The Accidental Human

Chapter 1

“Wanda?”

Damn. Not Nina. Not now. “Hey, Nina. What’s up?”

“What’s up? Did you just ask me what’s up all casual-like? Have you lost your fucking mind? How could you ask me what’s up? What the hell’s up with you?”

Wanda ran a shaky finger down her list of things to prepare for tonight’s Bobbie-Sue in-home party and answered distractedly, “I don’t know what you mean.” She braced the phone against her shoulder and put her pen behind her ear. Darn, had she made enough vegetable dip? Oh, God—vegetable dip was crucial to any in-home party. A clammy sweat accumulated on her palms as she grabbed her pen and searched her list of things to do for the amount of vegetable dip she’d made.

“What do you mean you don’t know what I mean? Were you up reading those stupid romance novels into the wee hours again? What’d I tell you about reading that shit? It’s bad for your eyes, leaves you with unrealistic expectations of a man, and it keeps you up too late. Then you don’t get enough sleep, and lately, you really look like you could use some shut-eye.”

Running a finger over her throbbing temple, Wanda struggled to stay focused and ignore Nina’s gibe about her appearance. She had a damned good reason why she looked so tired. Like the biggest reason ever.

A sob welled in Wanda’s chest, begging to be set free. Breathing. She was breathing. At least for the moment, anyway. Next week? Maybe not so much. “Look, lay off the romance novels, okay? It’s my escape, and I’m not going to defend them to you for the millionth time. Besides, don’t make me break out the ‘alpha male’ card. You have one, and so does Marty. So again I say, those romance authors can’t be far off the mark. Now, I’m lost, Nina, and I have tons to do before tonight’s Bobbie-Sue extravaganza. So what are you talking about and hurry up, you cranky night dweller. I have a Bobbie-Sue in-home party this evening and I haven’t even begun to make my cheese log yet. So explain and please, by all means, do it with your potty mouth. I learn new words to add to my truck driver’s vocabulary everyday being friends with you.”

If Nina was still a breather, Wanda just knew she’d screech a frustrated sigh. Instead she huffed into the phone. “Oh, the fuck you don’t know what I mean, Ms. Schwartz. Where were you today?”

“Today?” Today… had there been anything else before today? Would there ever be anything else again?

Nina’s words hissed in her ear, screeching her perpetual infuriation. “Yes, today! You were supposed to meet Marty and me to do some shopping and have lunch, remember? You know, the ‘drag poor Nina down to the fucking fashion district and make her look at knock-off designer shit until her eyes bleed’ date we had today. I put on a ton of friggin’ sunscreen for this stupid shopping thing, Wanda. You so know what it’s like for me to be out in the sun during daylight hours, and you couldn’t even call to tell us you wouldn’t be there? I’m a vampire, for Christ’s sake, Wanda. A day trip is a lot of work for me. It’s an event. And I don’t even eat lunch anymore. Besides, do you know the hell I suffer when Marty drags me around, yapping constantly about my color wheels when you’re not there to shut her trap up?”

Hellafino. She’d totally forgotten about their lunch date. But Nina was still talking about Marty in the present tense. Which meant she’d graciously allowed her to live another day. Verrry generous.

Crap, how could she have forgotten something as important as lunch and shopping?

Because your life just came to a screeching halt this afternoon and the blue-plate special at Hogan’s with fries on the side are, in the scheme of life things, falling just a little short after today.

If she didn’t think of some excuse for why she hadn’t shown up, Nina’d drive her out of her mind with guilt, because Nina was a vampire and it was a big risk to go out in the “fucking sun” not to mention, it fried her like so much bacon. And Nina never let them forget the sacrifices she made for her friends—never.

She did, however, let them know in the way of the most colorfully, foul language. Wanda had to admire Nina’s way of letting off steam, though—even if it made her cringe when they were in public. If only she could swear openly the way Nina did.

If there was ever a day to cuss up a blue steak—today was the day.

Today.

Her heart hammered in her chest with a rhythm so loud she could hear it in her ears. Where she’d been today had an easy enough explanation—but it had taken a turn down Complication Road quite suddenly and rather drastically. Wanda scrunched her eyes shut, forcing the darkest moment of her life to the back of her mind and focused on Nina’s voice.

The one that was all filled with sarcastic guilt meant especially to make her feel like crap.

