perpetual_motion | To tide you over until December.

I present the novel so far. What have I learned from NaNo? I have learned that I am not one of those people who should write a romance novel. But you know what? I'm finishing the bastard anyway.

So, for your reading enjoyment/pain, I give you the NaNo.

Word Count: 11825
Words Left: 38175

The office looked different than he remembered. He hadn’t been around in nearly six months, and it looked like Zachary had done some work to the place. Tyler stepped out of his car, hit the lock button on his key ring, and walked up to the front door. He winced at the sound of the electronic bell over the door and fought not to just yank the door closed to stop the noise. He walked to the lone desk that was situated against the far left wall and looked around for the receptionist. When he didn’t see anyone, he went to the old ‘notice that I’m here’ standby trick of clearing his throat. When a head popped out from under the desk, he had to force himself not to jump.

“May I help you?” The girl from under the desk straightened up and waved a pen in front of Tyler’s eyes as if to say ‘this is why I was down there, why do you look so shocked?’. She gave him a once-over when he didn’t say anything. “May I help you, Sir?”

The ‘sir’ snapped Tyler out of his sudden bout of paralysis. He hated being called sir. It made him feel old. Well, older than forty-three, at least. “I’m here to see Zachary Marks, Ms.-“ He searched for a nameplate on the desk.

“I don’t have one.” The girl smiled at him and suddenly looked slightly older than seventeen. She held out a hand to Tyler. “Precocious Grant.”

Tyler cocked his head at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”

“Why do you think I don’t have a nameplate? Either people *know* the word and get way too curious, or people don’t know the word and butcher it completely.” She was still holding out her hand. She waved it at him a little to get his attention. “And your name?”

“My-oh! Tyler Carey.” He shook her hand, noting that the grip was firm but still somehow feminine. “Nice to meet you.” When he let go of her hand, he felt a bit more professional again, and it felt good. She’d thrown him off with popping up from behind the desk and having such an odd name. “I have a ten o’clock appointment with Zachary Marks.”

Precocious hit a few keys on her computer and studied her screen for a few seconds. “Tyler Carey, ten o’clock, discussion of a new contract and the latest upheavals that he’s brought on himself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Zachary writes the meeting descriptions, I don’t.” Precocious smiled at him as she reached an arm across her desk and picked up the phone. She hit the ‘intercom’ button and scratched her nails on the desktop while she waited for Zachary to pick up the extension. When he didn’t, she sighed, put down the phone, and rolled her eyes. She waved Tyler to a chair. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll be back in just a moment.” She stood up from behind the desk and walked over to a large, closed door that stood caddy-corner to her desk.

Tyler watched her go and took a quick physical inventory while she was up. She was short, but not overly so. He would guess her at around five feet, four inches out of the heels she was wearing. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were gray. When she had first come out from under the desk, he had thought she was some part-time high school temp that Zachary had hired in a fit of desperation, but as he watched her move over to the door, he could tell by the way her hips curved and the confidence that she carried on herself that she was a full woman who was used to the way she moved and reacted. He put the body he was seeing with the personality he had just been introduced to and couldn’t help but wonder if there was some poor slob of a bastard with a garage band who didn’t know just how good he had it with a woman like her.

“Mr. Carey, Zachary will see you now.” Precocious had a look of annoyance on her face that was obviously not aimed at Tyler. She stepped away from the door to let Tyler enter Zachary’s office, then closed the door behind her.

Zachary was standing behind his desk staring at his phone like a genie was going to spring from it and grant him three wishes. “Hey, Tyler.”

“Hey.” Tyler put his briefcase on the floor by the chair in front of Zachary’s desk and accepted the other man’s handshake. “You look confused.”

“I don’t understand my phone.” Zachary’s index finger hovered over an orange button, but didn’t press down. “I have no idea how to work the damned thing. Precocious has been trying to show me since she started here, but I don’t get it.”

Tyler shook his head at Zachary’s lack of techno-skill and sat down in the chair. “What happened to Mrs. Slate?” Mrs. Slate had been Zachary’s assistant since, as far as Tyler could tell, the beginning of all time. She had been a severe woman who ran the office as if it were the last post for professionalism in the known world. Tyler had always been half-convinced that she starched the carpet.

“She retired and decided to move to a warmer climate.” Zachary made a disgusted face to show what he thought of the concept. “She’s living in Oklahoma, now.”

“Oklahoma? How is that a different climate than *Kansas*?”

“She swears that the wind is warmer.”

Tyler laughed. “I think you drove her out of her mind.”

Zachary held up his hands in an act of defense. “Trust me, she needed no help. She was a great assistant, but I always worried about the day when I would come in and find my paperclips organized by size, color, and shape.” He shook his head at the memories and changed the subject. “What brings you back into Kansas? I distinctly recall you swearing the place off when you moved to San Francisco with Julia two years ago.”

“She divorced me.” Tyler decided it was best to just have that bit of information thrown to the wind as opposed to being smooth about its introduction. “I walked into the house eight months ago after working twelve hours at the office that day to finish up some loose ends on an account, and she handed me divorce papers. I had tickets for a romantic week in Berlin tucked in my briefcase. She’d never been to Berlin.” Tyler saw Zachary wince in sympathy and waved him off. “Don’t bother. You never liked her.”

“I’d deny it, but it’s true. She was a shrew.”

“A shrew is someone who scolds or nags or rides your ass. She just tended to get very icy and quiet when she was pissed.” Tyler shrugged. “Not that that was much different than her usual attitude.” He squinted at Zachary. “Tell me why I married her, again?”

“I never could figure it out.” Zachary grinned a little. “I do recall you extolling on her virtues in bed.”

“Oh, yeah, the sex. It’s been so long since I’ve had it, I’ve nearly forgotten it.” Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut for a minute. “Let’s change the subject.”

“All right.” Zachary looked Tyler over. “You look pretty good for a man who probably just got reamed in his divorce.” Zachary was speaking the truth. Tyler looked a little worn-out around his eyes, the blue looked a little dim, but the he looked to be at his peak otherwise. His khakis and button-down looked impeccable, and his red hair was slicked back from his forehead in a way that could make him look either imposing or professional, depending on the attitude that came with it. His shoulders were wide, and his body was solid. He wasn’t even close to the scary physical perfection that Zachary remembered from the first time they’d met, but he looked like a man who took care of himself.

“Thanks.” Tyler nodded once at Zachary. “You look like you’ve been busy.” Zachary was thinner than Tyler remembered, reminding him briefly of the greyhound he’d once had as a kid. His hair was completely gray, and his eyes were a dull brown that would have been remarkable at all if not for the spark of intelligence and business owner madness in them. His suit was tailored to its last resort, and Zachary wore it well. “Where’d you find the new assistant?”

