Recipe for a Final Girl


Jenny was discovering that if being in love is a fairy tale, then being a single mother is a horror movie.  She arrived at Café
Rouge, trying to look confident and waved to the manager.  He glared at her, then went on reading his newspaper.

She went over to him to get his attention.

He lowered his paper with a sigh and skimmed her over instead.

"Jen, my sweet, you look a bit peaky this evening.  Why don't you go home?"

"I'm fine."

"But you look sick."

"Oh, come on."

"It's bad for business, if I have to be blunt.  Who wants a sick waitress?"

"But I'm not sick. Gary, be nice.  I need to work tonight.  Okay?"

"I'm not joking, dear.  Go home.  This is Cape Town, not some backwater.  People are discerning.  Why, just the other night
we had that American actress in here.  What's her name again?  With the long, dark hair?"

Having only just arrived, the thought of leaving immediately made Jenny feel as if she really would be ill.  She was fine,
though, whatever Gary said, just tired and premenstrual.  He was being a bitch.  Besides, she really did need the money.

"Oh well, while you're here you might as well fold some napkins.  Then you can be on your way," Gary called after her.

Anger twisted inside her, but she settled herself at the small table behind the ferns and started folding diligently – like a
good girl.
  
He'd been watching her for a few weeks, taking lots of peeks.  He could see her now, her head bowed over her work, in the
restaurant murk.  His fly in fluid amber.  In he would clamber.
  
                                                                                   ***

An early customer had come in, Jenny noticed - he sat at a table close to her, but on the other side of the plants where he
could not see her.  She was not sure whether she should jump up to serve or not; Gary might take it as mutiny.

Almost done with the paper napkins, she looked at her watch – she'd miss the last bus if she didn't hurry, then she'd have
to take a taxi.  Maybe the taxi wasn't a bad idea, as she would have to fetch Chelsea from Maura on the way and she did not
want to walk four blocks in the dark with her three-year old daughter.  Gary and the man at the table chattered away.  She
was hardly aware of them until she heard her name mentioned.

"Oh, you mean Jenny.  Yes, she's still around," Gary said.
  
"I thought she was studying to be a doctor or something."
 
"Oh, she was.  But it didn't work out.  Some personal problems."

"Not clever enough, hey?  And she got married, didn't she?"
  
"No," Gary sighed - with fulsome sympathy.  "That didn't work out either, poor cow."
  
"She must have been here years already."
  
"Yes, getting a bit long in the tooth for the image here, if you ask me.  I'm going to have to let her go one of these days.  It's
not that I don't feel sorry for her.  Don't think that.  I'm not heartless, but one has to think of the clientele.  This is business,
not charity, after all."
  
"Of course.  Now you should see the girls over at Club Fantastica... "
  
"Go there then," Jenny thought to herself and blinked hard, not wanting to be caught crying.  Anyway, her mascara would
end up all over her face and she wanted to walk out the door with some dignity.  She neatened the last napkin, wondering
where she would find another job.
  
As she headed for the door she called out to Gary, "I'm leaving now."

He was still absorbed in conversation with the same man; she recognized him – Theodorus, a wealthy businessman who
hadn't been in for a while.  One evening, some years ago, he'd persuaded her to go home with him.  He'd sampled several of
the other waitresses around here too.
  
When he noticed her he greeted her with a lickerish grin, evidently remembering that night just as she had.  "Leaving
already?  The night is but a puppy."
  
"Yes, I have to go home now.  Nice to have you visiting us again," said Jenny.
  
"What's the rush?  Why don't you come and have a drink with me," Mr. Theodorus asked.
  
"I really must go."
  
"Jen," Gary said, "come and be friendly.  We haven't seen Mr. Theodorus for months."  It was amazing how Gary could smile
and scowl at the same time; he was nothing if not versatile.

Just then her mobile phone rang in her pocket.

Gary looked even more menacing: "What's this? You know you're not allowed to bring your phone to work."
  
"I'm going home," she mumbled and opened the door, almost tripping over the step in her hurry to get away.
 
"I've really torn it now," Jenny muttered to herself.  She waited for the traffic light to change and crossed the road.  Rain
began to filter down.  As she reached the darkened place on the other side someone grabbed her wrist.
  
"Jesus!"
  
"Mem."  It was Takkies, one of the street children of the neighborhood."

"You scared me."
  
"Sorry, mem.  Money for brood.  Just some small change, mem.  Haven't eaten two days.  Four days, mem.  Five."

She felt in her pocket, hating herself for being a pushover.
  
