“Yeah, maybe,” I snorted. “But no hot ladies,” I warned. “We’d never get Dirty Sap out of the office. He’d be in here flirting with her all day. Isn’t that right, Sap?”
But Sap wasn’t paying attention. He was looking out the large front window into the parking lot, a grin slowly spreading across his stubble-filled, wrinkled face. “Well I’ll be . . .”
I dropped my pack as we watched Clara, aka Ms. Chickenshit, and two other women walking toward the door.
“Oh shit,” Marcus groaned. “I wonder what she wants.” The woman was sure one to leave an impression. After Clara had stormed off that day not so long before, we’d had a good laugh about it. What else could we do? It was obvious to us she simply had no sense of humor and a very large stick stuck up her ass. One of the women with her, a tall, dark-skinned woman, zoomed past her and rushed in the door.
She was bouncing like a two-year-old as she asked, “Bathroom?”
“For paying customers only,” Marcus replied as he slid off his chair and moved to stand beside me.
“I have to pee so badly, my eyeballs are floating, sir,” she argued with a hint of attitude. “So unless you want me to go right here on your floor, I suggest you tell me where in the h-e-double hockey-sticks the bathroom is.”
Marcus and I cut a look to each other. Was this chick for real? Who in the hell says, ‘h-e-double-hockey-sticks’?
“Third door on the right, down this hall,” Sap replied, his face still lit with a grin. Dirty bastard. As the woman bulldozed through us like a defensive lineman, Clara and the other woman entered. Clara had her hair up in a messy knot and she wore those weird capris sweatpants things, with a white tank top. The tiny woman with her wore a pair of black shorts that I later noticed had Juicy written across the back, with a huge sweatshirt with a picture of a skull on it. When they walked in, the small woman looked around. Clara met my stare dead-on and squared her shoulders.
“Mr. James.”
I’d almost called her by my favorite nickname. For the few days we laughed about her after her failure to jump, we’d called her a shrew. I doubted that would go over well just then, so, crossing my arms, I replied, “That’d be me.”
Darting her gaze to Marcus, her mouth twisted, and she rolled her eyes before looking to me again. “I’m sure you remember me.”
“I remember you,” Sap piped up, flexing his eyebrows up and down a few times.
The woman standing beside Clara snorted a laugh out at his words. Just then, the tall one came back in from the bathroom. She stopped, looked to Marcus, and said, “You’re out of toilet paper.”
Marcus scowled at her. “We’ll get right on that.”
“So this is it?” the tall woman asked as she took a slow spin around, taking in the room. “It does need a little revamping, but you’ll get it there.”
“Excuse me?” I laughed at her absurd statement.
“Just needs some TLC,” Clara sighed, as she too looked around.
“Where’s the bathroom, Vanessa?” the short woman requested.
“Down the hall, third door on the right. But they need to put some TP in there.”
The short woman looked to me, then to Marcus, where we both stood with our arms crossed. Neither of us offered to restock the bathroom for her, nor would we. Who in the hell are these women and why did the shrew come back here?
“Come with me, darling,” Sap told her as he gestured a hand down the hall. “I’ll get you what you need.” Goddamn it, Sap! As he led her down the hall, he walked about two steps behind her, stopped, twisted his head, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Juicy?” he almost mouthed the question before turning back and following her. Marcus gave me a sly look as his mouth curled up on one side in humor. Obviously he was checking out her ass. Sap was a dirty old man, but we loved it.
“So this is the guy?” the tall one questioned as she jabbed a thumb in my direction. Before Clara could respond, she added, “Great day, girl. You weren’t lying about how hot he is.”
Clara’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as her cheeks flamed red. “Vanessa!” she hissed as she slapped her friend’s arm.
“What?” Vanessa whined as she rubbed her arm. “You said it.”
I couldn’t help but take a stab at her. “You hear that, Marcus? I’m hot.”
Clara closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing herself not to respond to me goading her. Marcus fluttered his lashes at me and chuckled, and started coughing because he wanted to outright laugh, but was fighting it. The one we now knew as Vanessa bolted toward him and raised his arms above his head, smacking him on the back. “Get it out, little man,” she said.
Marcus immediately jerked free and backed away from her. “What the hell are you doing, lady?” he choked out.
“When my kids cough like that, I raise their arms above their heads and it helps them get it out.”
“I’m not a kid, lady!” Marcus wheezed.
“She was only trying to help,” Clara defended her friend, her hands on her hips.