I didn't realize the truth at first, but that wasn't anything shocking. My sisters had more experience with these things than I did. But it's still a bit embarrassing that it stared me in the face.
Leo Roddenburgh was broke, and he was looking for a job.
I thought it was funny, but my sister certainly did not. Bianca was touchy about lying, especially when the lie was that her boys stuffed their wallets with napkins instead of green slips. I guess some things just don't work out.
For her, at least. Leo had been calling me in the hopes of reaching my father, Mr. Canabarrae, so he could fetch a job in the studio. I told him he might as well try hitting on him for hopes of a better result. Once my father would hear that someone had tried to use me, the employee always "decided" on career moves outside the BDC Studio (an unlikely story, because not only did we have Donovan Johnson, but we had Rodney Sudrekas, Max Root, and the King herself). Leo was out no matter what way he tried to sneak in.
"Nobody can try anything I wouldn't have tried when I was them," my father assured me.
"You did try everything in the book, and that's some heavy reading."
"Damn right it is. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"I'll have my timer ready, and I'll be downstairs." I said, hanging up. Solange eyed me from her rough sketches.
"How long will you be with your father?" she asked quietly. My older sisters were my half sisters from my mother's side, and highly against my career-cursed father. If only the emotion could be extended sometimes.
"Only a few hours, I've got to make sure this Tree guy doesn't try to use my bed."
Solange gave me a disapproving look. "His name happens to be Tiry, and Bianca is just inviting him because he's with Oona."
"For tonight," I muttered, though I felt she heard me because of her immediate paper-shuffling.
"And maybe Harper." she mentioned with a smile. I rolled my eyes. Of course he was bound to come up. He had height, dark hair, a tan, a wallet, and a penis. What wasn't there to like? Thank God I never interact with the boyfriends unless it's a long night's morning. And most of those times are thankfully too embarrassing for them to lift an eyelid to meet my level. It was also a first and last sight for the whole of them anyway, considering what their aims were and the fact that said aims had been very much achieved. Maybe sex with Harper wouldn't be completely terrible for me. If my sister did it at least.
Maybe I shouldn't judge too harshly. After all, what I know is only what's been said to me (certainly exaggerated due to infatuation, but I can trust my sisters to at least be able to differentiate between 'ugly' and 'blinding'), so Harper could be a good guy. But the fact that his taste went for a girl named Oona, who was probably the most vile woman I'd ever met, said even less about him. Just the idea of---blech!---even liking her made me less than enthusiastic. Thank goodness my father was distracting me, otherwise I would end up throwing Oona out our window, down five stories and all the way into hell, where her crazy ass belonged.
"Well, he is your Romeo," I said as I put on my gloves, greatly comforted by the thoughts about Oona.
She sighed in a tone that more disturbed than interested me,"Oh, Lizzy, I just hope that you find your own man to make you feel like this someday..."
I scoffed loudly, fingering the last hole in my glove, "Yeah, looking stupid'll be a blast!" She didn't seriously think we were having this conversation, did she?
"It's not just that, Lizzy, but it's certainly part of it, the good parts, and there are a lot of good parts." she said with a tiny smile.
"Whatever, I'm not talking about boys," I rolled my eyes as I pulled the door open, "Especially not with the person who understands them the least."
It wasn't a bad thing to still think of boys as icky, right? Because, let's face it, most of them are.
***
"Well, I suppose I can let you listen in when I talk with RJ about the Holt wing, but other than that we're not doing anything entertaining." my father grumbled as I got out of the car.
My friend Jerry Reynolds, who was staying over, rolled his eyes in the same way that I do, "Honestly, Lizzy, you take such pleasure in boredom it's not even funny."
"Oh, yeah? Well at least my relationships don't involve the always-available girlfriend..." I hissed, waving my hand in his face. I didn't want him to hear me speaking like that, though my father's smug look implied he'd heard it anyway, which wasn't very terrible considering his teachings.
"I'll see you soon," he said before driving away. We watched him before turning toward my building. I bit the slice of pumpkin pie I was holding in plastic wrap from my father's kitchen, then started walking, with Jerry right next to me as habit instructed him. As we ascended the stairs (Jerry always hated elevators), we argued the success of Judd Apatow's movies versus the constant sexual content that fed Marc Cherry's long-established success, and noticed something odd at the stairs' end.
"It's quiet," I said.
"Yeah." it was never quiet. How could it be with five girls?
"Maybe they've been murdered or some shit," he continued. I glared at him, then walked forward.
"Whatever. And Apatow kicks ass. Marc Cherry's ridiculous."
"Yes, but those women are beautiful."
"Sure, sure. Don't they all just look sensational for being sixty-five..." I said as I kicked the door open.
Jerry grinned and pointed excitedly, "You just quoted--!"
"Seth Macfarlane. Another man with a golden plan, borrowed quite generously, yet still marvelous." I looked into nothing but darkness as Jerry raided my refridgerator. Once I flicked on the lights, I found a note on the stool I remembered sitting on five hours previously, opposing any beliefs I had that my sister's sensitivity to her situation would sustain only desires for social interaction to be domestic. Scowling, I was informed:
Loving Little Sis,
And you thought Oona was stuffy! Well, it just goes to show even YOU can be wrong! Oona and Tiry only came, so no Harper...But never fear! As it turns out, Harper's very nearby at a small place of Tiry's, and he'd LOVE for us to come and see him again, so Oona set it up for us to go with them (you ARE of course, on my side, aren't you?). We're only staying for a few days, so don't worry. Although, with Mr. Haufman nearby, I doubt I'll be going back entirely relieved for home!
More Love Than You Can Ever Count,
Solange
I turned to Jerry slowly, and said, "How the fuck am I supposed to tell Mother about this?"
Jerry shrugged, gulped the rest of his (my) milk, and said, "Don't,"
"Bullshit. She'll find out, and then I'll get the rest of the blame. She might even keep me from seeing Avenue Q with Mr. Dalton," my eyes narrowed with frustration at the thought. Jerry coughed.
"You CAN'T! I'm supposed to tag along! How can I watch that shit without you paying? I'm fucking broke! Shit," he, for a few seconds, didn't speak to me and almost appeared to be under some serious thought. I almost bellieved it at least.
"Hmmm. Mom'll only let me off the hook if I tell..."
"But you don't tell. What are you, five?"
"You're right. But considering the fact that said musical is a childish adult show, perhaps the key to its viewing is using methods of a symmetrical genre..."
"Well, I suppose if you put it that way it doesn't sound that bad," Jerry nodded in agreement, "But won't you feel guilt---?"
His words were drowned out by my greeting, "Hello Mother! Yes, I can hold." Jerry covered the mouthpiece quickly.
"Liz! Are you sure this'll work?"
I scoffed, "Of course. Don't you think I know my mother? They'll be back with black-ass bruises by sundown."
***
Jerry turned to me nervously in the car. As I watched the passing landscapes, he quietly asked, "How did I end up going with you to fetch your bitches?"
I closed my eyes as I saw the stupid house get nearer. "I don't know, but I sure wish I hadn't told the oldest one about it."
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