"Here, Takkies."
  
"Mem, thank you, mem."  He snatched the money from her hand and ran off.  He was what?  Ten?  Twelve?  It was hard to
tell once malnourishment had set in, and Takkies had fetal alcohol syndrome as well.  Jenny watched his small figure
disappearing down the street.  He would probably spend the money on meths or glue, or maybe he would save it up for mind
blowing tik: her good deed for the day.
  
She managed to make it to the bus on time because it arrived ten minutes late.  Sometimes it was about ten minutes early.
  
She nodded off on the ride and almost missed her stop.  She rang the bell and almost fell over as the bus driver braked
fiercely.
  
"Don't tell me at the last minute," he scolded as she passed him.
  
"Oh come on, you know I always get off here."

"You're sleeping."

"No, you're sleeping," she retorted as she sprang onto the pavement.

She's disrespectful towards men, he noted, from the shadows at the back of the bus.  The driver was only a black man, but
still.  He had a cure that would make her ill.

                                                                                   ***

Jenny was relieved to see someone else get off at the same stop.  She hated the poorly lit stretch she had to cross before
reaching Maura's place; it had vacant lots on both sides and, as far as she remembered, someone had been raped and
murdered here once.  A streetlight far ahead trailed such a flimsy white ray that one almost expected to see it blowing in the
wind.  An old newspaper flapped past her like the ghost of a small child.  There wasn't another soul in sight.  Rain plastered
strings of hair across her face; she tried to wipe them out of her eyes.

She cried out as one of her high heels caught on something, twisting her ankle, and she fell.

The person who had been walking behind her came up suddenly.
  
"You all right? Get a fright?"  The man bending over her did not have a human face.  Her shock intensified when she realized
that the inhuman face was a mask.  She screamed as hard as she could, scrambled to her feet somehow and ran from him,
shouting for help.  He did not try to chase her; when she glanced back – just once – he was still standing where she had
fallen, staring after her, his luminous face floating in the shadows.
  
"God, what happened to you?" Maura asked as her friend half fell through her doorway and threw her arms around her.
  
"Some psycho nearly got hold of me," Jenny cried onto Maura's shoulder.  She hugged Jenny and patted her until she calmed
down.
  
"Where's Chels?" Jenny mumbled into the softness of Maura's jersey.
  
"She's sleeping, love.  Nice and early for a change."

Maura made some tea while Jenny told her of the evening's events, a bit incoherently at first.
  
Eventually, they ended up on the sofa with Maura painting her friend's nails.  Jenny was completely relaxed now and she was
beginning to wonder whether the whole thing had really happened.
  
"You do remember that story about the murderer, that newspaper article a couple of months ago?" asked Jenny.
  
"Oh," said Maura.  "You don't think... "
  
"Well, I seem to remember there was something about him wearing a mask.  I'd report it but you know the police are
useless.  They'd probably think I'm just one more hysterical female."
  
"Probably, but still,,, "
  
"You remember what a screw up it was when I had that sexual harassment case against my Prof.  That put me off the police
for life," Jenny went on.
  
"Yes, that was a bit of a mess."  Maura frowned, "I still think you should have gone on with your studies, pregnancy and all.  
But, anyway... "
  
"Oh, let's talk about something nice for a change."
  
"Okay, then.  Have you seen that cute guy again?"
  
"Which one?" Jenny asked.
  
They giggled.
  
"You know.  The one that you like quite a lot," said Maura.
 
"No, not since last week."
  
"Have you spoken to him?" Maura asked.
  
"Well... " said Jenny.
  
"You didn't talk to him!"
  
"I don't know.  Whenever I really like a man I'm terrified to go after him.  That's why I always end up with the creepy ones
who chase me," Jenny said.
  
"I think you should learn to be more proactive.  Not that I should talk, I suppose."
  
"Who do you like that you don't approach?"
  
"It's a long story?" Maura said, suddenly refusing to meet Jenny's eyes.
  
"Oh come on," said Jenny.  "You always do that.  I bare my soul to you and you hold out on me."
  
"Anyway, we were talking about you.  What's that guy's name?  You did find that out at least?"
  
"He's Robert Lang.  An architect."
  
"And what kind of car does he drive?"
  
"Maura!" Jenny laughed.  "I'm not the stalker around here."
 
Maura raised her eyebrows.
  
"Okay, okay.  A red vintage Porsche."
  
"And what's the registration number?"  They both laughed now.  "That's a bad sign, by the way," Maura mock-scolded,
between fits of laughter.
 
