“No spark,” he said as he giggled.
“None whatsoever.” I laughed. “It’s like incest.”
“If only, right?”
I nodded, brushing his hair out of his face. “No one’s gonna love me as much as you do.”
He stopped laughing then, suddenly serious. “You just wait,” he said quietly. “I promise. You’ll see.” He kissed the tip of my nose and sank back down onto my chest. “Besides, we’re both bottoms. What would we have done? Bumped boy pussies?”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Shut up and watch the movie.”
And he did exactly that, right where he belonged.
Vince Taylor.
I sighed like a forlorn school girl waiting on her sparkling vampire boyfriend.
Oh sweat balls.
MONDAYS suck.
“Mrs. Jackson,” I tried for the sixth time. “Mrs. Jackson.” I lowered the volume on my headset, waiting for Mrs. Jackson to finish.
“Do you know who I am?” she screamed into the phone. “Do you know who the fuck I am? You better do what I say!”
I bit back every single sarcastic remark I could have possibly said and took a deep breath. “Mrs. Jackson, this is the tenth time we’ve had this conversation. There is no coverage for your accident because you let your insurance policy lapse. When you don’t pay your insurance bill, you don’t have insurance.”
“Are you being condescending?” she shouted. “I know my rights. I am an American citizen.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said. “But I don’t know what that has to do with this conversation. You could be from Botswana and we’d still be having this conversation.”
“You better hope I never see you on the streets,” she growled. “Because if I did, I would cut you.”
Gee, another threat. “Mrs. Jackson,” I said, trying to keep the boredom out of my voice, “it seems I have to remind you again that these phone calls are monitored and we take threats very seriously.” Well, we didn’t, actually. I don’t think I know of anyone that has been murdered doing my job. Plus, she lived like three states away, so she would have had to take a bit of a road trip if she was going to really cut me.
“You gonna fix my car?” she snapped at me, ignoring me completely.
“No, ma’am. We can’t give you something you haven’t paid for.”
“You mother is a whore!” she screamed at me before she hung up.
“Yeesh,” I muttered, hanging up the phone and taking off my headset.
“What’d she threaten you with this time?” Sandy asked, looking over at me from his jail cell… er, cubicle, across the way.
“She’s going to cut me,” I sighed.
He grinned. “How wonderfully ghetto. You’re the only person I know of who works here that gets people to threaten you with physical violence.”
I rolled my eyes. “What can I say? The melodious sound of my voice obviously brings out the best in people. When are we going to quit and open up our surf shop?”
Sandy laughed. “Well, first we have to move to a place that has water. Then we have to learn how to surf. Then we need to learn how to operate a small business. Then we need to find the capital to open such a business. And then we can open our surf shop.”
“So… tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he agreed. “But, on the bright side, it’s now 8:32 in the morning, and we only have eight hours until we get to leave.”
“So much time,” I moaned, banging my head on my desk. “This place is sucking out my soul. I should have been a romance novelist by now. Or, at the very least, had my own reality TV show where cameras follow me around as I get into all kinds of shenanigans.”