(Not) The Boss of Me - Kenzie Reed Page 0,38

his body parts are not allowed to visit 47th Street.”

Just then, my phone rings with my mother’s ring tone. My brand new phone, which I just signed a two-year contract for, because I optimistically thought I had a great new job, and my old phone was near death.

“I’ve got to take this, guys,” I call out. Pinata-Blake has just been granted a brief reprieve.

“Hey, peach-pie!” My mother’s sing-song lilt makes me smile. “Your dad and I just wanted to check in with you. How’s work?”

“Incredible!” I muster a huge smile, as if I could telegraph it to her over the phone. “If I told you how things are going, you wouldn’t even believe it!” Not a lie.

Isabella, chatting with Edna and Clarita, gives me the side-eye. I mouth, “Stop eavesdropping”.

“So you’re enjoying your new job?”

“Work is amazing!”

Isabella shakes her head at me and mouths, “Liar.”

I stick my tongue out at Isabella, then mouth, “Rude.” Also, unfair. I’m not completely fibbing to my mom. She didn’t ask me which job, after all. I’m signed up at multiple temp agencies, all of which I will be working at again on Monday after I’m done with my weekend crying binge.

“By the way, we’ve got great news! You know our purchaser in New Jersey? They just messaged us committing to the whole next year. In a few months, we’ll be able to afford to come visit you.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to put you out,” I say. “Even hotel rooms in New Jersey are expensive these days. I’ll find a way to come see you soon, I swear. I could fly home, maybe. Hudson’s doesn’t need me to work on weekends.” Or at all.

“Your dad took some time off yesterday to update the electric panel for your house. He replaced the fuse box and put in circuit breakers. Just so you know. No pressure.”

The mention of the guest house sours my good mood. Yes, my parents have always assumed that my New York adventure comes with an expiration date. I’ll become a big fashion star and return home in triumph. I’ll be a famous designer or fashion journalist. They’ll parade me in front of their friends and humble-brag about my accomplishments, and I’ll settle down and open up a little dress shop on Main Street.

“Mom, you really should rent the house out. You could use the money. You know I won’t be coming back home for at least a few years.”

“Well, you never know,” she says vaguely.

You never know…what? If I’m going to win the lottery?

An unruly knot of kids thunders by, screaming “Death to Blake! Death to Blake!”

“What was that?” my mother asks.

“Uh, yeah, I’m working late, and some parents just came into the store with a bunch of kids, and they’re screaming that they want cake. I should go. Love you! Tell Dad I love him!”

“Love you too, princess. Your dad’s out on a plumbing job, but he sends his love. I’ll call you this weekend.”

Isabella breaks away from Edna and Clarita, and strolls over. Xena rubs up against me, and I bend down to scratch behind her ears, which earns me a groan of pleasure.

“What’s wrong? Parental guilt trip?”

“Yep. And it came packed with emotional baggage.”

“You should stand up to them. Tell them you just want to stay here for good.”

I lower my voice so Edna won’t hear. “Okay, I’ll do that just as soon as you tell your mother that you and your fiancée have done the nasty before your wedding night.”

Isabella’s eyes widen in horror, and she crosses herself. “Bite your tongue, woman.”

“See? Parents are scary.”

“Pinata time!” Clarita yells out. She wheels her chair to face the crowd. “Gather round, everybody!”

The promise of earning candy through violence is enough to stop the kids in their tracks. A crowd forms quickly, and Clarita pulls a red bandana from her purse. I plop down onto a folding chair and close my eyes as she expertly blindfolds me.

“She’s a little too good at that, isn’t she?” Isabella snickers.

“What do you mean?” Edna sounds puzzled.

“Mind your own beeswax. What me and the hubby get up to in the privacy of our own home is between us and the Lord,” Clarita says primly. Edna lets out a scandalized gasp.

Before I can blank out the startling image of Clarita and her husband doing kinky-times, someone puts a baseball bat in my hands. Hands grab me and spin me around in a circle.

I take a few staggering steps, then find the pinata. Normally I'm not great

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