell me about Oliver?”

“Not much. He’s fairly private. I can report that he’s happy with the way you cleaned his place.”

“Did he call you?”

“Heavens no. In my opinion, clients only call when they want to complain. No, I did a follow-up phone call. I must say, he sounded like he was in a good mood. Maybe you had something to do with it.”

“Doubtful. We just met. If it wasn’t the first time I was cleaning his house and taking longer than expected, we would have missed each other.”

“Maybe it’s the universe's way of making sure you meet someone rich and handsome.”

“Enough about me. What’s going on with your love life?”

“You know me. Each week brings a new loser. You’ve heard all the stories. This week’s loser left his wallet at home by mistake, so I ended up paying for dinner. Shit like that only happens to me. At least, my stories provide you with endless entertainment.”

“That they do.” She’s right. I never go out and, as a result, have a non-existent love life. She’s putting herself out there and getting disappointed most of the time, but she’s tenacious. I like that about her. My family situation has affected me more than I realize. I’m normally not a pessimist, but I see myself heading into a depression if I don’t turn my life around. And by that, I mean a huge fucking U-Turn.

Lucinda tries to find the man of her dreams and dates some who have the potential to become boyfriend material, but nothing sticks. I know I don’t want to grow old alone, but I’m not sure it’s worth all the effort. I assume finding a man is like everything else in life. I have to put in tons of effort and take huge risks, like getting my heart broken, and even at that, it’s a wait-and-see game.

I pass my dresser and notice that I forgot the important pill that I take in the morning. My doctor switched me to a new birth control pill since I’ve been on the old one for so long. This one is supposed to be better and with fewer side effects. I have no clue what to believe. I don’t even know why I’m on the damn thing. I haven’t been with a man in over a year. I toss the pill in my mouth and wash it down with the tea in my hand.

“What do you think I should wear?” I ask Lucinda.

“Something that you won’t wear to work,” she answers so quickly I’m worried all my selections are wrong. What’s wrong with matching dresses, pants, and jackets in blue and black? It takes the guesswork out of dressing. I call it a win-win. It’s the no-frills wardrobe; ironically, my life has become as uneventful as the static clothes hanging off the metal hangers. Where did the wonder of trying new food go? Destinations are driving from one job to another. Whatever happened to a road trip or a flight to somewhere I’ve never been? I love adventure, and yet, I’m crippled. My body hurts from the stress or cold. I can’t be sure, but my brain is screaming stress.

“Fine, I don’t want to look like a hooker or a Puritan.”

“Right. You don’t have much.”

“Really?” I gasp before setting my tea on my dresser.

“You haven’t been out on a date in months. Ever since your brother arrived, you’ve kept to yourself. It’s not normal. You only go out on the weekends because I drag you out. Going to the same places every week is getting old. On our budget, we can’t afford the prime rib dinners and girls’ night at the casinos. Now, that might be fun.”

---