Free The Housewife Assassin's Relationship Survival Guide by Josie Brown Page B

secure all exits so that he can’t escape, he doesn’t freak out. Instead, he says, “Honey, let’s talk through your feelings.” 
    Next, when you waterboard him, it only takes two dunks before he gives the safety phrase, “I can’t live without you!”
    And finally, he jumps at the chance at getting a big old heart with your name on it tattooed on his bicep. (Granted, it beats the alternative: having it branded on his ass.)
     

    Now Arnie is practically living at the house, too. He claims it’s needed so that Emma can do sweeps of the text messages found on Benjamin Rooney and Richard Higginbotham’s smart phones, but my guess is that he’s afraid Jeff is moving in on his turf. 
    A ten-year-old? Really? Gimme a break. Spies are a paranoid group. For that matter, so are immature techies.
    Not to mention Arnie is just another mouth to feed, which is why I’ve sent Jack to the Hilldale Whole Foods, to stack up on vittles. This mission is costing us a mint, what with Emma’s strict adherence to a vegan diet. 
    The only good news is that Jeff is eating healthier in order to impress her, unlike Arnie, who slips out to his car every so often to snag one of the Twinkies he’s hidden in the trunk.
    He slams it quickly when he sees me walk out to get the mail, but the proof that he’s feeding his heartache is the cream on his lips. I swipe the back of his hand across his mouth. When he sees the smear, he shrugs. “What does it matter? She doesn’t even know I’m here.”
    “Don’t kid yourself. She’s quite aware of you. She’s just waiting for you to make your move.”
    His jaw drops halfway to his chest. “Wow. Really? Is that what you think?”
    “Arnie, I don’t think. I know. So, why don’t you ask her out on a date?” 
    “I…I guess I could.” While he contemplates this exotic notion, he stuffs the Twinkie wrapper into the pocket of his sagging jeans. “What do you think, a meal and a movie?”
    “Sure, that’s a start. Yelp up a five-star vegan joint. Afterwards, take her to a foreign flick. Maybe something German and existential.” 
    He frowns. “You don’t think I could talk her into heading over to Chili’s for some baby back ribs, then the  Star Wars  retrospective in Culver City?”
     “You’re trying to impress her, not gross her out.” Seeing the devastated look on his face, I quickly add, “It’s okay to have different tastes. Opposites attract, yada yada. But if you really want Emma to see you in a different light, you’re going to have to show her you’re willing to get out of your comfort zone.”
    “I get it.” He sighs. “I figure if it worked for Sarek Xtmprszntwlfd and Amanda Grayson, it can work for Emma and me.”
    “Say what?”
    “Spock’s parents. You know, in  Star Trek . His father is a cool-headed Vulcan, while his mom is an Earthling.”
    It’s times like these I want to smack this boy silly. However, bitch-slapping an Acme asset will only put me in Dutch with the boss man, so instead I give him a shove in the direction of the house. “Do it now, before Jeff gets home from school and tries to impress her by shooting twenty baskets in a row.”
    It works for all the little mean girls in his class, so he’s trying it on Emma. Yes, he’s as clueless as Arnie. But in his defense, of course, he’s yet to hit puberty.
    “You see what I mean? I can’t compete against a jock, no matter their age!” Arnie rambles back into the house, and just in time, the lucky duck. Penelope, Tiffy and Hayley drive up, catching me like a deer in headlights. As I rack my brain for an excuse I can give them for whatever torture they’ve hatched for me, Hayley waves me over with a white envelope.
    “Donna, this was delivered to my house, but it seems to be yours,” she shouts.
    I guess the only way to shut her up is to do it with my fist in her mouth, so I head over her way. “What exactly is it?”
    “I don’t know. Something from Carl, perhaps?” She holds