Page 18 of Pity Pact

She indicates the two chairs in front of her desk. Once we’re sitting, she says, “I thought I should make a special effort to introduce you two.”

“Why?” I’m pretty sure the horror in my voice is clear. Not-so-Chipper remains refreshingly silent.

Hallie performs a little shimmy of what appears to be excitement. “Chip is going to be onMidwestern Matchmaker, too! He’s the second person representing Elk Lake. Isn’t that exciting?”

This is not an instance where I feel the need to lie. “Not particularly.”

Not-so-Chipper, on the other hand, goes right for the jugular. “You’rethe female participant from Elk Lake?” He sounds like he just found out his hamburger was made from old roadkill.

I give him my best death glare. “Yes, Mr. Baker. I am. But you can’t represent Elk Lake because as far as I know, you don’t live here.”

“Do you know every person in town?” he demands defiantly.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I boast, “Yes.”

Hallie doesn’t quite know what’s going on, but she’s clearly getting the impression we don’t like each other. She says, “Chip just moved here from Madison.”

“Why in the world would he do that?”

“To teach school,” he snarls.

I take the opportunity to ask Hallie, “What’s wrong with Steve?”

“Infection from surgery,” she practically whispers.

A sense of dread flows through me. “Is it cancer? What’s the prognosis? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Hallie grimaces. “Not cancer, luckily. It turns out Steve wanted to have a procedure done to … um … you know … it was for Bethany.”

Not-so-Chipper reads my mind and asks, “A penile enhancement?!”

Hallie shakes her head. “Uh … no.”

“Stronger chin?” I guess. Even though Steve has a weak chin, it’s nothing I would have ever thought he’d get surgery for.

“No … he had … rather … he got some … implants.”

“Boobs?” I know the world is changing and I’m down with it, but Steve and Bethany always seemed so traditional.

“What? No, not boobs.” Hallie looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Then what kind of implants did he get? Pecks? Cheek bones? What?”

She shifts on her chair before answering, “He enhanced his posterior.”

I don’t mean to laugh but it appears stifling my reaction isbeyond my control. When I can finally talk again, I ask, “He got a Brazilian butt? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know if you noticed”—my boss leans in like she’s about to tell me a secret—“but Steve had a flat booty. Apparently, Bethany commented on it enough that he decided to buy himself some cushion as her Christmas gift.”

I’m totally and completely stunned. Steve is a Wisconsinite, not some wannabe swimsuit model. “So he got implants and now he has an infection?”

“It’s MRSA.” She grimaces. “He needs to stay in a completely sterile environment while it heals. Then he’s got to remove the implants to make sure none of the infection remains.”

This is the exact reason I’m never getting plastic surgery—shy of some horribly disfiguring accident, that is. So much can go wrong. I know this because I binge watched the showDefacedover break, and I’ve now seen enough botched nose jobs, boob implants, and tummy tucks to scare me straight.

I look to my left at Not-so-Chipper in horror that he’s Steven’s replacement. “That’s why you moved to Elk Lake.”

His face contorts in hostility. “I wasn’t going to commute that kind of distance.”

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