And Nina was good at it, too, because guilt settled in like a newly constructed house settles into its foundation. Wanda scrambled to make up something--anything to get Nina off her back. She had, after all, been the one to suggest they meet, have lunch and then do what she and Marty did best. Shop. While they dragged a pissy, crabby, non-fashion loving Nina behind them. But she was the crappiest liar evah and how she was going to keep where she’d been today from her two best friends in the world, escaped her. It wasn’t like she could hide what had happened—eventually she’d have to spill, but she just wasn’t ready yet. “Uh--I—I had a Bobbie-Sue emergency.”

Brilliant. Because really, eye shadow emergencies happen hourly in the world of cosmetic sales.

What multilevel cosmetics saleswoman had emergencies so severe in nature they had to skip lunch and shopping with their two best friends?

It was makeup—not world peace, as Nina had so lovingly once reminded both Wanda and Marty when they’d all been active recruits for Bobbie-Sue. Well, active was subjective for Nina. Nina had hated selling Bobbie-Sue, and, truly, if honesty sometimes went hand in hand with brutality, she’d blown at it. Major suckage. Nina’s sometimes bully like nature didn’t make for many customers. Actually, that wasn’t true in retrospect. It had made for one and that was only because Nina had scared the shit out of her and while sobbing in fear for her life, she’d bought some foundation or something. Out of luck, and out of her stenographer’s job resulting from downsizing, no one had heard Nina kvetch more than she and Marty.

Finally, Nina had found a government-funded job-retraining program, and she’d willingly given up selling Bobbie-Sue to go off to college and become a hygienist. Which hadn’t worked out so well, seeing as on her first day she ended up accidentally bitten by her very first patient—who’d turned her into a vampire and then into her life mate.

Oh, the crisis they’d seen each other through this past year or so.

“Wanda, are you paying attention?” Nina cut rudely into her thoughts.

She shook her dark head no, but said, “Uh-huh.”

“So what was the emergency?”

God, the suspicion she heard in Nina’s tone. What was this, the frickin’ Spanish Inquisition? Did she have to explain everything? “Just an emergency.” She allowed her voice to become vague.

Nina snorted into the phone. Wanda envisioned her tugging at her long, dark ponytail in irritation while her lips thinned. “Oh, reeeeaally? What happened? Did someone have a color wheel crisis? Lose their favorite lip gloss? Gouge out an eye with a mascara wand?”

Wanda’s face flushed with instant anger, and she had to grip the edge of her table to keep from telling one of her best friends in the world to shut the “F” up.

She took a deep breath and rose from her chair to peek into her fridge at the festive canapés she’d picked up for the party. “Oh, knock it off, Nina. You’re always poking fun at my job, but it pays the bills. And—I hate to be a braggart, but I do have a sky blue convertible from the sales of those in color crisis. So stop snarking on me for selling cosmetics at Bobbie-Sue for a living and accept my deepest apologies for not showing up today.” Wench.

Nina tapped on the phone with what Wanda figured was her unpainted fingernail. “Yeahhh, sure, Wanda. Okay, and now, the truth, and don’t goddamn lie to me again. Not for one second do I believe you’d miss lunch and fucking shopping, Wanda--we are talking clothes here--because you had some Bobbie-Sue crisis. So spew,” she demanded in the way Nina was so gifted at. When Nina wanted something, she’d beat you up for it. If not physically, then with her potty mouth.

Wanda ran a hand over her grainy eyes. She did have a good reason. Just not one she was willing to share right now. She fought the sudden rush of tears and the lump in her throat. If she played up the fact that Nina was right—which Nina liked nothing more than to be, that’d shut her up. At least temporarily.

Appease, appease, appease. That was how to deal with Nina Blackman-Statleon. In fact, if appeasing were a qualification for a job, between Marty and Nina, Wanda’d have a Swiss chalet and a yacht. All she ever did with the two of them was appease them. Buffer their arguments—make nice. Stand between them when Nina threatened to rip Marty’s head off and shit down her neck. It was exhausting.

How the three of them had become friends should be on the world’s list of greatest mysteries. Right up there with Stonehenge and crop circles.

But she loved them regardless and if they had even the slightest sense of what was going on with her and why she’d missed their lunch/shopping date, they’d roll over her like a pair of Mack trucks and she just wasn’t up to that right now.

Not today.