“Mrs. Slate recommended her. She came in one day and dropped off a resume, and Mrs. Slate walked in the next day and insisted that I hire her.”

“What’d her resume look like?”

Zachary shrugged. “I have no idea. Mrs. Slate said I could take her at her word or find my own damned assistant. Precocious’s resume had a quick and painful meeting with the shredder.”

“How convenient.” Tyler shared a grin with Zachary. Shredded resumes was a classic move by the retired Mrs. Slate. Zachary had always wondered on the sheer number of people he hired based on Mrs. Slate’s word. “Can’t say I miss the old broad. She was about as pleasant as swallowing razors.”

“So was your ex.” Zachary stood up from his desk and walked over to the mini-fridge that stood on top of a short filing cabinet. He opened it up and grabbed two bottles of water. He tossed one to Tyler. “And she didn’t send me running back to Kansas.”

“I am not here because of *her*.” Tyler sounded peeved. “I’m here because I’m moving back because San Francisco sucks.”

“You liked it well enough when you first moved out there.” Zachary tapped his finger against a postcard that was stuck under a magnet on the fridge. It showed a classic, bird’s-eye view of the Bay, complete with perfectly blue sky and a fishing boat. “Want me to read the back of this?”

“No.” Tyler was well aware of what it said.

Zachary-

Weather’s colder than I expected, but the bed’s nice and warm. Hope the Kansas winter doesn’t cause some needed parts to fall off. Take care.

-Tyler

“Don’t forget, I was still having sex on a regular basis when I wrote that.”

“Likely excuse.” Zachary sat back at his desk and pointed his water bottle at Tyler. “Do you need a job?”

If anyone else had asked straight out like Zachary, Tyler would have been offended and insisted that he didn’t make appointments to see old friends to beg for a job. They’d been friends for so long that the question was actually more comforting to hear than anything else. People in California talked like a politically correct sitcom. It was nice to hear someone be blunt for a change. “I’m fine. I made a killing in San Francisco, and I can live on it for the rest of time if I really want to. I’m taking some time off. I’ve moved back to the farm.”

“You’re kidding.” Zachary looked positively gleeful at the news. “When did you lose a bet?”

Tyler shrugged. “I needed a place to stay, and it’s been sitting there. Thanks for keeping it decent.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I rent it out as a whorehouse on the weekends. The football players love it.” Zachary grinned when Tyler laughed.

“Can’t wait for Friday night, then.”

“I’m sure-“ Zachary cut off when there was a sharp rap on his office door. “Come in.” Precocious stepped in looking a bit pained. “What is it?”

“The reps from Carrington are here. They’re fidgeting in the foyer like they’ve never been in an office before.” Precocious looked a bit peeved. “I’m about ready to drug test them.”

Tyler stood up from his chair and grabbed his briefcase. “I know a cue when I hear one. I’ll see you in a few days, Zachary.”

“Sure.” Zachary looked from Tyler to Precocious. “See when I have a free lunch next and schedule Tyler in.”

“Can do.” Precocious held the door open for Tyler, then followed him back to her desk. She pointedly ignored the small cluster of men in power suits and ties as she sat down. “When’s the best time for you?”

“I’m open for the next couple of weeks.”

“Well, that makes it easy.” She gave Tyler a quick smile that he couldn’t quite interpret as professional. “He’s open on Thursday at one.”

“That’ll be fine.” Tyler turned to leave, then changed his mind and pivoted back towards her. “I have to know, where’d the name come from?”

Precocious looked up from scrawling Tyler’s lunch with Zachary onto her desk calendar. “I didn’t cry when I was born. My mother thought it showed a great level of maturity.”

Tyler wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Okay?”

“She was a hippie.” Precocious flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Or I should say ‘is’.”

“Is?”

“She lives in one of the last communes in the country.”

Of all the explanations he had expected, a hippie parent hadn’t come up in his mind. “And how does she feel about you working for the evil corporation of Mr. Marks?”

“She doesn’t say much, but she can’t really, since Zachary is very environmentally friendly and believes in paying a living wage to the people who earn it.” Precocious grinned at Tyler, this one, he was certain, wasn’t professional. “Plus the fact that he has the same last name as her dear literary friend Karl doesn’t hurt.”

Tyler couldn’t help but smile back at her. “He spells it differently.”

“Minor detail.”

Curiosity satisfied, Tyler nodded at Precocious and left the office. It wasn’t until after he got settled back into his car that he realized that his last few minutes of discussion with her could have been taken as flirting. He hoped that she took it as an old salesman remembering one of the standards of business: suck up to the receptionists and janitors. They’re the ones who can get you places. He was sure that was how he had meant it. She was way too young to be flirting with.

*

“How was work?”

Precocious tossed her keys onto the kitchen counter and kicked off her heels. “Not overly different from yesterday.” She opened the door to the fridge and pulled out the milk carton. “How about you?”

Linda wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I had an utterly unproductive day.” She scratched her cheek where a bit of dried paint was starting to flake. “It sucked.”

“Can I see what you managed to get done?” Precocious didn’t wait for Linda to answer before she headed towards the spare room of the apartment that she and Linda had turned into a studio and study. She stopped at the door and dropped her head to the left to get a good look at the half-finished painting on the easel. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“How can you tell?” Linda stepped around Precocious and walked up to the canvas so that she almost touched it with her nose. “What shows it’s me? I can’t tell.”

“That purple streak there.” Precocious trailed her finger in the air near a large, wavy purple slash that cut the canvas into a tiny triangle at the top left and an oddly shaped pentagon. “It’s the same color as your hair.”

“You think?” Linda pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and compared its coloring to the canvas. “Yeah, I guess it’s close.”

“And that’s your eye, there.”

Linda nodded and ran her finger on the nearly dry greenish-brown paint that was situated just to the left of an orange hexagon. “Yeah.”

Precocious laughed and pointed at a red line that was about two inches long. “And that’s your height because you think you’re freakishly short.”

“I am freakishly short. Who’s four foot ten in this day and age?”

“You, and you wear it well.” Precocious nudged Linda’s shoulder with her own and gave her ponytail a tug. “It looks really good. I don’t know what you’re freaking out about.”

“I’m on deadline.”

“You’ve never missed a deadline.”

Linda shrugged. “But I’ve never felt this queasy going into one.”

“So what? You’ve never done a completely personal show before, either. You’ll be fine. And I’ll even wash out your brushes if you need some help.”

“Thanks.” Linda turned from the canvas in time to see Precocious take a drink straight from the milk carton. “I did dishes today. We’re not out of clean glasses.”

Precocious rolled her eyes. “You know, I *have* a mother.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not here, and I’m bitchy.” Linda cracked her fingers, then suddenly remembered that the phone had rung sometime in the mid-afternoon. “Someone called earlier. I haven’t checked the machine, yet.”

