"I have to go to the game but I'm not hanging around afterwards." A smile formed on the writer's lips as she looked at the blonde woman's plate. "Looks like you're enjoying the chicken. Either that or you're hungrier than you thought."
"I am enjoying it." Crystal put another forkful in her mouth. "This is really good."
"Yes well our little Miss Taylor is absolutely splendid when it comes to culinary matters." Peter smiled and used his knife to daintily cut his meat. "She'll make a fine wife one of these days."
"Stop it," Laura said, a blush creeping up her neck.
Crystal smiled at her roommate's discomfort, knowing it would be short-lived. The conversation had a way of changing its focus from one person to another.
"You're so cute when you blush," Peter said. "Don't you think so, Crystal?"
"Well, um" She looked down at her plate, dimly noting that only the pilaf remained. Maybe she'll make this again some night. "I don't really "
"Oh, that's right." The redhead laid his hand on Crystal's and squeezed. "I'm sorry, my dear. I keep forgetting that you are on the other side of the fence."
Other side of the oh. "Yeah, well"
"It doesn't matter," Laura said firmly. "Peter, you'd better behave or" She leaned over and whispered in his ear. Crystal watched as he swallowed nervously and nodded. Whatever it is, I bet it's something juicy. Michael simply laughed and helped himself to another helping of chicken.
"Ahem, so
" Peter picked up his fork and held it over his plate. "Did you hear that Michael landed a remodeling contract for that building at the corner of Exchange and State?"
"Where the credit union used to be before the fire?"
"Exactly. They're planning for twenty-five office suites as well as a lounge and lobby." He chewed on a bite of chicken before continuing. "Isn't that right, Michael?"
"Plus all the bathrooms," the blond man replied. "I'll be hiring the subcontractors next week."
"How exciting," Laura said. "How long do you think the job will take?"
"Depends. We're doing the demolition work right now and that will take at least two weeks or more. Once it's gutted I figure no more than three or four months."
"If he makes it three months, we'll make enough to take that trip to Amsterdam that we've been dreaming about."
Crystal's brows raised. After all the bickering and snide comments passed between the men all evening, here Peter was talking about going on a vacation together. How can you be so mad at him earlier and now act like you're the best of couples?
"We can still go if I get the job done in four months, we just can't make that side trip to Munster to see the Blarney Stone." Peter turned toward Crystal. "Laura's heard this story before but I did a genealogy search on my family a few years ago and I learned that my ancestors actually worked as servants for Lord MacCarthy."
"Oh no, not the Knight family history again," Laura groaned playfully. "At least wait until after dessert. Speaking of which " She wiped her lips with her napkin and stood up. "If you would excuse me I have to go inside now and get the muffins in the oven."
Crystal watched as the compulsive woman began clearing the table, stacking dishes and scraping plates. Now why do it right this instant? she wondered. It's not like we need to use the table for something else right this minute. Still a brief pang of guilt was enough to get her in motion, standing up and helping the writer take things into the kitchen.
"The table or the living room?" Peter queried.
"Living room," Laura said before pulling a mixing bowl down from an upper shelf. "We'll be out in a minute." She took the blueberries, eggs, and butter out of the refrigerator. "Do you want to get the muffin pan ready?"
"Oh, sure." Crystal looked at the lower cabinets, trying to guess which one held the cake pans.
"Second one on the left next to the stove."
"Thanks." Kneeling down, she opened the door and peered inside the darkened space. Of course. The square pans were neatly nestled within each other next to an similar stack of rectangular ones. The muffin pans were on the bottom shelf. "Which one?"
"The square nine cup next to the stack of six cuppers."
Finding the correct one, Crystal stood up and set it on the counter. Laura's back was to her, allowing the stripper to watch unobserved as she mixed the milk, eggs, and other ingredients into the bowl. A drop of batter splashed out of the bowl and onto the counter only to find its life short lived as Laura used the dish rag to wipe it up. It happened again as the electric mixer churned its way through the yellow batter and once again Laura immediately wiped away any trace of a mess.
"It would be easier to let it wait until you were done and then clean it all up at once," she observed, knowing it was just a wasted effort. "Haven't you figured out by now that I can't let something like that go, even for a minute?" She carried the bowl over and leaned against the counter next to Crystal. "It's just one of my little quirks like the way you roll your eyes when something irritates you."
"Wha-? I do not."
"You most certainly do," Laura said. "Look, you're doing it right now."
"No one has ever told me I roll my eyes."
Laura moved closer and leaned over so her mouth was near Crystal's ear. "And just how many people have you let get close enough to you to notice something like that?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached over and retrieve the bowl of berries. "Here, you can mix the berries in. Use a wooden spoon and be gentle. You don't want to crush up the berries."
Crystal pushed the eject button and slipped another tape into the player while keeping one eye on the traffic. She was running late and the speed limits were ignored in favor of making up time. The conversation over dessert continued to be a whirlwind of topics and she found herself hard pressed to leave. As it was, she had to go at least twenty miles over the limit most of the way in order to make it to the club in time for opening curtain.
As she pulled her car into the parking lot, a frown crossed her lips. The lot was packed with cars and she knew without looking that the few spaces on the street were filled as well. A glance at the marquee explained why. In black letters against the backlit white plastic was the proud proclamation that the Tom Cat Club was having mud wrestling night. Oh shit. Just what I need. The usual crowd would be replaced by a group of beer guzzling, profanity spewing men who generally couldn't keep themselves from breaking into fights at least three times during the night. Extra bouncers were required on wrestling night after one woman was nearly attacked in the mud pit by a drunk and horny patron several months back. Crystal hated working on such nights. The tips were lower and the sexual harassment was greater. Finding a small spot behind the dumpster, she parked her car and ran to the back door. She had to knock several times before the crash bar was pressed and the door opened.
"Where have you been?" Rick demanded. "You go on in five minutes."
"Traffic," she growled back, pushing past him and walking quickly down the hallway toward the dressing rooms. She almost reached the door when a strong grip on her arm caused her to stop short.
"I need to see you after your first set."
"What about?"
"See me after the set. We don't have time to talk about it now," he said, releasing his hold.
Great, what the fuck did I do now? she though to herself while entering the dressing room. She stopped short when she saw Monica standing in front of the mirror. "Why are you dressed like that?"
"Oh thank God you're here. Rick changed the opening number again. We're doing the roller derby queen number first, then the biker chicks one."
"That's ridiculous," she grumbled, stripping down to her G-string and reaching for the spandex outfit. "It takes twice as long to get into the leather outfits than these. We'll need a longer intermission." She tugged the clingy material up her thighs. Damn this is getting tight. Better lay off the muffins.