So she gave in. “Hookay, you win. See me fly my white flag in defeat. You’re right, Nina. I’m a putz. A total a-hole for missing our date. It’s definitely the crappiest thing I’ve ever done. In fact, the friend police should come and haul my bad-friend butt away and throw me into the pokey. Happy?” Taking a deep breath, Wanda waited. She could mentally see Nina cocking her head, then absorbing Wanda’s statement, smiling with glib satisfaction.

Nina’s tone lightened instantly, even if her harsh words implied differently. “Damn right they should.”

Voila. One cranky vampire pacified. “Okay, consider it done. I promise to turn myself in after my Bobbie-Sue party tonight. So is there anything else you want to rag on me for, or are we good to go for today?”

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t you make me sound like some nagging fishwife for giving a rat’s ass about you, Wanda. Don’t even. If it weren’t for you and Marty, I wouldn’t be doing all this sappy-crappy shit like caring or worrying or being BFFS.”

“If it weren’t for me and Marty, Nina, you’d have no BFFS,” she reminded her caustically. “And yes, I know. We’ve dragged you kicking and screaming into the world of the sensitive, the courteous. We should hang our heads in shame. What were we thinking? Now mind your manners, you—you—meanie-butt.”

“Oh, c’mon now. You can do better than that. Go on and call me something really shitty. Like a bitch. You know you want to,” she taunted back.

“I do not.”

“Do.”

“Nina?”

“Wanda?”

“Stop goading me. Jesus! You call me a nag? I don’t want to call you the B word. I’ll just sinisterly think it when I’m alone late at night, plotting your demise. And don’t think for one second I don’t think the words you throw around like you’re flinging mud. I do. I just don’t say them out loud, because it’s crass and un-Bobbie-Sue-like. Now, I do want to go back to what I was doing, which was trying to make a living if that’s okay with you and the gestapo.”

Nina’s voice suddenly softened, something that had occurred more and more lately since she’d met her life mate, Greg. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Marty and I were just worried is all. I mean, Jesus Christ, Wanda. We couldn’t reach you by cell, you weren’t at home, and I can’t remember a time when we couldn’t get in touch with you. It was shopping…”

Which seemed utterly insignificant and meaningless compared to what she’d found out today. Who needed a discounted pair of Cole Haan’s when… Wanda halted her thoughts with a sharp tug.

No. No efin’ way was she going to linger. She didn’t have time to linger. She had a business to run and desperate housewives to offer color wheel hope to. “Yes, it was shopping, and I blew it, and I’m going to have to chalk it up to my busy schedule as of late. The Bobbie-Sue ads in the paper have exploded, and I’ve been booking in-home parties left and right.”

“Do you still put those bullshit ads in the Register, Wanda? You know, the cryptic ones that say you can earn a buttload of money part time, but really mean you have to sell your fucking soul and join the cult known as Bobbie-Sue?”

She’d get angry with Nina for mocking the multilevel sales techniques of Bobbie-Sue, but she was too damned wrung out. “Nina, sometimes you really can be the biggest of B words. It’s not cryptic, it’s enticing, and it’s written that way so people won’t miss the opportunity of a lifetime, you naysayer. Now, I really have to go because I haven’t even begun my weenies in a blanket, not to mention my cheese log. Still love me?”

Nina snorted again, that derisive, skeptical sound she made when anyone broached the subject of a deep emotion. “Love schmove. What-ever. Just don’t do that to me again, got it? I hate to worry, and you made me worry. It pissed me off. The world just isn’t right if you aren’t hounding us about being on time to get somewhere or organizing our every breath.”

A brief smile flitted across Wanda’s lips, but her gut clenched and her skin grew clammy again. Who would keep her friends on track if she didn’t? “You’re eternally pissed off, and right now, it’s because you love me and you were worried, Queen of the Night. Now, go call Marty and tell her to stop the search party. I’m fine. Just busy. I’ll see if I can’t get my hands on some AB neg to make it up to you.” Being the rarest form of blood, AB negative was a treat for vampires, because it was so hard to come by, and Nina loved her some AB neg.

Nina cackled, her laughter crisp in Wanda’s ear. “You’re a real smart ass these days, Wanda. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with you for months. You’re all fiery and mouthy, and under normal circumstances, I’d totally dig that in a fellow chick. But there can only be one mouthy woman in this trio from Hell. I’m the mouthy one in this relationship, and don’t you forget it.”

Nothing had been going on for months—she’d learned to speak up, hanging out with Nina and Marty, but that was just personal growth.

Today, well, her mouthy-ness had a whole different motivation.