“I’ve got it. I’ve got to get a glass, anyway.” Precocious walked back to the kitchen and tapped the button for the machine to play back the one message it was flashing.

“Hey, Pre, it’s Chad. Just calling to say hi. Call me sometime.”

“Oh, you’ve *got* to be fucking kidding me.” Precocious forgot all about getting a glass for her milk when she threw the carton against the wall.

“I’m not cleaning that up.” Linda sounded non-plussed as she hopped up on the counter opposite the milk massacre and leaned against the microwave. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t check the machine.”

“It’s not your fault. He’s not supposed to be calling. The fucktwit.” Precocious made a noise that was somewhere between a snarl and a growl. She looked at the mess of milk on the counter and floor and grabbed the dish towel that was hanging over the faucet. “I can’t believe I ever dated him.”

“Ah, but you did.” Linda hopped down from the counter, grabbed Precocious by the arm and steered her over to her shoes. “Put those on. We’re going for comfort food.”
“I don’t do that ice cream and sappy movie shit.”

“I was thinking huge burger with bacon and onions and extra mustard.” Linda shrugged. “And then, maybe ice cream.”

“Do we still have that copy of “Evil Dead”?”

“If you didn’t put it in the ‘burn because it belonged to Chad’ box.”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t do that to Bruce.” Precocious rubbed her eyes and seemed to try to shake off the bad feelings she was having. “Burgers?”

“With extra mustard. Let’s go.” Linda slipped on the flip flops she always kept by the door and grabbed the keys to her car. "Do you want to go to the good, expensive place or the shitty, cheap place?"

"Cheap place. I want something that can kill me if I eat too much." Precocious let herself be led out the front door the apartment, down the flight of stairs to the ground, and into Linda's car. She stared moodily out of the window all the way across town.

*

Tyler sat idling at a stop light and eyed the fast food place that sat caddy corner to the light. He knew that he shouldn't go in and get something greasy and disgusting. He had a full fridge back at the house and the ability to cook, but the light on the sign looked so inviting. Tyler would have sworn, at that moment, that he was being hypnotized by the glowing orange-yellow light of the burger joint. He glanced in the rearview, slid into the left turning lane, and swung easily into the parking lot. He made himself get out of the car and go inside to order. He wasn't going to let the total allure of the place overtake him and go through the drive-thru.

"Hi, Welcome to Heart Attack Burger, what can I get for you?" The guy behind the counter looked bored out of his mind and possibly a little stoned.

"I don't know, yet." Tyler stepped away from the counter to better see the menu board and almost fell against someone. He stutter-stepped to one side and opened his mouth to apologize. He was cut off when the woman behind him smiled at him.

"Mr. Carey, how are you?" Precocious grabbed his arm before he could go sliding across the floor and helped him steady himself. She was still in her work clothes, but she looked equal parts more relaxed and stressed.

"Precocious, hi." For reasons he couldn't explain, Tyler felt suddenly nervous about her seeing him in a burger joint. "I just-"

"Came in to stop your heart? It's a good place for that." Precocious's smile was open but still somehow false. She jerked when the woman standing next to her poked her in the ribs and grimaced mildly. "Sorry, Linda. Tyler Carey, this is my roommate, Linda Sexton. Linda, this is Tyler Carey. He came into the office to talk to Zachary today."

Tyler looked at the paint-streaked hand that Linda held out and went ahead and shook it. "Nice to meet you." He was mildly surprised that his hand wasn’t multi-colored after the handshake.

"You, too." Linda looked at her hand and scratched at some paint on her thumb. "I think it's all dry."

"Good to hear." Tyler glanced between them, then back up at the menu board. "Do you eat here enough to recommend something?"

"Probably." Precocious stepped up next to Tyler, and didn't notice when her arm brushed his. "You want to avoid the hot dogs at all costs. We're not sure how long they've been around, but we're betting it's longer than strictly healthy."

"This place has almost been closed down by the health department a couple of times." Linda sounded like she was completely unimpressed by the idea. "I think the chance of food poisoning makes the whole place a little cooler."

Precocious caught the look of disbelief on Tyler's face and grinned at him. "You'll have to excuse her, she's one of those crazy artist types."

"I live on the edge." Linda said it like she was announcing she liked mayonnaise on her sandwiches.

Tyler couldn't help but smile. "I can tell." He looked at the menu board again. "So, no hot dogs?"

"Not ever." Precocious glanced over at Linda. "You ready?"

"Sure." Linda stepped up to the counter and smiled at the stoned boy. "I'll have a double-decker burger with all the heat attack fixings and extra pickle."

"Double-decker with everything and extra pickles," the boy pushed the keypad methodically. "Would you like chili fries or a soda with that?"

"Extra large soda, please." Linda watched him punch that in and slide a cup the size of a small ocean liner over the counter to her. "All yours, Precocious."

Precocious took a deep breath, as if she were steeling herself, and stepped up the counter. "Double-decker, extra onion, extra bacon, extra mustard, no tomato, lots of ketchup, and a large drink." She waited for the boy to ring it up, then turned and raised her eyebrows at Tyler. "What about you?"

Tyler was taken aback for a minute. "I've got mine."

"No, you don't. It's your first time here. It's only polite that I buy you your first killer burger." Precocious looked at him expectantly. "You wouldn't be so rude as to refuse, would you?"

In truth, Tyler was half-tempted to insist on buying his own dinner, but he could never say no when a woman asked him to stop being a perfect gentleman for a few minutes. "I suppose not." He stepped up beside her at the counter and made a wide-open gesture with his arm. "I'll even let you order for me." He couldn't help but smile at the smile she gave him.

"Brave man." Precocious grinned at the kid behind the counter. "Give me a double-decker with swiss, tomato, mushrooms, bacon, lettuce, ranch, and pickle." She glanced at Tyler. "Fries?"

"No, thanks."

"And a large soda."

The stoner behind the counter got the order punched in and read everything back in a monotone. When Precocious nodded at his callback and paid him, he handed her a plastic pyramid with a number on it and let her know, in a very dull voice, that he would be happy to bring the food out to their table when it was ready.

Tyler stood beside Precocious as they filled their cups at the soda fountain and had to laugh. "I worked fast food once. I never thought to come in stoned."

"It doesn't work on quiet nights. It just makes the time go by that much more slowly." Precocious raised her eyebrows at the surprised look Tyler gave her. "My mother is the prototype for every hippie for or since. You don’t think I didn't get stoned?"

"I didn't think about it, honestly." Tyler felt a mischievous smile go across his face. "Although, that could explain how you can handle a double decker burger."

"You'd be surprised what you learn you can eat when you're stoned."

