Part II
(Montreal, still three weeks later)
Janette DuCharme stood puzzling at the sight before her. Natalie Lambert, or a very good likeness, was applying for the waitress position Janette needed filled. Only... she wasn't dressed like Dr. Lambert or *acting* like her, for that matter. This Natalie had pulled her reddish mane up in a pony tail that sat precariously high on her head. It was tied with a lacy black scrunchy that matched her black and white lace outfit-- an outfit that was much more provocative than anything Janette had ever imagined Natalie would wear. And if all this weren't enough, the woman before didn't seem to recognize Janette at all.
"What did you say your name was again?" Janette asked the un-Natalie.
"Natasha... but I prefer to be called Tasha, if that's all right with you," answered the woman. She blew a bubble with the bubblegum she'd been snapping and popped it loudly. Janette stifled a wince.
"Your *last* name," she emphasized.
"Oh, that! I don't have one."
"You don't have one?" Janette echoed.
Natasha shook her head. "Three weeks again I was found wandering the streets by a policeman. He took me to a homeless shelter. I don't remember much before that."
"And they gave you a name at the shelter?" Janette asked. She was beginning to understand.
Natasha shook her head again. "No... *that* was the only thing I *do* remember. Being called 'Nat.' At the shelter, they flung some names at me that began with 'Nat' and 'Natasha' sounded right somehow."
"And you don't want to find out who you really are?" Janette asked.
Natasha once again shook her head. "Naw! I'm having
too much fun as me!"
Janette realized that it would be inviting trouble to let "Natasha" walk out of there, so she hired her on the spot. Then she gave Natasha an apartment above the club.
"You start tomorrow," Janette told Natasha before showing
her the apartment...