Read Online The Job by Claire Adams - Free Book Online

bleak,” Kristin says.
    Now
she’s going to try to convince me that all of my problems can be solved by
finding Mr. Right-Dick.
    “I
think the only reason I’ve been able to hold it together is because I have Jed
to lean on right now.”
    “You
should really think before you speak,” I tell her and take another shot.
    I’m
still just scratching the surface of buzzed, but that’s the way I like to keep
it. Getting drunk is annoying.
    Maybe
I’m in the minority on that one.
    “Send
him a message,” she says. “If nothing else, he’ll be someone you can talk to.
Even if you don’t ever decide to meet him, at least you two can talk. Sometimes
getting to know someone, hearing a new perspective on things is just what you
need to get through a hard time.”
    “Nope,”
I tell her. “I’m way too busy to start something, and I’m really not looking
for a casual relationship with someone, either. What
I want is…”
    I
don’t know what I want.
    “Mind
if I use your bathroom?” she asks.
    “Go
ahead,” I tell her. “You know where it is.”
    “Thanks,”
she says and gets up.
    It
should be some kind of signal that she’s asking me if she can use my bathroom,
as she hasn’t done that since I moved into my first apartment, but it doesn’t
hit me until it’s too late and she’s already running to the back with my phone
in her hand.
    I
chase her, but she locks the bathroom door before I’m even close.
    “What
are you doing?” I ask.
    “I’m
helping you make that first step,” she answers through the door.
    “Whatever
you’re doing, stop,” I tell her. “I don’t want to talk to some stranger about
the inner workings of my psyche and all the ways in which my life isn’t what I
want it to be.”
    There’s
silence for a minute. The door opens.
    “Is
that how you really feel?” she asks. “That your life isn’t what you want it to
be?”
    “Right
now, kind of, yeah,” I tell her. “I don’t always feel like this, but you’ve got
to admit things are pretty messed up right now and not just for me. Anyway,
thanks for not sending him a message.”
    “Oh,
I sent the message,” she says. “Why do you think I opened the door?”
    I
glare at her.
    “I
thought you opened the door because you gave a shit about what I was saying. It
didn’t occur to me that you only came out because you’d successfully gotten
away with doing exactly what I told you not to do.”
    The
phone beeps and Kristin jumps excitedly.
    “Ooh,
he sent you a message!”
    “Give
me the phone,” I tell her.
    “Hold
on, I want to see what he said.”
    “No,
give me the phone,” I tell her and try to grab it from her hand.
    She
pulls away, but I crowd her so she can’t pull it toward her body.
    “Give
me the phone,” I tell her again.
    “Hold
on!” she says. “I just want to see this one message, and then I’ll give it
back.”
    “That’s
it,” I tell her and proceed to do the one thing that I know will work: I start
tickling her sides.
    “Stop
it!” she wheezes through her laughter, her body doubling up. “Stop it!”
    “Give
me the phone,” I tell her.
    “Never!”
she shouts.
    “Give
me the fucking phone!”
    Finally,
I manage to pry the cellphone from her fingers and I run back to the living
room.
    Stupid
diversion or not, at least I’ve finally got a smile back on my face.
    “Fine,”
she says. “But I bet you’re going to tell me what he said anyway.”
    “I’m
not checking it,” I tell her. “I don’t even know this person.”
    “Well,
he’s already got your phone number, so that’s about the closest you’ve been to
a real date in a few years. You’re welcome,” Kristin responds.
    “How
did you get to be so smug?” I ask her.
    “It
runs in the family,” she says.
    “You
know, you’re never going to believe what happened today,” I start and proceed
to tell her about the worker who broke into my store and the resulting shouting
match I got into with the contractor.
    “Huh,”
she