He shrugged and followed Precocious to the table that Linda appeared to be doodling on. "Not really." He sat to the left of Linda while Precocious sat to the right. He looked down at the table top and saw it covered in overlapping pictures, some barely better than chicken scratch, others much more elaborate with shading and depth. "Is this your usual table?"

Linda didn't look up from a sketch that looked vaguely like an old Doosenberg car. "More or less. I think I have some work on the booth in the corner."

"Linda is one of the few and proud that make a living painting," Precocious explained as she sipped her soda and ran her fingers over a very basic picture of a bunny. "I have the real job that pays much less than I'm worth, and she's getting paid for canvases that have doubled as our coffee table."

Tyler couldn’t tell if Precocious was joking about her job or not. "What all do you do for Zachary? It looked like you did a lot more than answer the phone and put up with sales reps." He remembered the clutter that had been on her desk, and how it has seemed to have its own organizational system.

"I handle all the basic front office work, and I fend off customers calling about their accounts occasionally. We just had two sales reps quit because they were lazy bastards, so I've been taking care of some of their work as well." Precocious shrugged. "It's good work, and I like it, but I'm still trying for my passion." She jerked her head in Linda's direction. "We can't all get it right on the first try."

Linda looked up from a new picture she was working on. It looked like a starfish. "Hey, it's not my fault my parents handed me finger paints when I was three."

"Well, no, but did you have to *sell* the results to the neighbors for ten cents each?"

"They were willing." Linda shrugged and went back to her picture.

Precocious just rolled her eyes in a way that said, 'of course they were, you crazy artist', and gave a questioning look to Tyler. "Do you have a passion?"

He seriously considered the question for a few seconds. He couldn't remember ever being asked it before. "I don't think so." He thought about Julia. "I passionately hate my ex-wife, if that counts for anything."

"Sure. I passionately hate my ex-boyfriend." Precocious looked over as the kid from behind the counter came over with their tray of food. "Thanks."

"Yeah, whatever." The kid wandered back to the counter.

Linda grabbed her basket from the tray and watched the kid move. "Is he stoned?"

Precocious gave her a look. "Where is your head? He's *always* stoned."

"It's that painting on the easel. It's not done."

"It looks done."

Linda shook her head. "Self portraits are never done."

Tyler perked up a little at that. "Self portrait? I have a weakness for self portraits."

Linda gave him a look that radiated vaguely pissed. "You've never tried to do one of yourself, have you?"

"You know those little stick figures kids always draw when they're little?"

Linda shrugged. "Sure."

"Mine were always wavy." Tyler bit into his burger and had to act fast to keep condiments from leaking down his chin. He held up a finger to ask for a moment and struggled to swallow the mouthful he had. "I have-" he paused to take a drink of soda and clear a piece of bacon from his throat, "no artistic ability to speak of. While I recognize it as hard work, I can't actually *do* it."

"Well, at least you recognize it." Linda bit into her own burger, but was a bit more adept at keeping it all in her mouth. "Some people think I can just throw colors on a canvas and call it art."

Precocious was eating her burger with a knife and fork, knowing from earlier attempts that she didn’t have the coordination to actually eat a double-decker slathered with extras like other people could. "It's really your own fault for painting abstracts. If you painted like a regular person, people would think it takes effort."

Tyler waited for Linda to get offended, but realized, just as Linda gave him a small smile, that this conversation was an old joke between she and Precocious. "You only paint abstracts?"

"It's how I made my first ten cents. It seemed like a good idea to go with the trend." Linda gave Tyler a once-over that made his skin prickle. "And what do you do?"

Tyler caught a slice of tomato between his fingers just before it slid out of the back of his burger. "Well, I started 'Ransack' with Zachary when we were both young and stupid enough to not be afraid of banks or loan payments. We ran it together until I met my ex, and then I ran off to San Francisco to be with her while he ran the company. I joined up with a textile company in San Francisco, and I became obscenely rich from the combination of my huge paycheck from them and the stock from 'Ransack'. I moved back a week ago, and I plan to be unemployed and live off my ill-gotten riches for as long as possible."

"And how long with that be?"

"I could do it for the rest of my life." Tyler wiped ketchup from his chin. "And still have enough money to start and operate a small liberal arts college for a few years."

"Would you care to make a donation to the 'get Precocious's ass out of student loan debt' fund?"

"Is it tax deductible?"

Precocious shook her head and gave Tyler a severely disappointed face. "No, but it's still a fund worth looking into."

Tyler chuckled. "I'll talk to my accountant."

They finished their burgers with comfortable, pointless conversation, and Tyler and Precocious both watched as Linda sketched an elaborate landscape with three moons and a row of crooked houses. When Tyler got up to leave, he was startled by the quick kiss on the cheek that Precocious gave him. “Um…” He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the kiss. “Thanks for the burger.”

“You’re welcome.” If Precocious thought that he was acting out of sorts, she didn’t say anything. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Tyler couldn’t recall any conversations about Thursday coming up during the meal.

“You have lunch with Zachary.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Tyler nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll see you Thursday.” He turned his head to smile at Linda, who was still drawing on the table. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” She gave him a quick, distracted smile and a small wave.

When Tyler turned back towards Precocious, he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. “I…” He trailed off and briefly considered making the whole thing as professional as possible. “Thanks, again. I really appreciate it.”

“It was fun.” Precocious rocked back on her heels and smiled at him. “Be careful driving home. I know a couple of first timers who come in here for a burger and leave feeling sick.”

“I’ll be okay, but thanks for the warning.” Tyler stepped around Precocious with a smile and walked out of the restaurant to his car. His heart was pumping hard in his chest, and he realized as he got into the car and glanced in the rearview that he had a grin on his face that could only be described as ‘goofy’. ~Where the hell did that come from? Good God, man, it’s been so long since a woman’s been nice to you that someone buying you a burger makes you grin like an idiot? Get a grip.~ With a shake of his head at his own reactions, Tyler started the car and drove off.

*

Linda kept an eye on the newer model black car as it pulled out of the parking lot and worked its way into traffic. When it was out of sight, she turned to Precocious with a smirk. “You didn’t buy me my first burger when I came here.”

“You’re not as good-looking as he is.” Precocious pushed her hair off her forehead. “You also didn’t just move back to town.”

“Ah, so you only show that kind of hospitality when it’s a good looking man who may be a little lonely.”

“Don’t say it so it sounds so dirty.”

Linda grinned. “I use the tone that seems appropriate.” She shook her head at Precocious. “You really have the most disgustingly preppy taste in men.”

“I do *not*!”

“You do so.” Linda grinned at the indignant squeaking noises Precocious was making. “Have you ever even *looked* at a guy who doesn’t wear a T-shirt under his V-neck sweater?”

“Eric!”

