Chapter 2: A Night in for Scarlett
Scarlett lay on her bed, kicking her feet in the air, painting her nails, and talking on the walkie-talkie. "Oh, I couldn't agree more. That sounds like an excellent plan, sir," she said, while kicking her teddy bear into the air to show her true feelings.
"10-4, Duke. Be right on it." She signed off and threw the walkie-talkie on the floor. It bounced on the pink shag carpeting, coming to rest on a lavender silk pillow. "Perfect timing as always," she thought, rising from the bed and cursing as her nail polish smudged all to hell. "Damn that inventory! Can't he carry his own clipboard?!!" she fumed.
She stood in front of her bedroom mirror (the one on the wall, not the ceiling), and debated which red wig to put on. If anyone ever found out she wasn't a true redhead...Scarlett had discovered through the years that blondes don't have more fun. Red was a lot more entertaining. She chose the long, straight one—the 16 inch, not the 18 inch, as she had told her Joe teammates that she had had to miss a briefing for a haircut. She threw on her yellow and grey leotard (the uniform Duke insisted on) and was out the door.
Scarlett lay on her bed, kicking her feet in the air, painting her nails, and talking on the walkie-talkie. "Oh, I couldn't agree more. That sounds like an excellent plan, sir," she said, while kicking her teddy bear into the air to show her true feelings.
"10-4, Duke. Be right on it." She signed off and threw the walkie-talkie on the floor. It bounced on the pink shag carpeting, coming to rest on a lavender silk pillow. "Perfect timing as always," she thought, rising from the bed and cursing as her nail polish smudged all to hell. "Damn that inventory! Can't he carry his own clipboard?!!" she fumed.
She stood in front of her bedroom mirror (the one on the wall, not the ceiling), and debated which red wig to put on. If anyone ever found out she wasn't a true redhead...Scarlett had discovered through the years that blondes don't have more fun. Red was a lot more entertaining. She chose the long, straight one—the 16 inch, not the 18 inch, as she had told her Joe teammates that she had had to miss a briefing for a haircut. She threw on her yellow and grey leotard (the uniform Duke insisted on) and was out the door.