Free Fat Assassins by Marita Fowler

hoping you had one with Internet access.”
    “Yeah. We’ve got one, but somebody’s using it right now,” she said, waving us closer so she could whisper. “It’s Ruth. She comes in here before she goes to work sometimes.” 
    We looked over at the computer where the red headed, wrinkled woman sat inches away from the monitor typing furiously.
    “She’ll be on there forever. I checked the logs one time to see what she does for so long. She’s chatting with her boyfriend, Jackie.”
    “Jackie? I thought her and Eugene were a thing?” I asked.
    “I don’t know about Eugene, but her and Jackie have been an item for about a year now. He lives a few miles away in Hurricane at the Sacred Care nursing home. They both lost their driver licenses a couple months ago and she’s too cheap to buy a cell phone. The Internet is the only way they can talk during her workweek, but they use the public Nitro-Hurricane shuttle bus for the occasional booty call.”
    “Ewwww!” we both complained to Jennifer.
    It’s pretty pathetic that a grouchy, seventy year old woman is getting more action than me!
    “There are some big, comfy chairs in the back near the biography section if y’all want to have a seat and read some magazines while you wait. I’ll give ya a shout when she’s done.” 
    “Ok. Thanks.”
     
    We grabbed a stack of gossip magazines and settled into the pleather seats. We were nearing the end of the stack when Jennifer announced that the computer was open. The seat was still warm when we hopped on the workstation and searched for Craigslist. 
    “I guess we just select our city and state?” I clicked the blue Charleston link. “Wow. There are so many job types! Where do you think we should start?”
    “Can you just click on jobs? Maybe that will just give us a list of everything.” 
    I clicked the link and hundreds of entries popped onto the screen. I scrolled through the links looking for something that fit our skillset.
    “Look at this one!” I said, clicking the link to make the job advertisement expanded on the screen.
     
    Evolutionary Eggs is looking for special egg donors 
    Donors must be between 20 – 30 years old 
    5’4 or taller 
    Blonde/Dark Blonde/Light Brown/Medium Brown (Preferably thick hair)
    Blue/Green eyes
    Fit/athletic/model type body 
    College Education or enrolled in college
    Healthy, non-smoker, no tattoos or piercing within the last thirteen months
    Reliable, responsible and have transportation to complete this commitment.
    Compensation STARTING at $6,500.00
    If you have any immediate questions, call our office (677) NEW-EGGS.
     
    “Wow! Did you see how much they’re willing to pay?” I asked, pointing at the highlighted compensation. 
    “That’s gross! Ain’t nobody gonna roter-root my eggs!” Ulyssa exclaimed. “There’s got to be something else.”
    Hours later, we’d finished scouring every available job ad and scheduled four interviews for Monday. 
     
    The first interview was with the Dynamic Marketing, a company housed in a warehouse on the southern part of Charleston. The sleek, modern design continued into the front lobby where a plastic looking receptionist seated in front of a shimmery wall was busily chattering into her headset. “Thank you for calling Dynamic. How may I direct your call?” she purred, “please hold while I transfer your call.” 
    She scanned us from head to toe as we approached her desk. 
    “How can I help you ladies?” Purr. Purr.
    “We have a one o’clock interview with Terry.”
    “Okay. I’ll let him know you’re here. You can have a seat over there,” she said, gesturing to the black pleather seats lined against another black and silver wall. 
    A thin, mustached man emerged from behind the wall before we settled into the chairs. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki cargo pants and cowboy boots. If this was the dress code, I could handle working in a warehouse.
    “Good Afternoon! How ya doing?” he said,