Billy's Baby - Annie J. Rose Page 0,1
up stupid rules.”
“Because I won’t let you count a guy who’s been on Social Security for a decade? No, that’s not an unreasonable rule. You can’t name a single man, a living one, who isn’t an asshole.”
“Sure I can, but you said I had to know him personally so I can’t say, like, Mister Rogers.”
“He’s dead.”
“Okay, the Reading Rainbow guy. He’s cool. I follow him on Twitter. He’s totally alive.”
“Have you met him?” I said.
“No, but as I said, I read his tweets and I watched the show as a kid. So it’s like he helped raise me. Total extended family.”
“No one you don’t know personally. If he wouldn’t recognize you and greet you naturally if you ran into him, it doesn’t count,” I said.
“Oh my God, you’re the worst!” she said, exasperated. “Go be cynical in your gorgeous beachfront paradise and cast hexes on the happy romantic couples you see. See if you can drive them apart with your jaded attitude. Maybe stop eating your fries long enough to tell new brides that their husbands are assholes,” she said.
“I don’t try to convert people to my way of thinking. I just know they’ll discover it for themselves soon enough. You know that a girl is better off with a sappy Nicholas Sparks movie and a box of tissues. And one of those really good suction vibrators,” I said.
“I miss it when you were just talking about duck fat. Why did I even answer the phone?” she moaned.
“You know you love me. I’ll buy you a t-shirt from a gift shop. An airbrushed one. Or a shell necklace.”
“I want a shell anklet. Nothing says summer vacation like coming back with a cheesy ankle bracelet made of shells imported from like China or someplace.”
“Your wish is granted, Mags,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll send you pictures of the beach to taunt you.”
“You always do, babe. Did you bring enough condoms for the whole trip?”
“What? You know that’s not why I’m here. I write for a tourism magazine,” I tried to sound indignant.
“Well, you’re always talking about immersing yourself in the local culture. You have to sample the homegrown goodies, don’t you? As a matter of journalistic integrity?” she giggled.
“Okay, duck fat notwithstanding, you are the worst. Not me. You. I’m not looking for anything on that beach other than seashells.”
“What about in town? I know you like to go off the beaten path and pretend you’re a local and stuff. What if, instead of an airbrushed t-shirt or some cheap weed, you find yourself some dick?” she teased.
“More trouble than they’re worth, remember?”
“That’s only if you talk to them!” she crowed, leaving me laughing helplessly.
“You know I’m getting closer to my goal. Pretty soon I’ll be able to quit the magazine and be my own boss.”
“When do you finish that course on monetizing a blog?”
“I’ve got about a month left before my final project is due. And I’d say in three more months, without any unexpected expenses, I’ll be ready to hand in my notice and be a full-time travel blogger.”
“No more generic beach resorts with swim-up bars?”
“Never again. I love swim-up bars, but there’s so much more to see. I want to backpack through Thailand.”
“I agree in spirit but in real life, I’d rather go to a beach resort. You’re adventurous. You’re not afraid to take the path less traveled. That’s a good thing. And your blog will be fantastic. I know you’ve researched all these web design and marketing people you want to hire.”
“Yes. I want to work with good freelancers, give them a boost, not some consulting corporation that’s all slick buzzwords about search engine optimization and no human touch.”
“Do you want to be touched by marketing humans?” she teased.
“No. I want my blog to be successful, and that means working with people who have the skill set I need and share my vision. Not just someone who has a bunch of awards and a high profile.”
“You and your integrity. I’d be hawking diet tea on Instagram if they paid me to do it.”
“Only if you believed it worked. You’re the most idealistic person I ever met. I bet if you were down here on the island instead of me, you’d think you were going to find the love of your life on a white sand beach.”
“You know it. I’m a sucker for a romantic story with a happy ending. None of this tragic crap in the movies where somebody’s dying of cancer at the end.”
“You