Page 1 of Double XL Mountain Men
1
Cindy
“No, Kiki. Absolutely not. I couldn’t possibly,” I frown.
My best friend and roommate shoots me a pleading look, and to my consternation, there are literally tears in her eyes.
“Please, Cindy,” she begs. “I really need to study and I can’t go out tonight. You know this exam is going to be hard because you’ve taken this class before, and you know what’s on the line if I don’t pass. My entire life!”
I let out a small huff because in fact, Idoknow what Kiki’s up against. We’re both veterinary science majors at Western University, and I’ve taken the class she’s studying for now– Intro to Bovine Anatomy. And yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s knowing the insides of a cow so well that you could practically butcher the poor animal, tend to one of its wounds, orhelp them deliver a calf. More likely, it’s all of the above because a successful vet treats animals through all phases of life.
Plus, Intro to Bovine Anatomy is a critical course for our major because as vets, Kiki and I plan on seeing alotof cows. We’re not planning to be the type of vets that open up a shop in a small town, with the majority of our clients cats, dogs, rabbits, and birds. Instead, we’re planning to become livestock veterinarians, who care for a multitude of animals including cattle, swine, goats and sheep. So yes, Intro to Bovine Anatomy is critical to our careers, and I understand when my roommate says she needs to hit the books with a vengeance.
But still, it’s Friday night, so why can’t Kiki just relax tonight, and then go hard over the weekend? I give her a serious look while planting my fists in my hips.
“Ki, it’s fine. You have more than two days to prepare,” I say in stern tone. “That’s more than enough time.”
To my consternation, Kiki really does begin to cry then, her face going blotchy as big tears roll down her cheeks.
“I know that I have exactly fifty-eight hours until my exam on Monday morning. But I needallfifty-eight hours!” she blubbers, her words coming out between heaving sobs. “I’ve calculated that I need an hour for the chuck, another hour for the ribs, another hour for the brisket, thirty minutes for the shank?—”
I cut her off.
“Kiki, you’re losing it,” I say in a gentle tone. “You’re speaking like a barbecue pit specialist and not a veterinarian. You know that we don’t use words like “brisket” and “chuck.” The correct anatomical terms are withers, back, pin, and thigh.”
“See?” Kiki bawls, her face tomato red now as tears course down her cheeks. “I’m losing it, which is why I need you to show up in my place tonight! I need to budget in some sleep in addition to my studying, otherwise, I’m absolutely going to fail on Monday. Please, Cindy, please! I’m begging you.”
Then, to my horror, my beautiful blonde friend slides off her desk chair and collapses on her knees on our dorm room floor. She clasps her hand in front of her chest before addressing me through shaking, violent sobs.
“Please, Cindy!” she pleads from her submissive position. “It’s life and death!”
My shoulders slump because Ireallydon’t want to go to a party tonight, and yet Kiki’s so desperate that I feel really bad for my buddy. She’s in a tough position, and I know what it’s like to be stressed, seeing that I’ve been in similar situations myself in the past. The difference is that I’m a huge nerd and school comes easy to me. I took Intro to Bovine Anatomy two years ago, and it was pretty straightforward, if I recollect correctly. It took some hardcore memorization, sure, but it certainly wasn’t the dumpster fire that Kiki’s experiencing right now.
Letting out a defeated sigh, I reach for my friend’s hand and pull her up to sit on her twin bed before handing her a box of tissues.
“Okay, fine,” I say in a defeated tone. “What do I have to do? It’s a catering job, right? You’re a server at an exclusive VIP party tonight.”
Kiki grabs a tissue and wipes at her red, swollen nose.
“Thanks Cindy,” she says with a pathetic sniffle. “I appreciate it. And yes, I’m working a party, but it’s notexactlycatering. It’s a little different.”
I nod.
“I know, I know. You probably have to do set-up, clean-up, and tend the bar too, right? And do you also have to help cook?”
Kiki shakes her head, still wiping at her swollen nose.
“No, not that. It’s not exactly catering, Cindy. It’s um ... a little more.”
I stare at her.
“I thought you worked for Campus Catering Services. You have the uniform because I’ve seen you wear it,” I say in a slow voice. “What do you mean, it’s different?”
My friend stares down at her clasped hands, the used Kleenex twisted into a small, sodden ball between her fingers.
“Well, I have the uniform but it’s kind of a disguise?—”
“Adisguise?” I ask in a surprised voice, my brows going up. “What do you mean? Why would you need a disguise?”
