The Spinster's Club

AMY: Seven

"Romy said hers is starting to fade." Amy pulled on her skirt. "I swear, the more I scrub, the brighter it gets. It isn't fading at all."

"Well lift the skirt girl and let's see what you have." Janet looked pointedly at her watch. "I only have fifteen minutes left on my lunch and I don't want to spend any more of it talking about your bum."

Amy looked around nervously and then lifted her skirt. With a large swallow she pulled down her panties.

"Well look at that." Janet's Scottish accent seemed more pronounced as she was amused. "You have a Swiss flag on your arse, for real."

"I know. So what can I use to get it off?"

"A laser." Janet snorted. "Seems like Romy wasn't the bitch and the Swiss guy knew it. Yours is permanent, that's no henna."

Amy whirled around. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Pull up your panties."

"I have a Swiss flag on my ass. Who cares about my pussy?"

"I, for one, do."

"Oh shit." Amy hurriedly pulled herself to rights as Sebastien scowled and Janet giggled.

"So Dr. Izambard," Janet said, "are you making cubicle calls now?"

"I wanted to see if you were free for lunch," Seb said to Amy, "I wasn't planning on a lunchtime peep show."

"It wasn't a peep show," Amy protested. "I was showing Janet my tattoo."

"It's Swiss," Janet said to Seb and he scowled.

"What is this fascination you have with all things Swiss?"

"I do not," Amy said. "I'm being hunted by a Swiss militia or something."

"This is precious," Janet said pulling a phone out of her scrub pocket. "I'm just going to text Jen. She'll love this."

"That's not such a good idea," Seb said.

"Oh right." Janet lowered her phone. "I forgot."

"Forgot what?" Amy asked.

"They used to date," Janet said with a grimace. "Ended badly. We really shouldn't speak of it."

"You dated Jen?" Amy asked Seb. "Why? I thought you liked boys."

"Why would anybody think that?" Seb looked to heaven. "Be a decent man and you're gay. Nobody ever assumes assholes are gay. My friend Simon is a raging asshole and nobody suggests that he likes men."

"Jen dated him too," Janet whispered.

"Jen is a slut," Amy said.

"True," Janet agreed and Seb nodded.

"Hey Ames." Josh stopped and looked at everyone gathered around Amy's desk. "Um, the boss wants to see you. She heard you were stripping at your desk. Why didn't you invite me?"

"Because you are gay," Amy said, "and an asshole. Thereby proving you wrong Dr Izambard."

"I'm going back to work," Seb said. "Being down here is like visiting the psych ward but without the good drugs."

"I need to go to," Janet said. "Good luck with that tattoo."

"Amy," Josh said, "don't keep the boss waiting."

**

She should have kept the boss waiting. Hell, she should never have gotten out of bed. At least that way she'd still be employed.

Maybe Romy would still hire her to paint the chocolate shop or sell chocolates.

Amy blinked rapidly. She wasn't going to cry. Getting fired from a job she hated was no big deal. Being unemployed in a depressed job market however was a big deal.

She clutched her cardboard box close to her chest as she stepped off the lift on her floor.

In front of her door was a box about the size of the one she was carrying. Amy approached it cautiously and saw her name written in a large loop in familiar writing.

Cece's writing.

She got both boxes inside and curiously opened the box Cece had left at her door. There was a bottle of wine, a bottle of whiskey, a bag of M&Ms, a letter and a thumb drive.

She opened the letter.

Dear Amy,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I know it sounds crazy but this is possibly the sanest thing I've ever done.

As well as the most exciting.

Carlos showed up at my apartment last night, depressed because he lost the karaoke contest and even more depressed because he said I wasn't there to cheer him on. It was so surprisingly romantic because I wanted so much to see him but thought he wasn't interested and he said he couldn't get me out of his mind but didn't want to be pushy.

We did it like two crazed weasels right there in my entryway.

After we had sex, we made it into the living room where we rutted like two pandas on the couch. It's very uncomfortable since it was only a loveseat and one of the coils had sprung loose but passion carried us and the fall to the floor wasn't too bad.

As we dried off on the carpet, Carlos told me that he quit his soap opera and decided to move back to Mexico and work as a cantina singer. "I need a piano player," he said.

"I don't play piano," I said sadly, "only banjo and penny whistle."

"Brava," he cried, "we can do this together. Querida, Mexico is ours for the taking."

We were so overcome by the moment that we crowded into my small bathroom and he did me over the basin. It was very romantic except for the toothpaste stains on my skirt.

So Amy, we are on our way to Mexico to become performers. With Carlos' beautiful baritone and my banjo and penny whistle, we should be living in the lap of luxury in no time at all.

However, I am leaving an unfinished romance novel which is on the enclosed thumb drive as well as the other tools of a writer's trade: booze and chocolate. If you can finish the novel I'd be ever so grateful. I would have included my laptop but Carlos got amorous and I don't think the laptop is fixable after that.

I love you and Romy and Cass and hope that you'll all be spinsters no more.

Good luck writing. I never liked it.

And when I have an address, will you send me some cream for this yeast infection?

Cece