Page 31 of Idle

Oh. My. God. “Jesse. I’m so sorry.”

Before I can process this news—let alone ask a follow-up question, he says, “It’s a lifetime ago. I was only fourteen at the time. Hmm, I’ve lived as long without her as with her.” He gets to his feet. “C’mon, we have a lot of work to do.”

I stand and we begin demolishing the kitchen before we can rebuild it with a pre-war era modern flair.

Days later, we’re in the elimination round at the ViewPad. Our design was met with approval from the judges. They loved our relocated laundry room and the hidden pantry. They did note, with disapproval, that we didn’t use two-toned cabinets, but I’m still optimistic we’ll continue in the competition.

While we wait for Quinn to get the camera angles correct, Nancy pipes up about her design and how the judgeslovedthe spacious laundry room. Good for her. Robbie adds that the judges were positive about their kitchen, too, especially their backsplash. Neither Jesse nor I share anything, although Mary Margaret comments that Bo did a phenomenal job with their bar stools.

Jesse created cool-looking ones, too, but I keep my mouth shut. Bet our laundry room blew anything they did away. Jesse’s folding ironing board attached to the interior of the door was a surprise hit. Who knew people still used those things?

Quinn hushes us and gives final notes about blocking before Miss Antonia breezes in. I want her job. No work, walk in and read lines, then disappear. Collect a nice paycheck too, I bet. Although, I’ve seen her work on other shows, and she seems to have earned this cushy role. Maybe my effort here will do the same for me. I flick my hair away from my eyes.

The host reads the judges’ comments about each of our kitchens, dining, and laundry rooms. Our washer-dryer combo received the highest marks, as we were the only ones to have relocated it. I shoot Jesse a sideways glance. He offers a slight nod, then returns his attention to Miss Antonia.

As for the kitchens themselves, Bo gets high praise for his stools, like Mary Alice said. Good for them. Frank and Robbie’s backsplash and counter combination are noted, while Nancy and Dan’s choice of flooring was deemed “unusual.” Finally our pantry is given high marks for creativity and function.

Please, oh please, kick off the chatterbox.

My prayer soon is answered—Nancy and Dan are told to pack their tools. I give Dan a big hug and wish him luck. He’ll need it with her. Bet they don’t make it to the airport, although who knows? He could like the sound of her voice as much as she does.

After they leave to pack their stuff, Quinn suggests we rest up, because the second half of the show is going to be even more difficult—we’re moving to the private spaces.

When she, plus the ousted contestants leave, the six of us start chattering about our experiences thus far. They congratulate us for relocating the laundry room. Jesse praises me for designing it, so I’m compelled to explain it was his idea to move it in the first place.

“Stackables, huh?” Frank says. “Not on my bingo card. Good job.” He pats me on the back.

“Thanks. Guess it’s good not to have a history with laundry.” My chuckle earns guffaws from the group.

When it gets close to dinner time, Robbie and Frank, led by Mary Barbara, drift into the kitchen to see what meal was left in the fridge. I turn to join them with Jesse at my heels.

Bo slides in next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “Hey. Want to blow this popsicle stand? I want to try some of the vaunted food here in New York City, and I bet you’re acquainted with all the best places to go.”

Startled, I stop in my tracks. In my peripheral vision, I see Jesse’s jaw twitching. What does that mean? I find my voice while my partner continues moving forward. “Oh, I don’t know. Aren’t we supposed to stay in?”

Bo kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear. “I think you’re a bad girl, Paige. When have you ever done what you were supposed to do?”

He does have a point. If it suits me, I’ll go with it. Since Jesse’s now in the kitchen, I guess he doesn’t give a damn what I do.

Turning, I give the man with his arm around me a carefree smile. “You have a point. Put on something black and we’ll hit the city.” On his dime.

10

Jesse

Ican’t believe she agreed to go out with that hillbilly hack. What does she see in his insipid Southern drawl anyway? Pushing away from the table, I bring my half-eaten plate to the garbage and dump the perfectly good mac and cheese into it.

“Right, Jesse?”

It’s not like I could even ask her out if I want to keep my balls attached to my body, thank you Theo and Xander, but still. Why would she agree to go out with my bunkmate?

“Hey, Jesse. Do you agree?”

Mysnoringbunkmate, I amend. With dumb cowboy boots. Who wears them in New York anyway?

Someone touches my arm. “Hey, there. You ignoring us or is your mind elsewhere?”

It takes me a moment, but I focus on blonde hair first, then the shapely woman it belongs to. “Oh, sorry, Mary Ellen. Did you ask me something?”

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