Page 97 of Stroked Long
Sitting cross-legged on my couch, I continue to knit a scarf while listening to Ruth B on Spotify. My mind refuses to quit conjuring up all the worst-case scenarios, driving me to the brink of lunacy.
My internal thoughts are interrupted by my ringing phone. Stumbling to answer it, I quickly press the green button and answer.
Please let it be Bodi.
“Hello?”
“Is this rhubarb?” a snarky female voice asks.
“Excuse me?
“Rhubarb, the seamstress.” The annoyed tone in her voice puts me on the defense right away.
“Um, it’s Ruby.”
“That has no relevance to me. This is Bellini Chambers, and you applied for my seamstress job.”
Oh shit. I sit up and put on my professional voice. I should have known it was Bellini. I recognize the venom in her voice. I’m not going to lie, I’ve watched a few shows ofRollin’ in the Bacon,and I have to admit, I see why America can’t look away. She’s the bitch everyone loves to hate. And even though she seems like a horrible human on television, she’s rich as hell, and if I can cash in on some of those riches, I will be a happy camper.
“Yes, hello, Miss Chambers. I’m so glad you called.”
“Enough with the chit-chat. I don’t have time for it and honestly I don’t care to hear it. Reese, my boyfriend, told me I should give you this job.”
Well, she gets straight to the point.
“That was very kind of him. I promise I can do a great job—”
“Blah, blah, blah. I don’t care about that. I want to know why my boyfriend is vouching for you. Are you one of those harlots throwing your uneven nipples at him?”
“What?” I ask, thrown off from her assumption. “No. I . . . I asked my friend Bodi Banks to put in a good word for me. I don’t know Reese personally.” I don’t mention how I shot a liter of soda at him at the grocery store.
“Are you lying to me? Lying is one of the Ten Commandments. I won’t put up with liars.”
“I’m not lying, Miss Chambers. I promise. I was hoping to just make a personal connection. I could really use the job and I think with my skill set, you would be really impressed with what I’m able to produce.”
There is silence on the other end of the phone. I’m about to ask her if she’s still there when she says, “Okay, Rhubarb. I will give you a chance but don’t let me down. Be here at my place nine in the morning sharp.”
“But I have a class to run at the Boys’ and Girls’ Club.”
“Then I suggest you find someone to fill it if you want this job. My assistant will text directions to my house.”
Then the line goes dead.
Glancing down at the phone in my hand, I’m in shock. That was the weirdest phone interview I’ve ever had. Would one consider that an interview? She didn’t actually ask me any questions besides if I was a harlot. Does that count?
In disbelief, I pack away my knitting and gather my sewing machine and supplies next to the door for tomorrow. Next, I text my boss over at the club and ask for a day off, which she gratefully gives me, and then pick out my outfit for tomorrow. I choose a yellow dress, blue cardigan, and red Keds.
I want to call Bodi and tell him about the job. I want to call Bodi and talk about his day.I just want to hear his voice.I wish I knew what was happening right now.I just ask that you take a second to breathe before you leave me.Oh, my beautiful man, I couldn’t leave you if I tried.
Glancing at the clock, it’s past nine, and I decide to get ready for bed. I assumed Bodi and I would hang out tonight but it seems plans have changed. Remembering what he told me, I exercise patience while I brush my teeth, pee, and wash my face.
Once tucked into bed, I turn to my nightstand where my phone is plugged in. Taking a deep breath, I send Bodi a text message.
Ruby: I’m off to bed. Got that seamstress job so I figured I would get a good night’s rest. Hope you had a nice day. Talk to you tomorrow?
I set my phone back on the nightstand and stare at it, watching it go dark after a minute, willing Bodi to text me back.
But he doesn’t.
