“This isn’t going to work!” Jordan protested in a heavily accented English voice, her complaints going completely around Elaine’s little brain, yet again.
Elaine was humming and paused to readjust the gray wig sitting a bit sideways on Jordan‘s head. “Sit still! I’m trying to help you, you know. You and your lousy methods of…..contract negotiation. Why, if I left it up to you to snag a job, it would take an eternity…and beyond. Unlike the Europeans, We-Americans are a bit tougher to please when it comes to which Queen is watching our baby bees.”
She paused to stick a hairpin in between her teeth, then continued her lecture, this time her words a bit garbled, but that was just fine with Jordan. She’d heard enough well-intended lectures from her best friend this morning to last a lifetime. Relocating to America had indeed been a big mistake.
Elaine continued, “If you’re keen on continuing your nannying…,” she paused, trying to determine if nannying was a word, then shrugged and continued, “then you must follow the number one rule. Your one and only fault, has been your downfall - that being, your youthful looks. An American nanny must look the part - old and wise. Age equals experience. Experience equals employment.”
She paused again, then tacked on for good measure, “You’re just too sexy for your own good.”
Jordan clamped her lips together and steamed in silence. This was the most ridiculous, cockamamie scheme that Elaine had ever talked her into - and they had been friends for quite a long while, Jordan having been an exchange student living with Elaine‘s family during her later years of school.
“Sit still!” Elaine spat out again, this time her voice even more garbled due to the row of hair pins she had continued to thread through her lips and as Jordan viewed her in the oval mirror she decided she looked like a Frankensteinian female - with an attitude.
Only an Act of God could dislodge the gray wig that Elaine was attaching to her head. Quite painful too, and the woman knew where to dig-in. She had accurately discovered every tender spot residing on Jordan’s scalp. And no - she wouldn’t stop until she had attached the wig to her satisfaction - sideways or not.
Staples would have been quicker, and perhaps less painful, Jordan silently mocked. Or, perhaps a nail gun she decided as her frustration grew until she finally reached the point of explosion.
“Fine. Go ahead. Work until your scrawny fingers fall off - I don’t care, because I’m not going through with this….this idiotic brainstorm of yours,” Jordan told her, gazing at her unhappy expression looking back at her in the mirror.
“Oh yes you will - unless you want to take me up on my offer of moving in with me and Harry.”
“No! I’d rather die than move in with newlyweds. Furthermore, I don’t like Harry’s habits.”
“Which ones, Jordan? His continual, primal need to feed upon his beautiful new bride…..cough, cough,” she laughed, “or his feasting of cheese snacks on the sofa a-la-nude?”
“Please, I already have that image burned into my head. And I do hope that you’re taking care about cleaning the sofa on a regular basis,” she tacked on amid her hurling thoughts, not wanting to imagine what evil might be engrained into Elaine‘s and Harry‘s leather sofa.
“Then might I suggest that you show a little more appreciation for mine and Harry’s assistance in your job-hunting adventures? If not for Harry’s connections….well, we have him to thank for these three fantastic leads. That’s my Harry!” Elaine beamed, standing back to admire her handy work on Jordan. “And now that we’ve entered into our second year of marriage, I’m uncertain if we can still be called newlyweds, although the idea is fetching.”