"What?  The Porsche or knowing about it?"                                                                          
 
"Both.  Beware of men with red sports cars.  They tend to have a little problem down there."
  
"Oh, that reminds me – Theo Theodorus who was in tonight – he has a red sports car too.  So that proves your theory,"
said Jenny.
  
"Yes," Maura said, remembering, "he was pretty disgusting.  He had awful friends too, like that slimy looking one with the
game farm.  Hmm, I thought we were going to talk about something nice."
  
"What is nice these days anyway?"
  
"I made some chocolate pudding.  That's nice.  Want some?" Maura asked, blowing on her friend's freshly shell pink fingernails.
  
"I'll get fat," Jenny complained.
  
"Oh, rubbish.  You're one of the skinniest girls around.  I'd call you the matchstick girl but you're more like one of the
matchsticks."
  
"Remember Gary wants to fire me, the matchstick, because I don't look good."
  
"Yes, and he said you look sick.  A good feeding will help you look better," Maura said, heading for the kitchen.
  
"Oh, I can't win."
  
"So give in and have some chocolate pudding already."
  
"I'll get fired," said Jenny, digging into the rich-looking dessert.

"That would be wonderful.  You're too good for them anyway," Maura said, enjoying the look of pleasure on Jenny's face.
  
There was a cry from the bedroom; they exchanged a glance of concern and hurried to Chelsea together.  She was sitting up
in Maura's bed, sobbing loudly.
  
"What is it, darling?" Maura asked, as Jenny went to hold her child.
  
"There was an ugly man looking at me.  A momster.  There," the child sobbed, pointing.  Maura went to the window and
peered into the dimly lit passageway.  There was no one there.
  
"I don't see anything, but maybe we'd all feel better if you two stayed here tonight."
 
Later, he surveyed the three females, chastely entangled in bed, let it be said... but he heard someone coming.  Time to
stop slumming.  He would have her soon enough.  It would be fine.  It would be rough.  Then it might be amusing to come
back for the friend and the child.  He hadn't had a girl child before – it would be wild...
   
                                                                                   ***

He had already left when Maura woke in the middle of the night, her protective arm around Jenny's shoulders.  She stroked
Jenny's cheek a little, longing to kiss the back of her neck, but she controlled herself, affording herself a few frustrated tears
instead.
  
Jenny spent most of the next day worrying about work.  She bought a newspaper early in the morning and looked at the
classifieds while Chelsea fussed.
   
"I want to go out for ice-cream, Mommy."
  
"When I get paid, sweetheart."
  
"But I want ice cream now, Mommy."
  
"Wait now, darling."
  
Jenny braved going to her mother to ask for babysitting.  Her mother, Pam, met them at the garden gate of her rented
house.  She smelt of booze, as she often did.
  
"You only come to see me when you want something," she complained.
  
"Sorry, Mom.  Life's hectic, you know.  I want to go for an interview at that restaurant down the road.  I shouldn't be too
long."
  
"Granny, we saw a momster."
  
Misunderstanding Chelsea, Pam turned on them.
  
"So you think I'm a monster, do you?"
  
"We don't.  We love you, Mom."  Jenny felt herself starting to tremble.
  
"Love me?  Rot!  Let me tell you where monsters come from, my girl.  People make them all the time with their own fucking
cruelty.  People are bastards, fucking bastards.  Men.  Women.  Everyone.  They torture one another until everyone's a
monster fucking bastard like they are.  The entire human race is monstrous."  Pam's voice was getting louder and louder.  
Jenny felt like she was lost in a jungle of lush shrieks.  The neighbors were coming outside to stare.
  
"Mom, please, not in front of Chelsea."  The little girl was clinging to Jenny's knees.
  
"Fuck you.  Fuck Chelsea.  Bugger off."
  
After this episode, Jenny was only too happy when Gary called her in the afternoon.
  
"Hi, Jenny, my love.  My darling, Rosemary and Carrie have both called in sick.  And Shelley, who should be running the show,
has gone off God knows where.  So I'll have to work tonight, though if anyone deserves a break I do.  Do you think you
could come in too, to help out?"
  
"I suppose so."
 
"Such a star.  Kiss, kiss.  Later."
  
When she arrived at the Café that evening she saw that Theodorus and his peculiar friend, that game farm one, were
already seated inside.  She gave them a smile and a wave, hoping to avoid them – but Gary had allocated their table to her.
  
"Please, Gary."
  
"Yes, table seven.  Dear old Theo fancies you and we need to oblige."
  