Wanda blew a strand of hair out of her face and glanced at her list. “Well, just get used to it. After hanging around you and Marty, I guess I got myself a spine. They were on sale at Wal-Mart. It was a two-fer deal. Buy a set of balls and get a spine for free. I needed one so I could stand upright between you two when you go at each other like mud wrestlers, now don’t I? Besides, you only live once, right?” She slapped a hand over her mouth. Had she just said that? Shutupshutupshutup, you twit.

“No, Wanda. I don’t know. Remember? Eternal life here,” Nina joked.

Tracing a pattern over her small kitchen dinette, Wanda felt that tightening in her throat again. Yeah. Eternal life. She knew. Okay, she had to go or she’d lose her focus and turn into a total pile of poo. “I remember. How could I forget that I’m the only one in this threesome that’s of the human persuasion—especially after paranormal-palooza?”

Nina’s sardonic laughter rang in her ears. “Yeah, we’ve had some shit fly, haven’t we?”

Indeed. The three of them had had more shit fly than a horse farm. Mucho shit. “We have, and now I’m going to go make stuff you can’t eat anymore, because blood is your beverage of choice. Byyyeeeeee, vampire.” Wanda clicked the phone off before Nina could find another reason to chew her a new one.

The moment she put the phone down it rang again to the tune of “Love Story.”

Her caller ID said it was the other person she’d stood up today—Marty—Marty the werewolf. The person who was responsible for them all becoming friends and Wanda’s first ever paranormal experience—first only to Nina the vampire, that is. Ironically, Marty, too, had been accidentally bitten by Keegan, her now husband, and another one of those life mates that seemed to float all over the place completely unnoticed. If she were less secure—she might feel left out because she was so average and she couldn’t fly like Nina or shift into a shag rug like Marty. Or for that matter, live forever... But life wasn’t meant to be eternal, not on purpose anyway.

But it could be… a voice, desperate and filled with fear whispered in her head.

Oh, shut the ef up already, she mentally warned her subconscious. It could not. What was meant to be was meant to be. Accidents happened, but you didn’t purposely seek immortality.

You didn’t.

Her phone kept chirping. Damn. If she took the call, she’d only get more of what Nina had given her—it’d just be minus the cranky and involve much less swearing. If she didn’t take the call, Marty would stalk her until she answered, and she couldn’t have that in the midst of a Bobbie-Sue event. It was unseemly.

With a heavy, reluctant hand, Wanda flipped open her phone and prepared for her next blast of shit. “Yes, Marty?”

Marty’s breathing was rapid when she spat her words out. “Where have you been, Wanda Schwartz? Do you have any idea how worried Nina and I have been about you? I know I’m going to basically live forever, but eventually, wrinkles will ensue, and I think I’m getting some around the sides of my mouth. Know why?”

Wanda put Marty on speaker phone and popped open her fridge, looking for the crescent rolls and mini-weenies. “Why, Marty?”

Marty’s sigh crackled throughout Wanda’s kitchen, leaving a pinging irritated reverberation. “Because you didn’t show up today! And we were shopping, Wanda. Shop-pppiiing,” her voice raised an octave, dragging out the word with an accentuation on the letter P. “Remember—discounted designer clothes? You’re the most predictable woman I know and all of a sudden, out of the blue, no one can find you. It was like you fell off the face of the planet or something, and that’s so not like you. You don’t do unavailable. That’s Nina’s thing. Now, I want answers, and I want them this instant.”

Cracking open the tube of crescent rolls with a thwack against her countertop, Wanda sighed too. She was too tired to take issue with Marty’s demanding tone. Though less abrasive than Nina, Marty could be just as much of an incessant nag. “I already explained this to Nina, Marty. I’m sorry about missing our lunch date and yes, I know all about the sacrifices Nina makes when we do a day trip. God knows she reminded me using her favorite swear word of the day, but something came up, and I forgot all about it.”

Marty’s tongue clucked into the phone, admonishing her. “You never forget, Wanda.”

Sweet fancy Moses, was she really that predictable? Okay, so she liked things to run smoothly. Often.

All right, always.

Was it a crime to like things to come off without a hitch? Was she a bad person because she liked order and harmony in her world? Wasn’t the world a better place because of nitpicky whack-jobs like her who didn’t know how to do anything without a list and a stopwatch? Would it even matter after today? “Well, today I did. Oy and vey, just shoot me for having a lot on my plate, would ya?” Clearly, the task of keeping this afternoon’s issue to herself wasn’t going to be simple.

