Disorderly Attachments by Jennifer L. Jordan

Author:Jennifer L. Jordan [Jordan, Jennifer L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781883523749
Amazon: 1883523745
Barnesnoble: 1883523745
Goodreads: 1066721
Publisher: Spinsters Ink
Published: 2006-12-30T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

No lower than Fran Green.

The next morning, she straggled into the office with a tangled nest of hair, bloodshot eyes and cheeks dotted with rash-like splotches. “Hope you're not expecting much work out of me today,” she said by way of greeting.

“Another date?” I replied, less than amused.

“Two. On a Monday night, no less.” She lowered herself to the couch, inch by inch. “First went so poorly, needed a corrective experience. Followed your advice and called the insurance analyst, Robyn. What a dud. Rushed her home by eight.” You and Robyn didn't click?”

Fran stretched out, covered her eyes and moaned. “That's putting it mildly. Took her to dinner, and the tedium began with a thirty-minute reading of the menu. She wanted the chicken if it wasn't stringy, the beef if it wasn't gristly or the fish if it wasn't fishy. The waitress suggested the special, grilled vegetables and cactus fajitas.”

“Cactus is edible?”

“Not for this cat. Hold the prickles, I said, and my dinner companion called my humor juvenile and inappropriate.”

“Well...” I said with a shadow of a smile.

“Try snappy and erudite,” Fran replied, her voice raspy.

I rolled my eyes.

“After dinner, the broad chewed on me again for unbuttoning the top notch of my pants. Told me the come-on was crass. Was she smoking something? Furthest thing from sexual. I ate too much, filled up the trousers, was dying for relief.”

“Date number two must have been more successful, if you're this debilitated.”

“You got it,” she said with a lustful smile. “Tired from tussling with less.

“The one with the Snoopy stationery and perfect score?”

She nodded, the slightest movement. “Tess Thompson, thirty-something taxidermist.”

I shot Fran a look. “Thirty-something?”

She sat up slowly. “Thirty on the nose, but spare me the grief. Age difference is meaningless, according to her.”

“Taxidermist?”

“Extraordinaire. She has a deer hanging on the wall, so lifelike it looks like the fella's drinking from a stream.”

I winced. “She makes a living at this?”

“Don't scoff. Two hundred for a small bird, couple thou for the big mounts. It's a booming business.”

“Her life's work is to help people hang corpses on their walls?”

“It's an elaborate art form,” Fran said, animated. “These ain't no rags jammed inside a skin. Anatomically correct eyes, teeth, antlers. Wouldn’t believe what she can do with a bullet-riddled carcass. Brings the dead to life. Gives you chills.”

Fran rotated her neck, dropping her head to her left shoulder, back to center and to her right shoulder. I'd seen more range of motion m ceramic dolls, and with each micro-movement, she stifled a cry.

“Did looking at all those dead heads give you a sore neck?”

“Tess slept on my shoulder all night, and I couldn't move that side of my body this morning. Had to grab my hair to pick up my head, and there ain't much to clutch. Took a hot shower and been massaging the muscle on the top of my shoulder.”

“Maybe you should see a chiropractor.”

“I don't need a cracking. Get plenty of those in snowboarding season. This pinch'll work itself out.

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