Free No Need to Ask by Margo Candela Page B

Spanish-style home—Jillian had created a modern, luxurious but restrained showcase befitting a star who was determined to become known for her impeccable taste. Jillian had even managed to make the massive nude portrait of Maisy look like a piece of art and not just a testament to the actress’s vanity.
    As happy as Jillian had been with the results of all her hard work, working for Maisy had also put her into debt. She’d been forced to juggle credit cards as she waited for Maisy to make good on the invoices Jillian dropped off with one of Maisy’s assistants every few weeks.
    Both Jillian and Trudy cringed when Maisy stomped on the innocent glasses as she continued her tirade.
    “If they want me to show up for their stupid charity event and mention it the next time I’m on Ellen , they better move that skanky bitch as far away from me as possible. The lobby would be preferable,” Maisy yelled, mangling the last word.
    “Score two points for me,” Trudy said. As a joke, she’d given Maisy a word-of-the-day calendar for Christmas and, to her credit, Maisy seemed to be making use of it.
    They both ducked down a little lower as Maisy walked past.
    “That was bad,” Jillian sighed, knowing it was going to be one of those days. “Ms. York is on a tear. I pity you and the pair of Spanx you have to squeeze her into.”
    “She did a juice cleanse over the weekend. So eat that obscenely large muffin at your own risk of having to be squeezed into Spanx.” Trudy set the muffin on the dashboard, just out of Jillian’s reach.
    Jillian had never seen her friend happier than when they discovered that she was the same size and height as Maisy. Naturally thin and tall, Jillian had nevertheless always dreaded any occasion when she had to shed her sneakers, jeans and t-shirts. For Trudy’s sake, though, she tried on designer clothes so her friend could fit Maisy’s wardrobe without actually having to deal with the temperamental star.
    “I’m too full of self-loathing to eat.” Jillian took a sip of her latte, smiling despite how lousy she was feeling about herself. Trudy had made sure it was exactly how Jillian wanted it: no foam and extra hot. “I mean, I know it’s just sex, but why does the sex have to be so good and why does it have to be with him?”
    “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s just sex,” Trudy said, starting in on the muffin. “It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy. Again.”
    “God, no,” Jillian admitted without hesitation. “I come down with penis-induced amnesia when he calls, but that’s as far as it goes.”
    “Good,” Trudy said before taking a huge bite of muffin. “I shouldn’t be eating this, but I’m married so I don’t have to worry about having a great sex life.”
    “Your husband still being weird about the whole getting pregnant thing?” Jillian asked, knowing her friend had replaced cigarettes with baked goods for just that reason.
    “He’s putting off getting his spunk checked.” Trudy gathered the muffin crumbs on her chest and lap into the palm of her hand and opened the door to toss them out. “The thing is, the harder it gets to get pregnant, the more I want to be pregnant.”
    “It’ll happen.” Jillian reached over and patted her friend’s shoulder.
    “And it’ll happen for you, too. But promise me it won’t be with Owen,” Trudy said, not bothering to mask her concern with a light tone.
    “I promise.” Jillian crossed her heart and stared out the window. Her eyes tracked a plane as it banked away from Los Angeles and out toward the Pacific Ocean.
     
    ****
     
    Jillian batted away cobwebs as she dug into the darkest recesses of the basement of Habitat—her beloved furniture and accessory store—flashlight in hand, searching through a tangle of lamps.
    She startled when her cell phone rang in her back pocket. Jillian dusted her hands off on the front of her jeans before answering. “Hello?”
    “I’m at your place and you have no food