“No. Nuh-uh, Wanda, you don’t get off that easy.”

“Easy? This being read the riot act is easy? You’d think I missed you and Nina curing cancer.” She fought a gasp. Keep yon trap shut, Schwartz—you’re the suckiest of liars. Don’t get in too deep. Keep it simple, mouth.

“Wanda, honey? Again, I say. You never forget. If there’s a detail to be had, you’re on it like Vaseline on a beauty queen, Ms. OCD. You’re the one who’s always fifteen minutes early to a party—the one out of all three of us who coordinates everything and makes a big ole stink if we’re even two minutes late. Wasn’t it you who almost pitched a hissy in front of The House of Hwang when Nina and me were five minutes late--because of traffic, I might add--on buy one get one free mai tai night? I believe it was. So I’m not buying this ‘I’m busy,’ and I forgot gig. Now, what’s going on?”

Wanda shrugged her shoulders as if Marty were in the room with her, averting her eyes to her carefully planned weenies in a blanket. “What if I told you I was off wonking my next door neighbor Harry Stein all afternoon and we got so jiggy because, as you know, it’s been a long dry season for me since my divorce, that I blew you guys off for some white-hot sex?” Take that from good old, predictable, list-making Wanda, why don’t ya?

Marty’s laughter tinkled, bouncing off the pristine white walls of Wanda’s kitchen. “I’d laugh and laugh, and then I’d tell you to cut the delusional crap and tell me what’s going on.”

No one was going to make this easy, were they? She needed to buy herself some time so she could talk to Nina and Marty at her own speed. “Why couldn’t it have been that I was having freaky, sweaty, killa-hot sex? I like sex just as much as you and Nina and you guys are always having sex since you hooked up with Keegan and Greg. All I hear about is the incredible sex you crazy paranormals have. Well, maybe today I was having average old human sex. Whaddya think about that? Sex is good. Well, maybe not as good as it could have been had I had it with someone who knew what he was doing with his man-tool for half my adult life. My ex is a podiatrist, but I just know having sex, any kind of sex, is good. So how do you know that’s not what I was doing?”

Marty coughed on a chuckle. “Because you don’t have sex, Wanda, except for whatever you read in those romance novels. If you were having sex, you’d have told us, because both Nina and I know that eye roll you give us whenever we talk about our sex lives. It means you’re not having any and hearing about ours makes you want to puke.”

Wanda scoffed. “I don’t either want to puke and, maybe that’s all changed due to the hotness of Harry Stein.”

“Harry Stein is eighty if he’s a day, Wanda.”

“So, maybe we use Viagra. A lot of it.”

“Yeah, and maybe those white socks he wears with his sandals are an uber turn on too.”

A giggle spilled from her throat at the image Marty evoked. Yeah, okay, so Harry had been a stretch, but she’d diverted Marty successfully. “Jeez o’ Pete. Look, I swear nothing’s going on. I’ve been booking a lot of in-home parties lately, and I have one tonight. I got my dates mixed up is all. I thought we were meeting tomorrow. I’m sorry. Even us OC’s falter and you pointing that out to me only makes my OCD worse. You don’t want me to spend a month obsessively berating myself, do you? So, I already apologized to Nina and now I’ll do the same for you. I’m sorry, Marty Flaherty, and if that’s not good enough, would you consider my humble offering of a live organ?”

Finally Marty laughed, and Wanda’s deer-in-theheadlights moment passed. ”Okay, okay. We’ve just been worried lately. You always look so tired these days. Are you feeling okay?”

She felt fabulous. Grand. Dope, as Nina would say—even if she really shouldn’t. “I’m fine, really, Marty. I’m just tired because I’ve been working long hours. I totally want that new pension plan Bobbie-Sue is offering and I can’t get it if I don’t put in the extra hours.” Marty knew what ambition and Bobbie-Sue were like. At one time, Marty had sold Bobbie-Sue too and that’s how they’d all met—because Marty had recruited both Wanda and Nina.

“Fine. You’re off the hook for now, but don’t forget karaoke next week. If you think Nina bitched at you for missing our lunch date today, imagine what she’ll do if we miss a night of her caterwauling Barry Manilow at the top of her lungs.”

