A Bitch for God by Clark T. Carlton

Author:Clark T. Carlton [Carlton , Clark T.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2023-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

*

“Jacob will be with you in just a minute,” said Vonnie leaving us a plate of homemade shortbread as Jeremy and I took seats before Lakshmi’s desk. She was polishing up a sentence on her computer screen, perhaps from the book she was writing. “Hi,” she said absently as she pressed save and then turned to us. “I hope you’re enjoying your time off, Tyler.”

“I don’t really have time off,” I said. “Just other kinds of work, I’m…”

“Then I hope it’s giving you time to go to auditions.”

“I’m not an actor, I — “

Jacob Hellman burst in without knocking, wearing a beige tie and a white shirt that stretched over his gut. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he gave us his froggy grin and picked up a chair from the corner behind Lakshmi. He did not set his chair with ours to face her, but set it next to hers. I was not the only one who thought this was awkward. She looked at Jacob, startled, and was about to say something before she decided not to. She looked even more miffed when he reached for a cookie.

“Jacob, do you really need that?” she asked.

“What?”

“The cookie,” she said as he took a bite.

“I guess I don’t need it,” he said as he chewed. “I’m just a little hungry.”

“Cookies have their consequences, Jacob,” she said, scolding him. “Keep in mind that you represent me and this organization before you consume any more needless calories.” He shrugged and tossed the rest of the cookie in the trash receptacle.

“Well, then,” she said, eyeing the manila envelope in my lap. “I’m excited to see what you came up with, Tyler.”

“A couple of ideas,” I said. “First one is like the board game Candyland. On the top tier we’d have the Candy Castle and in front of it a throne made of gingerbread where you could sit as the Candy Queen. And then the cute guy volunteers could be like the game pieces along the track that winds through the Lollipop Forest, Gumdrop Mountains and the Root Beer Sea and Ice Cream Islands.”

I handed her a sketch I had made with colored pencils. She looked quizzically at it, her mouth to one side. “That’s a lot of calories, Tyler,” she said. “Even if they’re imaginary. What else have you got?”

“The other idea comes from the song MacArthur Park. The float would be like a little park with some grass and flowers and there would be cute guys along the tiers leading up to you on a park bench where you would have a picnic basket and could wave at everybody. At the front of the float we’d have a big melting cake. Occasionally, this hunky angel in a Speedo would pop out of the top layer and shake his groove thing to the Donna Summer version of the song.”

She gasped. “MacArthur Park is melting in the dark, all the sweet cream icing flowing down,” she sang, and I understood why her career as a cabaret singer had been disappointing.

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