Jaye slammed the day-planner shut. She looked around and screamed, "That's not funny. You can't hijack my family like that. It's not fair."
Muffled shouting came from the leather planner that she tightly held shut. The urge to throw the thing and run derailed her panic, giving her a fevered glimpse of a way out. As she lifted her arm, the voice inside became clearer.
"Don't even think about it. Put me down and listen." Jaye paused, chewing her lower lip as she considered her options.
"Now," screamed Sharon's voice, and Jaye dropped the organizer onto the bench. She sighed and buried her face in her hands.
"I know, I know. 'Get rid of the bitch.' I know, alright. I've heard it all night. Jeez, just shut up."
Sharon's voice mocked her. "'I know, I know.' If you know, then why are you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?"
Jaye glared at the organizer, then flipped it open to the drawing. "If you and your other little buddies would be just a tad more specific, I wouldn't spend all my time running around in a state of confusion, which happens to make me very tired. You know, other people my age have very meaningful social interactions with conversations about reality television, their blogs and other crap. I spend my time being bossed around by…by…things like you."
"Oh, waaaaaaa. Baby doesn't get to spend her life hiding in her trailer. Try being sandwiched between a dry cleaning receipt and the phone number of some woman who has faded from memory."
"Fine. Let's trade. You can risk your neck. That is, if you have one."
Cat Sharon rolled her eyes. "Do you ever listen to yourself? Not everything is about you. Get a life."
"Give mine back then." Jaye made a sour face. "God, you even bitch like Sharon. This is too creepy."
"Well, that's what you get for stealing."
"I 'borrowed' her planner, thank you."
A smug look of superior satisfaction came to the drawing's face. "In either case, you brought this on yourself, so accept the consequences and get over it. Get rid of the bitch."
The drawing froze.
With a frustrated growl, Jaye flipped the pages until she found Linny's name and address, and then wrote it on her palm. "You want me to get rid of the bitch? Let's just do that, shall we?"
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Sharon spritzed perfume into the wastebasket next to her desk. Damn stomach again, she thought as a voice rambled in her ear. The combined odors from the basket make her nose wrinkle and her eyes water.
"Mr. Delemond, I'm sure your client is a very honest person, but crossing the border to merchandise possibly pirated video material does not qualify him for a work visa in the U.S."
Renewed jabbering for the other end of the line received an eye roll. She felt weary, and the day hadn't even started. The only upside was the cancellation of her early meeting, though the client threatened to reschedule. Sharon allowed herself to spend a ridiculous amount of time, by her standards, crouching in the ladies room stall as she prayed for the nausea to fade, and that no one would hear if it didn't.
"Okay, okay, Mr. Delemond, I don't do consultation over the phone, so why don't we just schedule a meeting? Okay?" She reached for her briefcase and popped the latches. "I do have to be honest and tell you that I think you and your client are wasting your time and money." She opened the case. "Yes, I am going to charge you, sir. This isn't a pro bono organization."
As she stared into her briefcase more intently, Mr. Delemond's voice faded. What the hell happened to her planner? Even the nausea vanished as cold panic started tingling along her nerves. Mentally, she retraced her steps from sealing the day-planner inside the case right up to the current phone call, which was proceeding without her input or attention. At no point had she even opened her briefcase, so when would she….
"That bitch," she screamed. A harsh retort came from the phone. "No, not you, Mr. Delemond. Call back, if I'm not in jail by then." She slammed the phone down, grabbed her purse and snapped to her feet.
"Oh god," she muttered as her vision fogged and her stomach tried to turn inside out – again.