Rolling her eyes at the phone on the countertop, Wanda nodded her head. “I’d rather be dead than suffer the wrath of a Barry-less night.” She gulped hard. Dead… oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Wasn’t it funny how often that word was so carelessly bandied about in causal conversation? Her heart picked back up that rapid pace. She absolutely had to shut her piehole. Breathing deeper still, she closed her eyes and fought to concentrate. “Am I grounded now? Can I go, or is there more?”

Marty cleared her throat. “Don’t you get snippy with me, Wanda. Because you know I can—“

“Yeah, I know.” She began to drone the words Marty had used more than once with Nina since she’d been turned into a werewolf. “You’re a werewolf. You can take me. Nina’s a vampire. She can take me too. I’m just a plain old human with no superpowers.”

“That’s right, and don’t think I won’t kick your ‘getting skinnier by the second’ ass if you give me shit,” Marty barked.

“Marty!”

“What, honey?”

“I’m fine, but I really, really have to go. I’ve got a houseful of women coming over tonight and if I’m going to have weenies in a blanket on the menu, I need to get my tuchis in gear.”

Marty paused, her voice giving way to a warmer tone. “You go charm the socks off of more Bobbie-Sue recruits with your infamous cheese log and I’ll call ya later this week, ‘k?”

“Deal. Bye now.” Wanda clicked her phone off and blindly reached for a chair, sinking into it. Marty and Nina were right. She was tired, and today it seeped into her bones, settling in her muscles at an alarming rate.

She wanted to climb into her bed, burrow under the covers, dragging them up over her head and wait…

For the inevitable.

But it didn’t have to be the inevitable, did it? She did have friends. Friends who could help her—but if she did something that drastic—that life-altering—there was no going back. God only knew, no one knew that better than Wanda after this past year.

Her mind raced with what to do next.

Her phone chirped once more, thwarting further dilemma-wallowing. If it was Nina, calling back to give her hell again, she’d scream. Maybe she’d even swear. Yeah. Lot’s and lots of swearing—very unlike the banal non-wonking Wanda Schwartz everyone was so sure they knew so well, eh? But when she picked up the phone, she didn’t recognize the number. It could be one of the women she’d recruited via her newspaper ad and she couldn’t take a chance she’d miss someone. Swallowing her worry, she summoned her Bobbie-Sue spirit. “This is Wanda Schwartz, your Bobbie-Sue regional color advisor. How may I help you?”

Someone coughed, then cleared their throat. “Um, hello. I’m calling about the ad you placed in the Register.” It was a man someone. A man someone with a liquid silk voice. A man someone who’d just sent a shiver up her spine with said liquid silk voice.

She shifted in her seat, crossing her nylon-clad legs. A man? Answering her ad? The hell? “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes. That was my ad. How can I help you?”

There was a slight pause, as if this man on the other end was struggling to put a sentence together, but when he spoke, though his words were far from remarkable, they commanded her attention. “I’d like to know how I can earn two to five thousand extra dollars per month working only part time.”

Calling her astonished that a man had answered her ad was an understatement. A man. A real live one. Shut. Up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed, her freshly plucked eyebrows raised. “Why?” Maybe he was some kind of perv, and then she remembered he had no clue what the ad was about. Yet it was so odd for a man to answer her ad. Even though the ad was designed to be cryptic, For whatever reason, she mostly got calls from women.

“Uh, because I need a job and who wouldn’t want to know how to earn an extra two to five thousand dollars part time per month?”

Indeed. Who? But a man-who? “But… you’re a man.” Shite. She bit her lip to stop herself from blurting out anything else. When had a little ole thing like a man stopped her from using her best sales techniques? Bobbie-Sue had men’s products—they just didn’t sell them as actively as they did cosmetics. Oh, wasn’t she a sorry, sorry sales rep tonight for even questioning his gender. A recruit was a recruit.

“I am,” his voice assured her with a seductive ripple in her ear, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Is that a problem?”

Problem? Oh, no. No problems on her end. Not even one. If she got lucky, she’d snare the first ever male Bobbie-Sue color consultant. A rare bird indeed. But there might be a problem for him once he found out he’d be hawking things like Berry-Berry Blush and Wet and Wild Watermelon lipstick. “The ad I placed is to sell Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics. Um, you know, makeup. The stuff women wear, but men, not so much?”

His answer wasn’t fazed—not even a little. “And?”

“And I don’t want to state the obvious, but you’re a man.” There. She’d said it again. A man. He was a man. He had dangly bits-- that made him a man—not a woman.

