Page 8 of Just So You Know, I Don't Work Friday

“Hold on, Chelsea’s calling me… I’m going to add her on three-way.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath as I got into my 2013 Toyota Corolla that was meant to be gold but looked more like rust. My car was old and barely running, but I loved it because it was all mine. I put on my seat belt and waited patiently for Polly to connect the call. Chelsea was my youngest sister. We were all super close, all born a year apart. Mom and Dad hadn’t believed in birth control until they had three young daughters under the age of five and realized they didn’t have the energy, patience, or money for any more kids.

“What’s happening, bitches?” Chelsea sang into the phone in her annoyingI’m the youngest, and I can get away with everythingway voice.

“Harriet lost her job,” Polly answered right away.

“What?” Chelsea groaned. “So I guess you’re not getting us three tickets to see Ed Sheeran in Tampa next month?”

“What am I to you two? A cash cow?” I growled. “No, I can’t afford any tickets. In fact—”

“She can’t even pay her rent,” Polly cut me off. “She was insolent to some city slicker and got the boot.”

“Oh no.” Chelsea giggled. “Mom always said your big mouth would get you into trouble.”

“What! You don’t even know what happened.”

“You’re always going on,” Polly added. “Use that mouth for good, Harriet.”

“Yeah, like giving Tommy a blowy when he wants one,” Chelsea added, and they both laughed. Like this was a funny situation. Did they not understand how screwed I was?

“You guys suck,” I exclaimed. “This is serious, and Tommy wishes I gave him a blowy.”

“We know,” Chelsea added. “Isn’t that why he dumped you?”

“No,” I lied. “It ended because we weren’t compatible.”

“You weren’t compatible because he wanted you to give him blow jobs on your days off and you just wanted to cuddle.” Polly laughed. “I heard that Louisa’s giving him what he wants now.”

“Oh well, Lock-Jaw Louisa knows how to suck…” Chelsea laughed. “She could win the Guinness Book of World Records for blow jobs. I heard she blew Ol’ Man Johnson for practice last week.”

“Girls, stop gossiping,” I interjected, but I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Ol’ Man Johnson is lucky he didn’t have a heart attack. He must have been shocked that his little wiener was getting some action after so many years.”

“Ha-ha.” Polly snorted as she laughed, and I could feel myself calming down. I loved my sisters, even if they were the most annoying people I knew. We were all quirky in the Campbell family, thanks to our kooky mom and dad. We hadn’t stood a chance of being normal. Our dad was an inventor of the weirdest, most obscure products that no one ever needed, and our mom was an artist who painted dogs for a living. But not realistic portraits. No, Mom made her dogs superheroes with capes, and each one was fighting a villain of her choosing. She was a talented painter, but her work wasn’t in great demand.

“What am I going to do?” I asked them, my voice suddenly dropping. “I needed that job.”

“You’ll find something else.” Polly was the practical one. “What about at the butcher’s?” Maybe not so practical.

“What am I going to do at the butcher’s?”

“Hack up the—”

“Polly!” I shouted. “Really?”

“Now I see why you got fired,” Chelsea added. “You know I’d let you stay with me, but they don’t let us have people stay over at the dorm.”

“It’s fine. I haven’t been evicted yet.” I sighed as I made my way home. “I’ll have to figure something out. Maybe I can draw paintings of tourists at the beach.”

“Yes!” Polly said excitedly. “You’re an amazing artist. People will pay you a lot of money for portraits.”

“Meh!” I sighed. “You know I prefer my abstract paintings.” I had inherited my mother’s artistic side, along with her penchant for creating random pieces that weren’t super popular.

“Yes, but Karen and John Smith from Kansas don’t want your reimagined paintings of dragons. They want a lifelike painting of themselves loved-up on the beach with a heart or sunset behind them.”

“Kill me now.” I groaned. “I cannot pimp my talents out for a few bucks.”

“Yeah, far better to live on the street,” Chelsea added snidely. “My sister the bum.”

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