Free Spooning by Darri Stephens Page A

inspired, I brought home some of Jane's, or rather the head chef's, famous toffee. Tara snickered that I was already sucked into the Diva's universe as she popped one of the toffees I had left on the table by our front door into her mouth. I headed for my room and threw a mask on to detoxify after my stressful first day; I was exhausted. I warmed some milk like my mother had done when I had an upset tummy, and I lounged in my high school sweetheart's sweatshirt, ignoring the inappropriately placed worn spots. The girls had headed out, so I had the tiny apartment all to my bloated self. When someone knocked and let themselves in, I shouted “hi” from my fetal position.
    “Hot. Very hot!” I leapt up at the sound of a male voice and looked around wildly for a blunt object. In my hasty search, I noticed a lopsided grin on my invader. He was standing in my living room. I didn't know whether to cover my holes, wipe off my mask, press stop on the Disney movie I was watching, or continue my search for the blunt object. Syd must have forgotten to lock the door again.
    “I just wanted to come by and say congrats on your first day of work.” Bells a'ringing! Were those angels singing? I still hadn't said a word. Mr. J. P. Morgan took about two steps with his well-formed lacrosse legs and, sweeping a hand under my sweatshirt, pulled me in for a long kiss. I pulled back first, I think, out of breath. On his nose was a smidge of green papayamask. I wiped the smear away. He pulled off the sweatband holding my hair back off of my head.
    “Rapunzel, Rapunzel. I like the curls,” he mumbled running his fingers through my hair. “You look busy, so I'll head out. Just wanted to say hi and give you these,” from behind his back he handed me three Gerber daisies. “Have a relaxing night.” He kissed me once more, and then strode back toward the door as suddenly as he had come, leaving me off balance. On his way out, he grabbed some of the toffee before closing the door behind him. Standing there, still wondering whether or not I had said a single word, I heard a yell. Peering through the peephole, I could see Mr. J. P. Morgan, a distorted yet still cute version of him anyway, licking his fingers at the top of the stairs.
    “Delicious!” he yelled. He liked the toffee. And he seemed to like me, green papaya mask and all! Things were looking up. I would nab this boy, and I would master that toffee recipe.

    “
F
or Pete's sake, who would ever buy this small plastic bottle of laundry detergent?” the Diva screamed from the studio. Day two had begun!
    “Everyone knows that I would buy the economy size. You buy the large bottle and then dispense it into smaller, more discreet pour bottles. Who, I mean,
who
did this?” Who, I mean who, cares!? I wondered. Obviously millions of people cared because her show raked in gazillions of dollars. I sidestepped the tantrum and darted back to my cube, escaping back into logging hell.
    By the end of the week, I was wondering if I had made a wise decision in taking the position at
S&S
. I thought that thenew girl always got a break or two during her first week, right? Wrong.
S&S
was doing a segment on ice fishing. To begin with, I had a hard time envisioning Jane's padded derrière chilling on a frozen lake. Second, mean Margaret put me in charge of finding “fishing-related gear” for Jane (so much more important than candy stuffing). After about ten minutes of scrambling on the Internet and Googling the words “ice fishing” and “gear,” I finally broke down and asked scary Margaret for some much-needed help.
    “Umm, Margaret. Can I, I mean may I ask you a question?”
    “What? I'm busy,” she mumbled from her computer.
    “Um, it will only take a sec.”
    “Fine, what?”
    “Well, what exactly do you think I should be looking for?” I asked kindly.
    “Are you kidding me?” she yelled. “Are you living in a cave? Do you not know what ice fishing is?” Oh dear Lord, big mistake