"What is this?  A restaurant cum cocktail bar or a whorehouse?"
  
"Whatever," Gary shrugged indifferently.  "And save the pout for your lovers."
  
In the ladies' Jenny had quick prink.  In that bright light she noticed something strange about her hands.  Her palms were
itchy.  She looked at them closely.  There were tiny dark hairs growing out of them.  She tugged at the tufts with disbelief
and yelped.  They hurt terribly.  She rubbed at them instead, hoping inanely that they would simply fall out.  She even tried
washing and scrubbing them vigorously with her nails, but it didn't help.  She couldn't remember ever reading about
something like this in her medical textbooks.
  
With a 'frosted coral' smile plastered to her face, Jenny went to Theodore's table.
  
"Would you gentleman like something to drink?"
  
"Only if I can drink it from your navel," Theodorus chortled, smacking her butt.  She didn't flinch.

"I don't know if that kind of thing is on the menu," Jenny said, working at her tolerant and amused expression assiduously.  
She turned her attention to Theo's friend.
  
"I'd like a beer, my dear.  A martini, my piccaninny.  Some wine, my good time."
  
"You remember Fred," said Theo.  Fred had large pale eyes like a mantis.  She had forgotten how repellent he was up close.
  
"You're a poet and you don't know it," Jenny said.
  
"I rhyme every crime," Fred answered.
  
Luckily, Theo soon grew irritated with having to share her attention.

"Bring Fred and me two Jamesons," he cut in.
  
She made her way to the cupboard behind the bar where the spirits were kept, fingering through the whisky bottles.  
Someone tapped her on the shoulder as she crouched there and she nearly dropped the Jamesons in shock.
  
"You're far too uptight.  That's the trouble with you women – so nervy," Gary said.  "You have a phone call.  It's that
lesbian friend of yours."
  
"She isn't lesbian," Jenny said, straightening herself.  "Just because you're bisexual it doesn't mean everyone has queer
tendencies."
  
"More's the pity," Gary sparked back.
 
"Hi, Jen," Maura's voice sounded tinny over the phone.

"Is Chelsea okay?" Jenny realized that her heart was pounding again – perhaps Gary was right about her being too anxious.
  
"She's fine.  I'm just checking that you're okay."                                                                          
  
"I am, I think.  Theo and his freaky friend are here, but I'm coping."
  
"You're a strong woman, I know, but please be careful coming back tonight.  I wish my damned car were fixed.  As soon as it
is I'll pick you up from work again," said Maura.
  
"Don't worry.  Gary will give me a lift home," Jenny tried to reassure her.  "I'll be fine.  Are you okay?  You sound sad."
  
"I'm all right.  I'm a strong woman too," Maura said, with a careless laugh.
  
"You certainly are," said Jenny, smiling encouragingly at no one.  Gary appeared in the doorway of the office then, making
drinking gestures.  "I have to go."
  
She went to that table again where Theo stuck his tongue out at her and licked the air.
  
"Gary told me your lesbian friend called you."
  
"I don't have a lesbian friend.  Gary's delusional."
  
Fred smirked at her: "Delusional contusional."
  
"There's no such thing as contusional," Jenny almost snapped, quickly taking cover in a smile.
  
"Contusious Confucius," he said, "I forgot that there's a doctor in the house.  As quiet as a mouse."  He put a long finger to
his thin lips.
  
Jenny turned to Theo, "How do you put up with him?"  She was all cheeriness.

"Oh, it's just his way of joking around.  Keeping things light."  So she went on listening to his ridiculous rhymes and serving
drinks.  She wanted to ask Gary about giving her a lift home, but some rowdy gay boys had come in and he was much
preoccupied with them.  A couple of them were quite pretty – and also very drunk.
  
"Gary, Gary," she called, waving at him, but he just waved back dismissively, intent on chatting someone up.
   
The place was packed and the waitresses were run off their feet.  Jenny could only speak to Gary again much later.  He was
pouring drinks at the bar.
  
"I need a lift home tonight."
  
"No chance.  I plan to be very busy."
  
Just then Theo called her over.  He started telling her some complicated story about his latest trip to Europe – the girls he
had met, the restaurants he had visited, the food he had eaten.  He was slurring.  Every time she wanted to leave he grabbed
her arm and said, "Lishen now."
  
Jenny noticed that Fred was still more or less sober; he was watching them with a strange smirk on his face, not saying
much.  Luckily there were hardly any people left in the place, so Tia could cope on her own.
  
When she finally managed to disengage herself she headed for the office.

