Page 42 of First-Time Caller
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
“You did not have blond hair.”
“Blond tips,” I correct. “During a very unfortunate phase in high school.”
Lucie tosses her head back with a cackle. It slices through the room like lightning, and my nails dig half-moons into the palm of my hand. I didn’t think I’d want anyone in this booth with me, but it’s nice.
I like having the company.
“Do you have pictures?”
“What?”
“Pictures,” she asks, still smiling, dragging me back to the conversation I’m supposed to be paying attention to. “I demand photographic evidence.”
“Ah, no. All pictures have been burned.”
MONDAY NIGHT
“I don’t want to talk about me tonight,” Lucie tells me somewhere in the middle of the show after a string of apathetic answers. She’s in a contemplative mood tonight. Cookies aren’t helping.
“That’s good,” I tell her breezily, “since this is a segment specifically about you.”
“It’s not about me,” she says.
I raise both eyebrows.
“Okay. It is slightly about me. But I need a pause. Tell me something about you.”
“Me?”
She nods. “Mm-hmm. A deep, dark secret.”
“Just . . . jumping right in there, huh? Right into the deep end.” I swivel back and forth in my chair. My knee taps against hers with every twist to the left. She doesn’t move away and neither do I. I’ve decided a little touching is okay. As long as she doesn’t mind. “If I remember correctly, I tossed a few softball questions in your direction before getting to the good stuff.”
“You still haven’t gotten to the good stuff,” she says, and I believe it. I believe with Lucie, there’s onlygood stuff. “You host the show, don’t you? Sharing your feelings might make you more vulnerable with your listeners.”
I make a face. “I don’t have those.”
“What? Listeners?”
“No. Feelings.”
She gives me a delighted smile. “Oh, you’re one of those, huh?” she says, mocking me.
“One of what?”
“I don’t have feelings,” she grunts in a deep voice, several octaves below her normal register. I guess that’s supposed to be me. “I’m a big man and I don’t need feelings.”
“You’re incredible at doing impersonations. You should pursue it as a career.”
“Aiden . . .” she drags out my name with a bit of a whine and something sharp settles at the base of my spine. I shift in my chair.
