Free Want It Bad by Melinda DuChamp Page B

“No way.”
    “Come on, Carla. Take a goddamn chance. You don’t want to become one of those women who crochets all day while listening to adult contemporary radio. I gotta go. You’d better have a lot to tell me when I get home.”
    The call ended, and the music again filled the car. Soft and soothing, the perfect soundtrack for crocheting. Carla switched the station three times then turned the radio off, driving the rest of the way home in silence.
    The first thing she did upon marching into the kitchen was to pull out a bottle of the Pinot she’d failed to share with Jake the night before, wishing she’d picked up more beer instead.
    The second thing she did was check the time. Almost eight.
    She had only a few minutes to call off her appointment. Or, since Janet hadn’t given Jake her real name, maybe she didn’t have to do anything at all. Maybe she’d just curl up on the sofa, sip her wine, and the entire problem would melt away.
    Carla poured a healthy amount of Pinot into a glass and took a sip. Fruit filled her senses, chased by the smack of tannins. She took another drink, more than a sip this time, waiting for the alcohol to calm her nerves, relax her, make the fear and the challenges and the… loneliness go away.
    What the hell is wrong with me?
    Carla set down the glass and raked her hair back from her face. She’d lived with her fear of boats since she was twelve, but she’d never sought refuge in alcohol or adult contemporary music or inaction. Never in her life. Was she becoming the woman Janet feared she’d be? That she feared she’d be?
    Jesus, am I becoming my mother?
    Mom just sort of gave up after the divorce. Stopped going out. Stopped dating. Stopped taking any risks. When Mom was younger, she toured the world. Now the furthest place she travelled was the corner store to get more cigarettes.
    I love my mother, but I don’t want to be her.
    So am I willing to do something about it?
    The whole idea was crazy. Insane. Clearly she’d lost her mind. But what was the alternative? She was far too young, far too vibrant, to give in to complacency. Since she was the client, she could tell Jake what she wanted, right? She would be in the driver’s seat. And the experience might just keep her from delving into some yarn-based hobby and wrapping herself up in a safe little cocoon of numbness.
    And if the whole thing was a disaster, it wouldn’t be any worse than dates she’d suffered before. She’d end the session and walk out. And no matter what happened, she’d have a story to tell.
    Carla downed the rest of her wine. Then before she changed her mind, she marched out the door and across the lawn. When she stepped onto Jake’s porch, her legs were trembling so badly she thought they might fold. She took a deep breath, as if readying for a dive into cold water, and pressed the doorbell.
    Chimes sounded inside the house, followed by footsteps.
    Carla smoothed her hands over her hair. She’d forgotten to change from her business suit, or at least take off the jacket. But that didn’t matter. The suit made her feel powerful. It reminded her she was in charge. And whether Janet deemed it sexy enough or not, Carla liked the feeling it gave her.
    The door opened, and Jake peered out. He looked like his usual sexy self, dark hair a little messy, a slight shadow of stubble on his jaw, his t-shirt snug across his chest in all the right places. “Carla, hey. You okay?”
    “I’m great.”
    “Good. After last night… I called your house earlier, but you didn’t answer.”
    “I had to work late.”
    A hint of a smile curved his lips then fell away. “I wish I could ask you in, but I’m expecting a new client to arrive any minute.”
    Here goes nothing.
    Carla raised her chin, trying to summon the confidence she was so good at displaying in court. “She’s already here.”
    Jake glanced at the road.
    “No, not out there. Uh, I’m…” Her voice took on a little quake she prayed he didn’t