Free Annihilate Me by Christina Ross Page A

you.”
    “I
miss you, too.”
    “I’ll
have her set up appointments now.   You’ll hear from her within the hour.   I’ll give you all the space you need,
because I know you’ll find something quickly.   Can I call you, at least?”
    “I
hope you do,” I replied.   “And text
me whenever you want.   I’m going to
need that to get through these next two weeks.”
    “That’s
all I needed to hear.   Talk
soon.   Text sooner.   And have fun with Blackwell.   She’ll turn everything into a Broadway
show.”
    When
Blackwell called an hour later, just as Alex promised, she was her typical
high-strung self.   “So, now it’s an
apartment,” she said.
    “I
guess it is.”
    “There
are two of you?”
    “There
are?”
    “What
do you require?”
    “A
large space.   Two bedrooms.   Two baths.   A terrace.   A nice view.   And a great kitchen.   Anything else is a bonus.”
    “I
can do all of that.   What’s your
friend’s name?”
    “Lisa
Ward.”
    “What
does she do?”
    “She
writes about zombies.”
    “She
writes about what?”
    “The
undead.”
    “Who
does that?”
    “Lisa.”
    “Well
at last the undead are thin.   Mostly
skeletal, which is good.   I could
probably dress them for her.”
    “I’ll
let her know that.”
    “Please
do.   I’ll see you in thirty
minutes.   Get ready, because it’s
going to be a whirlwind.”
    I
decided to tease her.   “Before you
go, I have a confession.”
    “You
have a what?”
    “A
confession.”
    “Save
it for a priest.”
    “In
this case, you are my priest.”
    “I’m
plugging my ears.”
    “No,
you’re not.”
    “What
is it, then?”
    “Yesterday,
I had a Big Mac.   Large fries and a
shake.   At the end of the night, I
had an entire bag of chips.   It was
fantastic.”
    “Don’t
you ever talk to me like that.”
    “I
loved it.   I thought of you the
entire time I was gorging myself.   I
also think you would have loved it.”
    “Absolutely
not.   Salad, Jennifer.   I told you.   Salad.   Roughage!”
    “I
might have gained a pound.”
    “You’re
going to be the end of me, Maine.”  

 
 
    *   *   *  

 
 
    As
usual, Blackwell got it right, and on the first try, which was no surprise to
me at this point in our relationship because she always seemed to nail it on
the first try.   I think doing so was
a source of pride for her—it’s what drove her.   But who knew—maybe she just got
lucky, though I was beginning to seriously doubt that.   She had skills I had yet to tap
into.   What mattered is that she
always came through, even though she chastised me again for my “binging
behavior” when she arrived by limousine to pick us up.
    “I
didn’t binge,” I told her when Lisa and I stepped into the car.   “I gorged.”
    “On
crap that will make you fat.   How am
I supposed to dress you for the next event?   Tell me.   How?   I can barely fit that ass of yours into
couture as it is.”
    “It
hasn’t been a problem so far.”
    “It
will be if you keep that up.”
    She
looked at Lisa and surmised her with a careful eye.   “You’re the one who writes about the
undead?”
    “I
am,” Lisa said.
    “And
you make a living doing so?”
    “I
do.”
    “The
irony!”
    Lisa
laughed.
    “What’s
wrong with writing about the living?” Blackwell asked.
    “Everything.”
    “Everything?”
    Lisa
leaned toward her.   “Don’t you think
the living disappoint?”
    “Well,”
Blackwell said, straightening.   “I
can’t exactly argue with that .   Especially after recent divorce proceedings in my life.   And I have to say, you are very pretty,
Ward.   Beautiful.   And thin.   Tiny.   Probably a coveted size zero.   Are you hearing me, Maine?   Look at how tiny she is.”
    “I’m
not listening to this.”
    “Ward,
why would you let Jennifer go on a binge like that?”
    “I
don’t control her, Ms. Blackwell.”
    “Who
can?   She’s headstrong to the tenth
degree.   I can’t