Page 111 of Sweet T

“Well, I wasn’t going to the theatre with him in a Mork & Mindy t-shirt.”

“Why am I getting a totally different vibe from you?”

Shelly glanced away, saying nothing. She squatted, placing her purse beneath the counter. When she stood back up, Tucker was waiting.

“OK!” she said. “You win. We’re screwing.”

Tucker was gobsmacked, his expression cartoonishly animated. “Wait–what? You and Ben?”

“I don’t know why I thought I could keep it from you. It’s like trying to convince a dog you don’t have bacon grease on your hands.”

“I am stunned.”

“Well, don’t be. People fuck. Have been, since the dawn of time.”

“When?”

“No HR lectures please, but since our schedules changed, and we’ve been working alone together some... I don’t know. The dynamic changed.”

Tucker stared at her.

“Relax,” she added. “We’re not doing it here. We’ve been hitting dirt roads. Although tonight he sprung for the Spoon Motor Inn.”

“Ooh la la.”

“Very funny. Now, who’s using antiquated phrasing?”

“But you said you didn’t want any ties–that you were putting your career first.”

“Yeah, I know. What can I say? I caved. He’s so goddamned cute, T, with those puppy-dog eyes, and that red hair. Devoted too. It’s nice. Especially for a bitch like me.”

“You’re not a bitch. You’re just... strong-willed, and a little bossy.”

Shelly laughed. “Whatever. So, yeah. That’s my news.”

“I think it’s great. I can’t believe you’re just now telling me.”

“Uh, it’s not like you haven’t been busy yourself, mister. What with the weird scheduling this week, me cramming for school, and you chasing after little Henry Cavill... we’ve hardly seen each other.”

Tucker grinned. “He does kinda look like Superman, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, only inked and about a foot shorter.”

“So, what are you going to do about school?”

“Not sure yet. We’re playing it by ear. One day at a time.”

Tucker nodded, thinking that seemed to be the consensus lately. “Well, I’m happy for you. You’ll ‌make it work. I’m certain.”

“I’m hoping. Because in the sack–shit, now I’m doing it–in bed, Ben is generous, if you know what I mean. He’s packing at least–”

“Excuse me,” said an older woman approaching the bar with her husband in tow. “Do you know how to make a Manhattan?”

“She better,” Tucker answered. “She’s going to be living there soon.

Shelly shot Tucker a wry smirk. “Yes, ma’am. Would you like that dry or sweet?”

* * *