“How does he know your name?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I was trying to figure that out myself.”
She gestured to the radio. “See? Smart man.”
“I could tell she was desperate,” Dr. Tough Love continued.
“Not desperate,” I lied. “Needy was more like it.”
Once again, Grandma Joyce put her finger to her lips. “Shhh!”
“I ended up getting the parking spot because she lied about a friend dying,” Dr. Tough Love said.
“I didn’t lie. It happened! I just exaggerated the truth a tiny bit.”
“But back to my point about reading the room, I knew she was desperate, I knew what her needs were, so you know what I did? I decided to give the dog a bone. I bought her a mocha on my way out to make her day.”
“Are you kidding me?” I stood and went to the kitchen, slamming my hand on the power button of the radio. “He called me a dog!” I turned to Grandma Joyce. “Can you believe that?”
Grandma Joyce giggled. “It’s just an expression. He was saying that he decided to do something nice for you, even though you weren’t completely honest with him.”
I shook my head. “Your interpretation skills need some work. He called me a dog.”
She pushed the plate of pancakes and bacon across the counter toward me. “Your blood sugar must be low, because you’re overreacting. Eat.” She followed me around the counter with her own plate and we both sat down to breakfast. “That man is a genius. It’s not a surprise his show is so popular.”
I took a bite of my pancakes and washed it down with some coffee. “Not that popular. In fact, he told me yesterday that there was a good chance he was going to lose his job.”
Grandma Joyce cranked her head toward me. “Why on earth would they want to get rid of him?”
I smirked. “Maybe arrogance is not so popular. Anyway, I applied for a job at his station late last night, for the morning show, coincidentally. He’s obviously on the way out. It’s not my favorite station, but it’s the only job opening in the market at the moment.”
“Well, another radio station is going to snatch him up. They would be crazy not to. How are you doing with the money situation?”
“My savings will help me get by for a little bit, but it won’t last long. I need to get a job pretty quick.”
Grandma Joyce picked up a piece of bacon and was about to take a bite, but then paused. “I can always move back to Furlough Estates, you know.”
“No way. I’ll sell gallons of my blood on the black market before I let that happen. You love it here.”
“I do, and I’ve already made some wonderful friends. Most of the men are stiffs, though. They don’t have the energy to keep up with me. I would also love to do that meditation retreat in Palm Springs that I had my eye on, but I can’t find anyone to go with me. Sure you don’t want to go?”
I shook my head. “The closest thing to meditation for me was that blinking contest against you, and you know how that ended.”
She smiled proudly. “This is different, though, because you get to close your eyes.”
“No, thanks. Whatever happened to the ballroom dancing here? I thought you were going to sign up for the weekly class.”
“I was, but I found out there’s one man for every three women. I’m all for sharing a Bundt cake, but a man, no way.”
I laughed.
Grandma Joyce sighed. “Looks like I’ll have to bust out of this place if I want to meet a man.”
I smiled. “It’s good for you to get out, anyway. I can look for a dance studio in town. Maybe I can find a low-cost class we can take together.”
“I’d love that, but please wait until you find a job before you go spending any money.”
My phone rang inside my purse.
Grandma Joyce pointed to it. “Maybe that’s the opportunity calling right there.”
“I doubt it.” I grabbed my purse to fish my phone out. “I only applied for one job and—” I stared at the caller ID, recognizing the radio station phone number. “Oh wow, you may be right.”
Grandma Joyce grabbed another piece of bacon and pointed it at me. “You’ve got this!”
I answered the call. “Hi, this is Lori.”
“Lori! This is Kyle Jacobs, how are you?”
“I’m great, thanks for asking. I would imagine that you’re up to your eyeballs in airchecks and resumes.”
“True, but not many of