Page 6 of The Problem with Fire
I looked back at Sayer, and he had his head cocked, looking at me like I must have a bathroom cabinet full of prescriptions.
I grinned.
At least, I hoped it looked like a grin.
“Conserve the water,” I announced like a goddamn lunatic. “Save the planet.” Then I turned around and practically ran around the hood of my car to my walkway and up the front porch. I couldn’t get the lock opened fast enough, but once I had, I raced inside for cover.
Once I was safely inside my house, my purse and briefcase dropped to the floor just inside the doorway, and I slid down against the front door until my ass hit the floor.
Save the planet?
Really??
I reached over and pulled my phone out of my purse. I dialed Karma, and I thanked God that she answered, and wasn’t busy doing mother/wife stuff.
“What’s up?”
“My neighbor was outside washing his car with his shirt off, and when our neighbor Kerry came over to join in on the conversation, I told them to make sure they conserve water to save the planet,” I confessed like a loser. There was a pause of utter disbelief before I had to pull the phone away from my ear because Karma’s laughs had gotten so loud.
What an asshole.
“Karma!”
“Oh, God,” she rushed out. “Oh, God…Mon…”
“Quit laughing, damn it! This is serious!” I screeched. “Now I’m going to have to sell my house and move away!”
She got herself under control long enough to ask, “What did he say?”
“Nothing,” I grumbled. “I practically ran inside before he or Kerry could say anything.”
“Sweet Jesus, Monroe,” she laughed, though her cackles had simmered down a bit.
“It’s not funny, Karma,” I insisted. “The guy turns me into a bumbling idiot.”
“Awe, Mon,” she said warmly, “why don’t you just ask him out already?”
“Are you insane?” I choked out. “Talk about out of my league.”
“Stop it,” she scolded. “You are beautiful, Monroe. Even if that snatch napkin couldn’t see it, you are. That sexy neighbor of yours should count his lucky stars that he makes you a bumbling idiot.”
“Even if he did find me attractive, Karm, I doubt my looks are good enough to offset my crazy,” I told her, mentally reliving my idiocy earlier. “No one wants to date someone who’s crazy.”
“But you’re not crazy, babe,” she corrected. “He just makes youactcrazy.”
“Not to mention, the guy is thirty-five, Karma. I’m about to hit forty,” I pointed out.
“Last I checked, thirty-five was way above the legal consent age. And by all accounts, it seems as if he’s doing all the things that grown men do, Monroe,” she replied, not bother to hide her sarcasm at all. “You know, like hold down a job, buy a home, purchase condoms legally.”
“You’re not helping,” I remarked.
“I’m not helping you hide,” she clarified. “But I am trying to help you get laid.”
“I don’t need help getting laid,” I denied. “I need help selling my house, so I can move.”
Karma let out a deep sigh. “That’s it,” she said, invoking her mom voice. “When we get back from camping, we’re going out, and we’re getting you laid.” An automatic denial was ready on my lips, but…
I really, really, really wanted to have sex with something that didn’t require batteries.
