Page 12 of What Did Your Last Maid Die Of?

“Or something,” I said, buckling my seatbelt and leaning back into the seat. I took a deep breath as we rounded the corner. “Oh my gosh. That was a literal hot mess,” I said, sighing. “I’m so mad at you.”

“Oh boy. What did I do now?” Chelsea said.

“You are the one that made me get dressed up like a fool and made me head to some random law offices to apply for jobs that don’t even exist.”

“So I’m taking it you didn’t get a job.”

“You’re taking it right. There were a bunch of weirdos.”

“You do know this is Port Sunshine. The whole town consists of weirdos.” She started laughing, and I couldn’t stop myself from joining in.

“What am I thinking? This is absolutely awful.”

“Are we still going to the next law firm?” she said softly.

“I just want to go home. Actually, I just want to go and get a glass of wine or something. Oh, I’m so annoyed and so frustrated, and there was this man.”

“Oh?” She sounded interested. “What man?”

“This ridiculously obnoxious man who stared at me and asked me if I was selling Girl Scout cookies. Like, excuse me. How rude is he?”

“Oh,” Chelsea said.

“That’s all you have to say, oh?”

“Yeah.” She looked like she wanted to laugh.

“It’s not funny, Chelsea. Here I am in my best dress. Well, my most business-like yet sexy dress with my hair pressed and my red lips looking like a million dollars, and this dude’s going to ask me if I’m selling Girl Scout cookies?”

“It might not be because of what you’re wearing,” she said softly.

“Then why else would he ask me that?”

“Do you see what’s written on the front of the folder?”

“No, what?”

I looked down and read “five mint choc chip cookies, five Samoan cookies.” “What is this?” I said, my heart racing as I looked at her.

“I was helping my friend figure out how many Girl Scout cookies she wanted to order for the summer.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I wrote down the information on the front of the folder. Is it possible he saw that and just assumed?”

“I guess,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “Oh my gosh. He most probably thinks I’m such a jackass.”

“Well, I mean, he doesn’t know you so…”

“Girl, I told him that I thought he was the mailman and that I was an attorney that graduated first from Harvard Law School.”

Chelsea burst out laughing.

“What? It’s not funny.”

“I mean, it’s kind of funny. You, a Harvard Law School graduate?”

“I could get into Harvard Law School. We don’t know that.”

“I mean, anything is possible,” she said. “I could marry Brad Pitt. You could marry Henry Cavill.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no,” I said, laughing.

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