"What's the time?" she muttered to herself and scratched her hands.  They were itching terribly again, and so, now, too, were
her cheeks and her back.  "Oh damn it.  All I want is to get home and have a bath."   She sank into a chair, the bright
fluorescent light hurting her eyes; she longed for something gentler – like moonlight.  Yes, she wanted to wrap moon waves
round and round herself like a cloak.  She fell asleep for a while, dreaming that she was a foetus in a womb full of long,
matted hair and blood.
 
She woke up with Tia shaking her softly, "I'm going now, Jenny."
  
"Can I get a lift please?"
  
"No, I don't think so.  Pete isn't going your way.  We're going to his place."
  
"Where's Gary?"
  
"He's cashed up and gone already.  He wants you to lock up."
  
"Oh shit.  How am I going to get home?"
  
"Call a taxi."
  
"But they're so expensive."
  
Tia shrugged and left.
  
As she stood up Jenny felt a heavy rush of blood between her legs.  She rifled through her handbag for tampons.  She didn't
usually bleed so heavily.  She needed quite a bit of mopping before she could get to the phone.  By that time she was alone in
the building.  Jenny felt dizzy and frightened.  She wished she could call Maura, but it was nearly two o'clock in the morning
and she didn't want to disturb her.  Half an hour went by.

She looked at her watch, already deciding to call the taxi company again, when she noticed headlights swinging across the
windows of the restaurant.  She grabbed her handbag and rushed for the door, unlocking it and locking it behind her again
hastily.

It was Fred.
  
"Need a lift home?" he asked.
  
Jenny stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on.  "What?  No rhymes?" she asked, blinking against the lights of
his BMW.

"Rhymes won't be necessary for the time being."
  
"I called a taxi already.  I thought you were it."
  
"I saw your taxi drive away just now.  Maybe you didn't notice he was here."
  
"I'll call them again."
  
"Actually, I really need your help."
  
Jenny blinked again.  What was he going on about?  She was so tired.
  
He continued, "I got a message a few minutes ago.  One of my workers at the farm is sick.  Aren't you some kind of doctor?"
  
"I only completed two and a half years."
  
"Yes, but you're available right now.  I'm sure you could do something.  I'll pay you and then take you home."
  
"No, please.  I can't be paid anything.  I'm not qualified."
  
"Suit yourself.  Climb in."  He seemed to think she had agreed, and she was too tired to argue, so Jenny got into the car with
him.

Then he startled her by crying out suddenly, "Who the hell is that?"  Yes, there was a dark shape moving between the bonnet
of the car and the lit up front of the restaurant.
  
"Oh," she giggled with relief, "it's just Takkies.  He's a little beggar boy."  To her surprise, Fred switched off the engine and
got out of the car.
  
"Come here, boy," he called to the cowering child.  "Come with us.  I'll give you some supper or breakfast or something.  
Food!  Food!  It'll be lots of fun.  You'll see."  Takkies got into the back of the car reluctantly and kept silent.
  
"Well, this is very sweet of you," Jenny offered.
  
"Oh, the more the merrier."
  
"How far away is this place?"
  
"Not too far.  I'll drive fast."
  
"Not too fast, I hope."
  
"Just relax.  Where's your daughter tonight?"
  
"At a friend's place."
  
"Pretty little girl, that one.  Nice mouth."
  
"When did you meet my daughter?"
  
There was a silence.
  
"I can't remember."
  
As the car sped through Cape Town, Jenny tried to quell the anxiety in her heart.
  
"Are you okay back there, Takkies?" she asked.

"Yes, mem," said the boy sullenly.  He, too, seemed to have grave doubts about the good sense of this outing.
  
Fred was quiet.
  
"What do you farm with?" Jenny asked.  Maybe small talk would help.
  
"What?" Fred snapped.
  
"What animals do you have on your farm?" Jenny asked again.
  
"I breed Cape hunting dogs.  They're an endangered species."
  
Maura woke up with a start at about quarter to five in the morning.  After fumbling with her clock radio she switched on the
bedside light.  She'd had the most terrible dream and needed to reassure herself that it wasn't true.  Chelsea moaned in her
sleep – as if she too suffered from nightmares.  Maura sighed.  Maybe she should just get up and make tea.  When she
stood up her head throbbed – some aspirin as well then.  She patted Chelsea's shoulder and rearranged the duvet over her.
  
