not to tell her about the Pantyhose
Murder. Kandi tends to worry about me, and I
didn't want one of her scare-tactics lectures
about the dangerous side effects of private detective work, like getting injured and/or killed.
So I told her about Andrew instead.
"Andrew Ferguson called. He's back from
Germany."
Her eyes lit up. "The cutie from the bank?"
I nodded. "We had lunch the other day."
"What did you order? Nothing fattening, I
hope."
What is it about me that turns my friends into
nagging mother substitutes?
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I ordered a nice juicy
burger with fries. Andrew says he likes a girl
with a healthy appetite."
"That's what they all say. But when push
comes to shove, what they really like is a girl
who can bounce walnuts off her abs."
The light on the Slo-Eater flashed, and she
took another bite of her tostada.
"When are you seeing him again?"
"He said he'd call to set up a dinner date."
"And has he?"
"Well, no."
She smiled smugly.
"My point, exactly. Really, Jaine. I'm only saying this because I love you and I want you to be happy, but you could stand to lose a pound or
two. 11
It was true, of course. On both counts. I could
stand to lose some weight. And she was only saying it because she loved me.
"Won't you give the Slo-Eater a try?" she
pleaded.
By this time, I'd finished half my combo plate
and Kandi hadn't even made it to her third bite
of tostada.
"Okay," I sighed. "I'll try it."
Kandi was so happy, she forgot to take her
next bite when the light flashed.
"You're going to love it," she squealed. "Not
only do you lose weight, but you get to savor
each bite. Now put a piece of food on your
fork."
I cut off a healthy hunk of my remaining
chimichanga.
"A smaller piece."
I shot her a dirty look and cut off a smaller
piece.
"Now wait for the light to flash, and then you
can eat it."
I sat there holding my fork halfway to my face
waiting for the damn light to flash. I waited and
waited, but nothing happened. After a while, I
felt my fingers starting to cramp.
"This thing must be broken," I said. "Surely it
should've flashed by now."
'Jaine, it's only been six seconds."
"It has to be longer than that."
"Now it's seven seconds. Only twenty-three
more to go."
"Kandi, I'd like to finish this chimichanga before menopause."
"Surely you can wait twenty-three teeny little
seconds, can't you?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I can't," I said, picking up the chimichanga and biting off a mouthstuffing hunk.
Kandi exhaled a stream of disapproving tsktsks.
"Don't you want to look thin for Andrew?"
"He's probably not going to call anyway."
Twenty minutes later, I'd finished my combo
plate, a piece of flan, and after-dinner coffee.
Kandi was working on bite #7 of her tostada.
It's a good thing I love her so much; otherwise,
I'd shoot her.
I was wrong about Andrew. Just as I was settling into bed that night with a good book and a
warm cat, he called.
"Hope I'm not calling too late," he said. "Sam
and I just got through working."
"No, it's not too late," I said, not exactly
thrilled at the thought of Andrew and Sam
working thigh by thigh until 10:30 at night.
"I was wondering if you're free for dinner tomorrow night," he said.
For once in my life I decided to play it cool.
"Gee, I don't know. Let me check my calendar to see if I've got anything scheduled."
Yeah, right. The only date I had scheduled
was with the clown at the Jack in the Box. But I
kept up the charade. I waited a few seconds
(one-tenth of a bite in Kandi's new diet
regime), then got back on the line.
"Yes, I can make it. Dinner sounds great."
"Wonderful. I'll pick you up around 7:30.
I hung up and turned to Prozac, who was
curled up on my pillow.
"Guess what, Pro?" I said, scooping her up in
my arms. "I'm having dinner with Andrew to
morrow night!"
Him again?
She wriggled free from my grasp.
Haven't you learned your lesson? Men are nothing
but
Murder. Kandi tends to worry about me, and I
didn't want one of her scare-tactics lectures
about the dangerous side effects of private detective work, like getting injured and/or killed.
So I told her about Andrew instead.
"Andrew Ferguson called. He's back from
Germany."
Her eyes lit up. "The cutie from the bank?"
I nodded. "We had lunch the other day."
"What did you order? Nothing fattening, I
hope."
What is it about me that turns my friends into
nagging mother substitutes?
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I ordered a nice juicy
burger with fries. Andrew says he likes a girl
with a healthy appetite."
"That's what they all say. But when push
comes to shove, what they really like is a girl
who can bounce walnuts off her abs."
The light on the Slo-Eater flashed, and she
took another bite of her tostada.
"When are you seeing him again?"
"He said he'd call to set up a dinner date."
"And has he?"
"Well, no."
She smiled smugly.
"My point, exactly. Really, Jaine. I'm only saying this because I love you and I want you to be happy, but you could stand to lose a pound or
two. 11
It was true, of course. On both counts. I could
stand to lose some weight. And she was only saying it because she loved me.
"Won't you give the Slo-Eater a try?" she
pleaded.
By this time, I'd finished half my combo plate
and Kandi hadn't even made it to her third bite
of tostada.
"Okay," I sighed. "I'll try it."
Kandi was so happy, she forgot to take her
next bite when the light flashed.
"You're going to love it," she squealed. "Not
only do you lose weight, but you get to savor
each bite. Now put a piece of food on your
fork."
I cut off a healthy hunk of my remaining
chimichanga.
"A smaller piece."
I shot her a dirty look and cut off a smaller
piece.
"Now wait for the light to flash, and then you
can eat it."
I sat there holding my fork halfway to my face
waiting for the damn light to flash. I waited and
waited, but nothing happened. After a while, I
felt my fingers starting to cramp.
"This thing must be broken," I said. "Surely it
should've flashed by now."
'Jaine, it's only been six seconds."
"It has to be longer than that."
"Now it's seven seconds. Only twenty-three
more to go."
"Kandi, I'd like to finish this chimichanga before menopause."
"Surely you can wait twenty-three teeny little
seconds, can't you?"
"No, as a matter of fact, I can't," I said, picking up the chimichanga and biting off a mouthstuffing hunk.
Kandi exhaled a stream of disapproving tsktsks.
"Don't you want to look thin for Andrew?"
"He's probably not going to call anyway."
Twenty minutes later, I'd finished my combo
plate, a piece of flan, and after-dinner coffee.
Kandi was working on bite #7 of her tostada.
It's a good thing I love her so much; otherwise,
I'd shoot her.
I was wrong about Andrew. Just as I was settling into bed that night with a good book and a
warm cat, he called.
"Hope I'm not calling too late," he said. "Sam
and I just got through working."
"No, it's not too late," I said, not exactly
thrilled at the thought of Andrew and Sam
working thigh by thigh until 10:30 at night.
"I was wondering if you're free for dinner tomorrow night," he said.
For once in my life I decided to play it cool.
"Gee, I don't know. Let me check my calendar to see if I've got anything scheduled."
Yeah, right. The only date I had scheduled
was with the clown at the Jack in the Box. But I
kept up the charade. I waited a few seconds
(one-tenth of a bite in Kandi's new diet
regime), then got back on the line.
"Yes, I can make it. Dinner sounds great."
"Wonderful. I'll pick you up around 7:30.
I hung up and turned to Prozac, who was
curled up on my pillow.
"Guess what, Pro?" I said, scooping her up in
my arms. "I'm having dinner with Andrew to
morrow night!"
Him again?
She wriggled free from my grasp.
Haven't you learned your lesson? Men are nothing
but
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