Linda waved the name off. “Eric was an experiment in how completely you could try and ruin your own reputation as a prep whore. He doesn’t count.”

“A ‘prep whore’?” Precocious was silent for a few seconds. “Nice phrase. Can I steal it?”

“Go right ahead.” Linda finished a sketch of a kitten with huge, anime-like eyes and pocketed her pen. “You ready to go?”

“Sure.” Precocious stood up and let Linda lead the way to the door. “Am I really a prep whore?”

“Yes, but it’s kind of cute.” Linda unlocked the driver’s side door and pushed the button to unlock Precocious’s door. “Although, this one is older than you usually go.”

“I’m not “going” anywhere. I bought the guy a burger because I think the only friend he has right now is Zachary. He’s a nice guy.”

“And he’s attractive.”

“I’m not saying that it hurts that he’s nice to look at, but it’s not the reason I talked to him tonight.”

Linda grinned. “You mean it’s not the *only* reason.”

Precocious shook her head and watched the streetlights as they drove under them. “You know, I think I like you better when you’re moody from painting.”

*

Tyler let himself into his house and paused for a moment to listen to the sounds of the old boards settling on the foundation. He closed the front door and eyed the room, wondering if unpacking a few boxes would be a good idea. The room looked like the back end of a warehouse, and he finally sighed in defeat before prying open a box labeled as ‘Random Stuff’. He cursed at the sight of his wedding album staring him in the face. He didn’t even remember packing it and immediately placed the blame on his mother. She was still determined to believe that his marriage could be fixed if he and Julia just talked. Tyler had tried to explain the concept of a divorce being final, but she hadn’t listened. She never listened.

Against his better judgment, Tyler picked up the wedding album and flipped it open. He was surprised when the anger and he was expecting didn’t hit as he looked at the pictures of he and Julia standing before the altar. He was also surprised to notice how happy she looked in the picture. He wondered when it had gotten so bad that she would only talk to him through her attorney. The phone rang before he could wallow any further, and Tyler reached for the cordless on the piano. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Zachary sounded mildly worried.

“Are you okay?” Tyler dropped the wedding album back into the box and walked over to sit on the couch.

“I’ve been trying to call you for the last three hours. I had dinner plans, but I got stood up, so I was going to see if you wanted to grab a movie and get a pizza or something.”

Tyler looked at his watch when Zachary gave his time frame. “Three hours? I wasn’t out that long.” His watch said nine thirty-seven. He’d gone into the burger joint at a little before six. “Or maybe I was.”

“Trust me, you were. Also, you need to get an answering machine.”

“It’s here somewhere.”

Zachary chuckled on the other end of the line. “You haven’t finished unpacking, have you?”

“I hate unpacking.” Tyler gave the closed box nearest him a dirty look. “And I found my wedding album.”

“Why in the name of fuck do you have your wedding album?”

“Because my mother doesn’t get the concept of divorce.”

“Please tell me you haven’t answered your phone in the last three hours because you’ve been gazing at your wedding photos wondering what went wrong.” Zachary sounded genuinely worried that it might have happened.

There was no way Tyler was going to admit how close to the truth Zachary was. “Actually, I stopped at a burger place in town and got talked into a burger the size of my head by your assistant.”

“You ran into Precocious?”

“Yes.”

“Must have been the Heart Attack place she and Linda are always going on about.”

“Linda has purple hair.”

“I’ve noticed, trust me.” Zachary laughed. “You got talked into a burger, huh?”

Tyler looked down at his stomach, which he would swear was distended beyond hope from his dinner. “I think the thing from ‘Alien’ is going to pop out of my stomach and do a dance along the counter top.”

“That was the thing from ‘Spaceballs’.”

“I don’t care, the picture stands.” Tyler laughed with Zachary. “I’m not up for pizza, but if you want to grab some beer and a movie, I’d take the company.”

“Give me forty minutes.”

“See you.” Tyler clicked off the phone and placed it beside him on the couch. He looked at the mess of boxes and crumpled newspapers that was his living room, and hefted himself off the couch to start clearing a little space for he and Zachary to sit down and watch a movie. He’d just finished stacking a few boxes against the wall when the doorbell rang. He grinned at Zachary when he opened the door and relieved him of the six pack he was holding onto by the barest bit of luck. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Zachary maneuvered inside with the pizza box and set it on the coffee table. He held up the DVD that had been balanced on the box. “I grabbed a classic.”

“Can ‘Office Space’ be considered a classic, yet?” Tyler took the DVD from Zachary and opened the case. He walked over to the television and hit the ‘eject’ button for the DVD player. “It only came out a few years ago, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it doesn’t make it any less of a classic if you’ve lived it. Remember that claustrophobic hell hole we called our first job?”

“I don’t think ‘claustrophobic’ quite covers the description of that place. ‘Run-down rat palace on the edge of existence’ is a little more accurate.”

Zachary grinned and opened a beer. “You had that cubicle wall that was warped to shit, and you kept pissing off the managers because you had to prop it up with cinderblocks.”

Tyler laughed as he sat down the couch from Zachary and grabbed a slice of pizza. “He kept yelling at me to take the damned blocks away, and I did-“

“And then your whole cubicle collapsed.” Zachary laughed with Tyler as the movie started. “Am I a sick bastard if I miss that place?”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

*

Thursday afternoon, at a quarter to one, Tyler stepped into the front office of ‘Ransack’ and was stopped cold at the sight of Precocious hanging from a rafter by her fingertips. There was a chair turned on its side below her, and she looked rather pissed.

“Salvation, finally. Get me down, will you?” She saw Tyler hesitate and gave him a wry smile. “I’m not going to start screaming about sexual harassment.”

“It’s always good to hesitate.” Tyler walked over to her and placed his hands on her hips. She dropped her hands from the rafters to his shoulders and let herself be lowered to the ground.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Why didn’t you just jump down?”

“Bad ankles.” Precocious righted the chair that was on the floor and pushed it against the wall. “Something would have snapped if I’d jumped.”

Tyler watched her walk to her desk and changed his line of sight to the rafters when she turned around and looked at him. “What were you doing up there?”

“Lucy got out of her cage.” Precocious pointed to a cage that was much to long and thin to belong to any cat or dog.

Tyler had a sudden image of a very large spider or a very large rat skittering around by his feet. He looked around the office warily. “Lucy?”

“She’s a ferret.” Precocious looked up at the rafters. “She loves the rafters in this place. I had to take her to the vet because she fell *off* the rafters and started limping. They had her under observation for the last few days, and I just picked her up this morning.”

“Could she be in Zachary’s office?”

“He’s out right now. The door’s been closed for hours.” Precocious walked around her desk and peeked behind a large, wide-leafed plant in the corner. “He should be back any minute. He doesn’t like to be late for appointments.”