“Does Bobbie-Sue have some rule against men selling their cosmetics?”

“Well, no—“

“So just by virtue of my gender, you’ve decided I can’t sell cosmetics.” His words were clipped and kinda huffy.

A flush of heat shot to her cheeks. “No! No, I would never say that. I just mean—“

“You just mean, that because I’m a man, I wouldn’t be any good at selling cosmetics, right, Ms. Schwartz?”

Ohhhhhhh, the way he said her name, all stern and reprimanding made her stomach flutter with an odd jolt. Like a flock of freshly released butterflies had just been let loose in her intestines. “Well, let’s be honest. What do you, a man, know about makeup?” Wanda shoved a fist into her mouth. Where had her Bobbie-Sue spirit gone? What if he was a drag queen and she’d just insulted the snot out of all drag queens across the land?

“Who says I can’t learn?”

Again. Point for the man. The. Man. “No one said you couldn’t learn. I’m just saying—“

“That I’m a man and men don’t know anything about the goop women put on their faces.”

She’d been this close to swearing at Nina earlier. This wannabe cosmetics selling man was bringing her that much closer. Keeping in mind her emotions were seesawing wildly after a god-awful day, she bit her tongue before speaking. “Um, look, Mr.—“

“Jefferson. Heath Jefferson.”

Heath…. Dreamy… niiiice name—sexy—very Wuthering Heights. “Okay, Heath. First of all, goop is hardly a very flattering word, now is it? And secondly, all I’m saying is, it might be harder to sell you, selling cosmetics, than it would be for you to actually sell the cosmetics, you see what I mean?”

His husky voice bristled. “No. I haven’t the foggiest what you mean. I think I got lost somewhere between my name and goop. But I believe I detect gender discrimination from this place called Bobbie-Sue.”

Oh, no. He did not. That was just what she needed. Some man screaming discrimination in relation to Bobbie-Sue. “No. Not at all. Anyone can sell Bobbie-Sue… I guess you just caught me off guard. Usually only women answer my ad.”

She heard a rustle and then a weary response. “Well, I’m a man who needs a job. Look, can I sell cosmetics in the word according to you, or not. My time at the pay phone is running out.”

Wanda was incredulous, and it showed in her response. “You don’t have a phone?”

“Um, no. So could we make this quick? I’m running low on quarters.”

“O-okay. Um, I’m having an in-home party tonight to introduce potential recruits to the Bobbie-Sue way of life.”

His sharp bark of laughter cut her off. “Way of life? Are there drugs involved?”

Wanda was aghast. Wasn’t he the one who needed a freakin’ job? How crude and insulting. “Drugs? Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even like to take aspirin unless I have to. It’s just that when you commit to Bobbie-Sue as a sales recruit, you commit to making the world a better place by sharing your knowledge of color auras with everyone around you.”

“Color auras…” Heath trailed off.

Glancing at her microwave clock, she realized time was of the essence. “Yes, color auras. Just one of the many things you’ll learn as a part of tonight’s in-home party. Now, if you’d like to join us, man or not, I’d be delighted to have you. Here’s my address.” She rattled off her home address and followed up with a cheerful, “The party begins at eight sharp. Bring your party shoes.” Clicking off the phone, she plunked it down on the table and set about finishing up her weenies in a blanket.

A man…

She shook her head. This Heath would probably never show up. No man on Earth would have the courage to come to a party where a gaggle of women were going to gather and slap goop on each other’s faces. But what a coup that’d be. The first ever male color consultant at Bobbie-Sue, and Wanda had nabbed him.

Weee doggie.

She scrambled to find her list—the one she’d made to prepare for the party, and ticked off the words cheese log and weenies in a blanket, to signify they were complete. Lists comforted her—they gave her a sense of accomplishment—they meant she had control of something.

For all the good her control would do her now.

The sinking feeling in the pit of her belly had fled while she’d been talking to Heath, but it returned with a slam to her gut when she remembered that none of this, not her perfectly rolled weenies in a blanket, her carefully planned vegetable dip, her famous cheese log, or even her man-coup would matter after today.

Wanda gripped the edge of her table, white-knuckled and fighting the shakes that wracked her body.

Seriously, what did anything matter when you were diagnosed with a terminal illness?

Like dying.

So in the spirit of her good friend Nina, Wanda thought, well, fuck.

The next list she made—was going to be a doozy.