She yawned as she shuffled down the passage to the bathroom.  What had that dream been about? She seemed to
remember some canine beast or other and lots of gore – the moon broken in someone's fist, like a blood-filled egg.  It was
better not to remember those images as whatever she had witnessed had filled her with revulsion.  Maura looked at herself in
the bathroom mirror; she thought she saw a shadow passing across the window behind her.
  
"Jennifer," she called out.
  
But there was no knock at the door.

She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on.  Her cat jumped down from the sofa, where it had been sleeping, and trotted
over to her, rubbing itself against her legs and purring.
  
"Want some milk?"
  
The cat meowed in reply and then, as she was pouring the milk into a saucer, gave a yowl.
  
"What's the matter with you?  A bit of patience please."
  
But the cat ran off, yowling again.
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake make up your mind," Maura grumbled.
  
When she had finished pottering about Maura noticed a noise outside her front door – a rough snuffling.
  
"Is that a dog about?  No wonder you were scared, poor kitty.  Let me chase him away."  Maura unlocked the door and swung
it open.
  
It wasn't exactly a dog.
  
That evening Gary was surprised to see Jenny arrive early.  She looked superbly well – not to say bright-eyed and bushy-
tailed.  He felt compelled to stand up and give her a hug.
  
"You look lovely tonight.  Did you get laid or something?  Thanks for locking up, by the way."
  
Jenny laughed, "No problem."
  
"You look so happy.  What's up?"
  
"Oh Gary, you are a funny old thing."  Jenny disengaged herself from him and strode over to the office.  Tia found her in
there a little later.
  
"Hey girl," she said, "you got home okay then?"
  
"Evidently."
  
"I'm glad.  I felt a bit bad about leaving you here last night."
  
"No need to worry," Jenny smiled at her broadly.
  
"You look different."
  
"Do I?"  Jenny laughed again.
  
"A person can't get plumper overnight.  I must be imagining things."
  
"You must be."
  
"But you look so lovely all of a sudden – and so healthy."
  
"Table!" they heard Gary shout.
  
"I'll go," said Jenny.
  
She found Robert Lang sitting at the bar chatting to Gary.
  
"Mr Lang," she said, going over to him, "how lovely to see you."
  
He met her eyes and smiled, "I need a table for five but I'm a bit early.  Why don't you have a drink with us?"
  
"Sounds good.  Thanks."
  
"Oh, by the way, Jen, did you see the TV this evening?" Gary asked.
  
"No," she said.
 
"Yes, we were just talking about it," Robert explained.
  
Gary went on, "That rich friend of Theo's – it was on the news – he was killed in the early hours of this morning.  Torn to
bits by his hunting dogs apparently.  Half-eaten.  He was spread out over an acre."
  
Jenny looked at her nails, "You must be joking."
  
"He was right here last night and now he's dead.  Just at that table over there." Gary pointed dramatically.  He seemed quite
emotional about it.
  
"And there was that kid."
  
"Kid?" asked Jenny, staring wide-eyed.
  
"Yeah, some kid.  They found him wondering around in the veldt nearby in a state of shock.  Can't get a word out of him,
they say," Robert said and shook his head sympathetically.
  
"It seems that no one knows where the boy comes from.  He isn't from around there.  It's weird, I tell you," Gary added.
  
"So weird," echoed Jenny.
  
"Let's talk about something nice – like you, for instance," said Robert.
  
Jenny laughed, her eyes glittering.
  
"You're so pretty, Jenny," Robert went on, "I never noticed how gorgeous you are before."
  
"So do you want my phone number or what?" Jenny asked.  She looked down at their thighs then – so close together.  
There was a two-pronged stain of dried blood on one of hers, on the soft inner side.  Luckily no one had noticed.  She
pressed her legs closer together.
  
"If you were the very last girl ever to give me her phone number I'd die a happy man," gushed Robert.
  
Jenny smiled a sugary smile, showing off dazzling teeth.  She placed a firm hand on Robert's shoulder, "Die a happy man?  
Don't worry, darling, you will."
  
Tia interrupted them then.  "Phone, Jenny."
  
Jenny brushed against Robert's knee as she passed him to take her call.

Maura's voice sounded far away, like it was coming from the moon.  "So," her voice was shaky, "did you – like – come
back for the cat or what?  Sigourney Weaver in "Alien", kind of style."
  
Jenny smiled, but her smile faded when she realized that Maura was crying.  She waited patiently through a silence that was
punctuated with a few sobs.
  
"Chels okay?"
  
"She is.  I... I really love you," Maura stammered out after a while.
  
"I know, my angel," Jenny said, her velvet voice blurring a little, "I love you too."

Linda Ann Strang