“I remember.” Tyler carefully stepped over to a plant on the other side of the office and looked between the leaves. Down on the floor, snuggled securely against the plant, was a long, brown creature with glassy-looking eyes and two white triangles above its eyes. “Found her.” He leaned over to pick up the ferret, but paused. “Does she bite?”

“No.”

Tyler finished reaching down and picked up the ferret. It wiggled in his arms momentarily before settling in a compact ball against his chest. “Hi, Lucy.” He watched the ferret look up at him for a moment before deciding he wasn’t going to make a great conversationalist and returning to her ball form. “She’s not impressed.”

Precocious smiled and reached out for her pet. “She never is.” She scratched the top of Lucy’s head and walked her back over to her cage. “You’re a bad ferret, Lucifer. You know better than to run off.”

“Lucifer?” Tyler was sure he had heard wrong.

“The markings above her eyes look like little horns.” Precocious secured Lucy’s cage and set a few books on it for good measure. “Plus, I suspect that she’s evil.”

“Oh?”

“She scratches when she’s nervous. She also eats holes in my socks.” Precocious sat behind her desk and glanced at the clock on her computer. It was 12:58. “Zachary should be walking in any second.”

“Do I get to tell him I found you swinging from the rafters?” Tyler couldn’t quite figure out why he felt so pleased when Precocious beamed at him.

“He’s had to rescue me before. I can never keep that damned chair upright.”

Tyler laughed and turned as the electronic bell on the door went off. He nodded at Zachary and checked his watch. 1:00. “Right on time.”

“I’ll be another couple of minutes.” Zachary clapped Tyler on the shoulder and moved around him to Precocious’s desk. “Messages?”

She immediately pulled a small stack of pink message notes from the depths of her rather cluttered desk. “You have a physical tomorrow at six, a reminder from your business accountant that you need to review the books for the quarterly review, two calls from our supplier in Ottawa, and a call from Clara.”

Tyler noticed that Precocious didn’t even have to look at the notes to remember the messages. “Clara?” He found great amusement in watching the back of Zachary’s neck turn pink. “Who’s Clara, man?”

“Someone I just started seeing.”

“Awww.”

Zachary rolled his eyes, still not looking at Tyler. “Throw something at him.”

Precocious nodded seriously. “I’ll get right on that.” She hid a giggle as he walked into his office and closed the door. “Thank you for that cheap amusement.”

“You’re welcome.” Tyler sat in the chair that was in front of Precocious’s desk and put his left ankle on his right knee. “Who is Clara?”

“I don’t know. From what I’ve gleaned from taking his messages, he met her at a conference, and it’s long distance.” Precocious smiled a little. “He sent her flowers.”

“Zachary sent someone *flowers*?”

“Yeah.”

“He *hates* flowers.”

Before Precocious could respond, the phone rang. “Ransack Textiles, Ms. Grant speaking.”

“Hey, Pre.”

“I’m working.” Precocious dropped the phone back into the cradle hard.

Tyler raised his eyebrows as he watched Precocious’s face darken. He wasn’t sure if he should ask about the phone call. Before he could decide, Zachary’s office door opened and distracted him.

“Let’s go to lunch.” Zachary closed his office door and locked it. He turned around and saw the look on Precocious’s face. “Did he just call again?”

Precocious shoved her hair off her face and stood up, grabbing a stack of files. “Yes, and no, I’m not going to let you sit him down for a talk. It won’t do any good.”

“It’s harassment.”

“I’m fully aware of what it is, Zachary.” Precocious glanced at the men over her shoulder. “The problem is, our version of harassment versus the police version of harassment is two different things. He’s not threatening me, and he’s not calling me enough to actually qualify as anything more than a jackass.”

“Write down that he called.” Zachary ignored the exasperated look Precocious gave him. “I know you will, but I’m going to remind you anyway.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Precocious checked her watch. “You’ve got an hour and fifty-five minutes before your conference call. If you want to actually relax at lunch, you need to go now.”

“We’re going, we’re going.” Zachary waved an arm at the door and let Tyler lead the way out. He waited until they were in his car before speaking again. “Did she say anything suspicious?”

“Like what?” Tyler kept his voice even, trying not to show how much he wanted to know what was going on.

“Did it sound like he threatened her?”

“What’s going on?” Zachary paid more attention to the stop light at the end of the street than was absolutely necessary, and Tyler’s interest in the whole matter ratcheted up further. “All she said was ‘I’m working’, and then she hung up the phone.” He watched Zachary’s shoulders drop in relief and pushed for information. “Who’s the guy?”

“Her ex.” Zachary shook his head. “His name’s Chad. She dumped him a couple of months ago for reasons she hasn’t told me, but he hasn’t left her alone. He calls her every couple of days, and it puts her into a mood I can’t even begin to explain.”

“Why isn’t it harassment? She obviously doesn’t want to talk to the guy, and he keeps getting into contact with her.”

“It’s a loophole in the harassment laws. While he’s calling and talking to her, he’s not an asshole about it. He’s not threatening her. He’s not camping outside her apartment. He’s just calling every couple of days, and if she doesn’t want to talk, he hangs up the phone.” Zachary made a disgusted sound in his throat. “He gets off on head games. It’s why she broke up with him.”

Tyler squinted against the sunlight coming in the windshield as he considered everything he’d just been told. “How do you know all of this? This isn’t information you should have as her employer.”

“She’s a good-“ Zachary cut himself off. “I want to say ‘kid’, but she’s not.”

“Having fatherly inclinations?”

“More like big brother protectiveness, I guess.” Zachary pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant and shut off the car. “She can handle herself, and I know that, but I feel like I have to remind her to do it sometimes. Especially where he’s concerned.”

Tyler stepped out of the car as Zachary did. “How long was she with him?”

“Ten months, but the head games only started a few months before it was over. Precocious wasn’t even sure it was happening at first. He came into the office one day to see her, and she walked into my office with the pretense of handing over some files and asked me to eavesdrop.” Zachary’s mouth flattened to an almost-invisible line, and his eyes got hard. “He was smooth, but I heard what he wasn’t saying.”

“And she dumped him?” Tyler opened the door to the restaurant and held up two fingers to the waitress. “Non-smoking, please.”

“She did, but he hasn’t quite gone away. He’s like a cockroach. When they’re coming out of the walls, you’re in deeper shit than you think.” Zachary saw the waitress wince a little as they sat down. “Pardon my metaphor.”

“I’ll be right back with some water.” The waitress hurried for the kitchen.

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh at her departure. “Maybe you shouldn’t make cockroach analogies as you walk into a restaurant.”

Zachary opened his menu. “I wasn’t even thinking about it. The kid’s an ass. I know it. Precocious knows it. I know Linda knows it, too.”

