“Really? What book of etiquette did that come from?” I asked. “And maybe you would be getting more sex if you weren’t constantly working.”
“Working is good. Working brings in the big bucks.”
“The big bucks that you never have any time to spend because you are, say it with me, always working.”
“Hey, I treat myself. I got four appetizers for dinner last night. I’m fancy as fuck.”
“All that cheese and fat might be why you are so congested today,” I reminded her. “Food is medicine,” I reminded her.
“Well, when it smells like this, it sure is,” Vi grumbled down at her soup again as there was a knock at the door.
“Expecting someone?” Vi asked, still a little on-edge about my having a stalker and never really saying anything about it thing.
“Yes. I am having another psychotic student of mine over for tea and strip Twister,” I said, rolling my eyes as I went for the door.
“That is an unnecessary visual,” Vi griped as I opened the door for Hope who, for the first time in months, had an afternoon free.
“Oh, thank God. You brought food,” Vi said as Hope came in with a bag of what looked like Chinese food.
“Um, eat your pepper soup, you pain in the ass,” Hope said as she walked past.
“How did you know I have pepper soup?”
“It’s not pepper soup!” I insisted, throwing up my hands. “It is literally vegetable soup with noodles and a little extra pepper.”
“It’s pepper soup,” Hope countered. “But it will burn any cold or bug out of your system in all of twelve hours if you have it a couple of times. So stop being a pussy about it and eat.”
“It’s lucky neither of you went into nursing,” Vi said, but she picked up her spoon and started eating.
“Did I miss anything?” Hope asked, holding out a container of vegetable lo mein to me.
“Only the porn Billie and Rowe were filming last night. At an ungodly hour, I might add. Oh, and Billie needs a baggie of screws and washers.”
“Screws and washers for what?” Hope asked, popping open the top of her container as she propped her legs up on the chair in front of her.
“She didn’t say,” Vi said, looking over.
“Because you don’t want to know,” I told her.
“When has that ever stopped you before?” Violet asked.
“Fine. It’s the bits and bobs I need to put my sex swing back together,” I said. “Told you that you didn’t want to know,” I added when Violet grumbled.
“Ugh, I hate that I know this,” Hope said, stabbing her chopsticks into her fried rice. “But you taped the damn things to the bars of the swing itself.”
“How do you know that?” Violet asked.
“Because I was the one who had to bring her the tools to disassemble the damn thing in the first place.”
“You’re a genius,” I said, hopping up to rush into my bedroom, finding the baggie almost immediately. “I feel so much better,” I said, coming back out.
“Isn’t your man still, you know, limited with his range of motion?” Hope asked.
“He’s getting a lot better, actually. Now that he has someone around to force him to do what the doctor said, not more or less, he has been recovering a lot faster.”
“Men. They’re terrible patients,” Violet said, nodding.
“Um, hey, Pot. It’s Kettle. And, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re black,” Hope said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not that bad.”
“No, you’re worse,” I said, smiling at Vi’s mock outrage. “Hope, can you pass me chopsticks?” I asked, pointing to the set on her side of the table. She went to reach for it, then jolted hard and hissed, her face contorting in pain. “Whoa, what is that?” I asked, standing as Vi started to get off the couch as well.
“It’s nothing. Twisted wrong,” Hope insisted, but refused to make eye contact when she said it, not wanting to lie to our faces.
“That was not twisting wrong,” Violet said, coming into the kitchen.
“You stay back with all your germs. I can’t afford to get sick right now,” Hope snapped.
“Get up,” I demanded, reaching for her wrist because I knew she was going to object.
As soon as she was on her feet, I reached for her shirt, yanking it up.
“Fuck, Hope,” Vi said, mouth falling open as we both stared at the nasty bruise snaking up her side.
“It’s nothing.”
“This is not nothing,” I insisted, carefully touching the dark purple and blue flesh. “And, judging by the looks of this,” I said, spanning my hand out toward where a bruise had faded to green and yellow, “this is not the first nasty altercation you’ve gotten into recently. What the hell is going on with work, Hope?”
To that, her head fell. When she spoke, her voice came out small. “He’s back.”
“Who’s back?” Violet asked.
“My old partner.”