Reach Me by J. L. Mac, Erin Roth Page B

hair drifts easily over her shoulder and I can tell her motormouth is at the ready.
    “So?” She leans back passively with questioning eyebrows and I’m honestly shocked.
    One word? Who is this person and where did my mouthy friend go?!
    “What?” I ask as I mirror her relaxed posture.
    “You know what! Nick said you never called him. What gives?! Do you want to be some old maid with a dozen cats or something?” she spouts off lightning fast, then takes a hefty draw from the iced tea I ordered for us when I got here.
    “I’m allergic.” I dance around the issue, knowing full well that Maggie won’t let me skate on this one.
    She lets out a low, annoyed growl that seems to emanate from deep in her gut as she drops her head down onto her folded arms. I sit and stare at the top of her head while she mumbles into the small cavern that her arms have made. Her head finally pops up to face me again. “Allergic to what exactly? Happiness? Dating? Casual sex? Orgasms? Which you need desperately, might I add.” She nods and wags her index finger at me.
    My mouth pops open in shock. “Hey! Keep it down, loudmouth! I was being a smartass about the cats. I’m not really allergic and I don’t need casual sex. I manage just fine, thank you very much.” I shrug and look down to my lap to avoid Maggie’s scrutinizing glare.
    “So you finally bought stock in batteries?” she quips with a smirk. One painted plum purple fingertip pops into the air like a loaded weapon and I brace for the zinger. “Oh, I know, you went and got one of those rechargeable ones, huh? Clever girl, Linds,” she adds, shaking her head sarcastically. “Going green while getting off!” she jokes, her hands in the air like she’s picturing a motto or tagline. “You’re a pioneer, my friend. Even better if it’s solar powered. Do you set it in the kitchen window to charge? Right next to the basil and dick weed? I mean dill weed?”
    “I’m in stitches. Really. Just so funny,” I say completely deadpan. “Hardy-har, smartass.” I narrow my eyes and nod. “I just haven’t had the chance to call him and quite frankly, I’m not chomping at the bit to hook up with him either.”
    Maggie rolls her wide brown eyes dramatically. She doesn’t care about my weak excuse any more than I do. “He’s hot. He’s a gentleman. He’s successful and has no baby mama drama or ex-wives! What’s the issue?” she questions as she ticks off Mr. Right’s attributes.
    “Jonathan. You know they’re still friends, right? I saw it on Facebook.” I cock an eyebrow at her and watch as she has already begun shaking her head at me.
    “Who. Freakin’. Cares? Seriously, doll, you need to get over the ancient stuff. We were kids. Both times. You’re nearing your 30s, chick! Time is running out. Besides, I have friends on Facebook that I never even talk to.”
    I inhale deeply, prepared to do what I always do. Deny. Delay. Deny some more. “Okay, I’ll call Nick tomorrow.”
    “Good!” Maggie chirps victoriously. She smiles widely for only a moment, takes a sip of her drink, and looks back at me sympathetically. It’s that look that kind of look that says plenty.
    Great. I love bad news. “No openings, right?” I guess before she does the ugly job of telling me.
    “Don’t stress about it, okay? Michael said that the minute we’re hiring, the first spot is all yours. He promised me. Want me to bone him for extra points? I so will. You know I would do anything for you and Trey.”
    “No. No. No charity-boning on account of me.” I reach for my iced tea and take a sip just for the sake of stalling for a moment. I battle against my natural desire to slump in defeat and choke back the disappointment I feel. I’m actually starting to get more frustrated than depressed about my lack of a good job these days. If Maggie pats my hand consolingly, like she usually does, I might have to slap her. I’m only a temp right now and if I don’t find something soon,