“How do you know she knows it?”

“She threw him out of the office once. Bodily threw him out.”

“How big is this guy?” Tyler was picturing some sort of variation on a munchkin if Linda could throw him around.”

“He’s a good-sized guy. Five ten, maybe. I’d say one hundred seventy pounds, if I had to guess.” Zachary saw the disbelief on Tyler’s face. “Linda’s taken Judo.”

“Ah.” Tyler looked up as the waitress walked over with their water. “And you couldn’t have mentioned that *before* you told me she threw the guy?”

“I wasn’t thinking of it like that.” Zachary gave the waitress a smile. “Could I get a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” She scribbled it onto her order pad and looked at Tyler. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine, thank you.”

“Are you ready to order, or would you like a few minutes to look over the menu?”

“We’d like to look, thank you.” Zachary tried another smile and wasn’t surprised when it was shot down. “Maybe you’re right on the cockroach thing.” He waited for Tyler to say something, and looked up from his menu when he got no response. Tyler was looking at the menu, but he wasn’t really seeing it. “Tyler, you okay?”

“Hmmm?” Tyler looked up from his menu. “Fine. Fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Tyler put the menu on the table and rubbed a hand over his face. “Just thinking over what you said about this Chad guy.” He shook his head like he was getting water out of his hair. “Precocious doesn’t seem the type to fall for that.”

Zachary’s eyebrows met over his nose as he watched Tyler think. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you just insinuate that you’re thinking about the type of person my assistant is?” Tyler suddenly got very interested in his menu again. Zachary’s eyebrows split up and went straight up his forehead. “Why, exactly, are you thinking about the type of person Precocious is?”

“She’s an interesting person.” Tyler tried to sound blasé, but he didn’t quite pull it off. “I’m just trying to figure out how someone who seems to have it all together ends up in a relationship that ends so badly.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing about you, you know.”

Tyler shrugged. “So have I.”

“So, are you wondering to find an answer about her or about you?”

“About me. Why would I want to know an answer for her?”

Zachary put his menu down and pointed a finger at Tyler. “We’ve known each other since the beginning of time. I can tell when you have a thing for someone, and I think you have a thing for my assistant.”

Tyler laughed. “You are out of your mind.”

“Really?”

“She’s half my age.”

“She’s twenty-four.”

“I’m forty-three; it’s close enough.”

“So, you won’t date her because she’s younger than you?”

Tyler shook his head. “I never said I’d date her.”

“I think you want to.” Zachary flagged down the waitress. “I’ll have the ten ounce sirloin with shrimp, a chef’s salad, and French dressing. I’d like my steak medium rare and no tomatoes on my salad.” He looked over at Tyler, who looked ready to continue the argument they had been having. “What are you having?”

“Same, but I’d like my steak rare and extra tomatoes on my salad.” Tyler handed his menu over to the waitress and waited for her to leave. “What makes you think I’d want to date your assistant?”

“Why not? She’s interesting. She’s smart. You seem to like her well enough.”

“She bought me a burger. I like anyone who purchases food on my behalf.”

“I’ll make a donation to the local soup kitchen for your birthday.” Zachary held up a hand to forestall Tyler’s next argument. “All I’m saying is that you seem to like her. Now, I can see how it could just be friendly, but you’ve got that look in your eyes like you want to send her flowers or candy. Word to the wise, she prefers plants and Nerds.”

Tyler tried very hard to come up with a reasonable excuse not to have the conversation end with Zachary basically giving him tips to date a woman half his age. “She has a *ferret*.”

“So? Lucy doesn’t bite.”
“She scratches.”

“But she doesn’t bite.” Zachary grinned and watched Tyler pay a little too much attention to his drink. “You like her.”

“She’s twenty-four.”

“So?”

“I also just got finished with a divorce.”

Zachary nodded. “While that is a solid argument, let me counter with, how long have you actually been done with the marriage?”

Tyler’s water really was fascinating. “I don’t like to think about that.”

“We’ll file it under ‘a long damn time’, then.” Zachary gave Tyler an exasperated look. “She was a horrible woman from the start.”

Tyler’s head snapped up. “She was *not*.”

“She’s a materialistic, money-grubbing, pain in the ass.” Zachary didn’t bother to look falsely apologetic. “She always has been.” He shrugged and sipped his water. “I don’t know what you saw in her.”

“She was kind when I met her.”

“Tyler, man, she was scraping a puppy off the sidewalk because she’d just *hit* it. She was drunk when you met her.”

“Maybe I should have kept her that way.”

Zachary leaned across the table so that only Tyler could hear him. “Look, if you want to ask my assistant out to dinner, go right ahead. I’m not going to sit here and damn you to hell for ‘corrupting’ her or some other bullshit. She’s a grown woman, she can make her own decisions.”

“I don’t want to date her!” Tyler realized, from the surprised look that the waitress gave him, that he may have said that a little too loudly.

The waitress held up the water pitcher. “More water?” She sounded neutral, but she was obviously uncomfortable.

Tyler didn’t look at her when he handed her his glass. “Thank you.”

*

When Precocious got home that night, she found a note from Linda saying she had run to the art supply store and that her mother had called. Precocious kicked off her shoes and grabbed the phone off the counter. She pulled away quickly when she got paint on her hand. “Thanks, Linda.” She smiled to herself and wiped the paint off her hand, then wiped down the phone. The last known number for her mother was still in the speed dial, and she pressed the memory button to dial it.

“Warm and Comfy Commune.”

Precocious rolled her eyes at the title of the place but made her voice honestly pleasant. “This is Precocious Grant, is my mother around?”

“You’re Sally’s daughter, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

There was a chuckle. “Oh, don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I’m Timber.”

~Of course you are, you hippie.~ “All right, Timber.”

“Let me find your mother.”

Precocious almost laughed when the hold music was a medley from ‘Hair’. She hummed along with a few bars while she grabbed a sponge and wiped paint off the counters. She wondered idly what Linda had been doing that had resulted in her more or less smearing paint all over the kitchen.

“Precocious?”

“Hi, Mom.” Precocious dropped the sponge in the sink and got right to the point. “Chad’s still calling.”

“Have you blown a whistle into the phone?”

“It didn’t work.” Precocious could see her mother in her mind’s eye and could picture her in an open room with lots of natural light and her long gray hair up in a wispy ponytail. She was probably wearing a long, neutral colored dress and sandals. “He’s not calling back when I hang up on him, but he won’t stop calling.”

“Have you changed your phone number, yet?”

“I changed it two weeks ago, and it’s unlisted.” Precocious listened to her mother sigh. “And it’s not considered stalking because he’s staying away. And it’s not harassment because he hangs up and doesn’t call me back.”

“Have you talked to the police again?”

“No. I talked to them three days ago. They say I still don’t have enough.”

“Have you kicked him in the shins?”

Precocious laughed, but it was humorless. “Knowing the luck I’m running, I’d get arrested for assault.” She paced the kitchen and tried a deep breath to clear her head. “Linda left a note that said you called. Everything okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Sweetie. I got a call from your father yesterday, and he was looking for your new phone number since your old one isn’t in service anymore. I was just going to let you know that he’s trying to say hello.”

“How is he?” Precocious tried to think back to the last time she had spoken to her father. It had been, at her best guess, almost four months. “Did he ever get that promotion?”

“I have no idea. I forgot to ask.”

Precocious could practically see the somewhat flighty hand-shaking that she knew her mother did when she realized she had forgotten to ask after something. “I’ll find out for you. I’m sure he’ll be around in the next few days.”

“You do that.” Sally’s voice suddenly changed from motherly-sweet to a little conniving. “And who is this Tyler that Linda mentioned to me?”

“No one.” Precocious walked from the kitchen to the living room and sat on the couch. “He’s an old friend of Zachary’s, and we ran into him at Heart Attack the other night. I bought him a burger.”

“And?”

“And nothing, Mom. He just came back into town after a divorce, and we ran into each other at the same place by chance. I bought him a burger.” Precocious sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes. “And before you start going on about how nothing happens by chance, remember that I don’t believe in that particular cracked theory.”

“It is not a cracked theory.” Sally’s tone was one of patient annoyance. “I wasn’t even going to argue the ‘nothing by chance’ card, although, you should wonder why you brought it up in the first place.”

“Because my mother is a crazed hippie who believes in Tarot and new age stuff.”

“Hey, now, you can read Tarot.”

Precocious couldn’t disagree. “I was never any *good* at it.”

“You read it to the cats. Cats don’t listen to anyone or anything. Not even the power in the cards.”

“How can you deliver a sentence like that and not doubt your own sanity?” Precocious could practically see her mother shrug.

“I don’t know, honey, but I can.” There was a sudden scuffling noise on the other end of the line. “Precocious, I have to go. It looks like the baby chicks got out of their box. Give my love to Lucy.”

“I will. Bye, Mom.” Precocious walked back to the kitchen to hang up the phone and paused at the kitchen table to let Lucy out of her cage. “Mom says hi.” Lucy skittered away from Precocious and headed straight for her food bowl. “I’ll tell her you returned the greetings.” Precocious heard the front door open and walked to the foyer. Linda stood in the doorway trying to manhandle a half-dozen bags into the living room. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Linda gave a solid yank and the bags tumbled through the door. “Are you home early?”

“You’re running late.” Precocious grabbed a couple of the bags from Linda and followed her to the studio. “How’d you get paint all over the kitchen?”

“I have no idea.” Linda set the bags down and started rummaging through them. “Did you call your mom?”

“Yeah. Dad’s trying to track me down. She said you mentioned Tyler to her.”

“Did I? I don’t remember doing that.” Linda pulled a six-pack of silver spray paint from the bag and set it aside.

“You have to come out of her fume-induced haze when the phone rings. You say things you shouldn’t say.”

“Don’t I know it.” Linda looked up from the bags. “I don’t think I told her anything about Tyler other than you thought he was attractive.”

Precocious shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. For a woman who’s all about empowerment, she’s certainly interested in the idea of my settling down as quickly as possible.”

“I think all mom’s are like that. My mother is still fully convinced that I’m going to get my act together and find a ‘real’ job.” Linda rolled her eyes. “I can’t get her to understand that I’m making more per painting than I am at any ‘real’ job I could find.”

“Have you shown her the receipts?”

“She doesn’t believe them.”

Precocious shook her head and backed out of the studio. “Well, just remind her that my forgery attempts have always been bad, and that you can’t forge anything because nothing is abstract enough.”

“Oh, ha.” Linda followed Precocious out of the studio and into the kitchen. She hopped up on the counter and watched Precocious start throwing things together for dinner. “So, are you going to ask him out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Chad is still calling me. He called me at work today. I’m not going to ask a guy out when I know Chad is still trying to push my buttons.” Precocious filled a pot with water and put it on the stove to heat. “And before you say anything, I’m well aware that not dating because Chad is trying to keep tabs on me is just the kind of thing he’s hoping I’ll do. I’m working on it.”

“You need to work on it by asking someone out.” Linda shifted on the counter so that Precocious could get into the cupboard behind her. “And you need to do it soon. If you hold off much longer you’re going to start believing the line you just fed me, and then you really *won’t* ask anyone out.”

“I know.” Precocious made a disgusted face and dug into the fridge for vegetables. “I can’t believe I’m letting him play me like this. It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Linda shrugged. “So why not ask Tyler out? He’s good-looking. He seems nice enough, and considering he just got his ass dropped by his wife, you’re pretty much assured that it won’t go anywhere.”

“Valid arguments, but they’re the wrong ones. I just spent months with a guy when I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. I’m tired of it. I’d like to have a relationship that has a chance to grow past sex and weirdness.”

Linda made a cooing noise like she was looking at a particularly cute baby or puppy. “Looking for a white picket fence and two point five dogs?”

“You’ve met my mother, right?”

“Okay, fine, a neon orange picket fence, four dogs, a cow, and Lucy.”

Precocious shook her head and cut up potatoes into the pot on the stove. “I really don’t know what I want. I just know that it’s not a pointless relationship that ends when the sex gets bad.” She paused in slicing up the potato and considered her last sentence. “Actually, I’d like a relationship where the sex *didn’t* go bad. I don’t think I’ve had one.”

“I don’t think I have, either.” Linda looked up at the small cabinets above the sink as she considered her past relationships. “Well, it never went bad with Michael. Of course, he beat the shit out of me for not doing the dishes after our first romantic dinner, so I don’t think that counts.”

“One does cancel out the other.” Precocious sliced the last of the potatoes and dropped the knife into the sink. “I’ve never gotten the hell beaten out of me, but I think Chad was on the way.”

“Trust me, he was.” Linda’s face hardened as she remembered. “He would have been a slow burn kind of guy, though. Michael just kind of *snapped* one night. Chad probably would have started with a friendly shove or something before gearing up to really let you have it.”

Precocious wanted very badly to change the topic of conversation. She remembered what Linda had looked like when she’d found her at the hospital. She remembered what Linda had sounded like, voice raw from screaming, when she’d talked. She did not like to remember that neither of them had ever had particularly good taste in men. “What’d you paint today?”

If Linda caught the very obvious change in subject, she didn’t say anything. “I think it’s a representation of my female ways.”

“Lots of red?”

“Two tubes of it. It looks vaguely like a vulva.”

“Care