Page 47 of Stoker's Serenity

She busted out the blender from the cabinet underneath, in the corner of the kitchen and I asked her, “Bring out the hand mixer while you’re under there, will you?”

“Oh, hey, you got it.” She dragged it out and set it up on the counter. I went for it and put the mixing blade attachment thingies into it, made sure it was turned off, and plugged it in for when the pressure cooker went off. Nothing shredded chicken, pork, or beef like a hand mixer, and in absolute record time.

Today’s offering from the protein gods happened to be chicken, pressure-cooked in taco seasonings and salsa. I set to work on gutting two avocados to make some guacamole.

“You gonna do that thing with the mayonnaise?” Linny asked.

I snorted, “Always. What kind of unrefined savage do you take me for?”

“I swear to God, that is like the most ridic thing I have ever heard of but it works oh-my-God good.”

“I told you!”

We bantered back and forth as I added some salsa and about a tablespoon of mayonnaise to the avocados, mashing everything together with a fork.

“So.” She cut to the chase. “What is with this new manager of yours? Does she need to get laid or what?”

“Definitely, she needs a Stoker in her life,” I said, and couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him.

“Ahhh, now there is something worth talking about,” she said, hitting the switch on the blender and drowning everythingout. I rolled my eyes because, for once, I had something – or someone – exciting to talk about.

The blender died and I cut right in, “I am so scared I am dreaming and I am going to, like, wake up any moment when it comes to him.” I said.

“Oh, yeah? He as dreamy in bed as he is to look at?” She turned from where she was pouring Margaritas into two pint glasses and bounced her blonde eyebrows lasciviously.

“More.”

She laughed and held out a glass to me, I took it, and she clicked hers against mine. We drank and she said, “Okay, no holding out on me, I’m gonna need details.”

“Oh, gawd! Linny! How detailed do you want?” I asked, maybe a little unprepared for this. I took a healthy swallow of my boozy drink to fortify myself.

“Uh, detailed. I feel like I spill all my tea to you and girl, you never have so much as a drop to give me. Well, now the tables are turned so, spill,” she ordered.

I sighed. “God, where to begin?”

“Start with the good shit, talk about the sex.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Best I’ve ever had, that’s for sure.”

“Nice!”

“Don’t you want to know other things? Like what he does for work or...?” I left it open-ended and she laughed.

“Fine, give me the mundane details then.” Talk about a melodramatic sigh.

I filled her in as I finished cooking, then filled her in some more over dinner. She sat back in her chair when I got to some of last night.

“Wait, he actually said that? You’re not making that up. For real?”

“Yes! I told him I trusted him with the key to my apartment and he came right back and said it was the key to my heart he was after.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, half afraid she would burst out laughing, that she would call it cheesy or stupid but she didn’t.

“Awww!” she cried instead and put her hands to her chest. “I would kill to have a guy talk to me like that!”

“Right,” I said nodding, the easy smile slipping from my lips as my anxiety and my fear rose to the surface.

Linny sighed, mightily, and looked me over. “Goddamnit, Ren,” she said and I looked up sharply. “No! Not you specifically, more those fucking assholes. I swear to God, the more they fucked you over, the more afraid they’ve made you to be happy and you deserve it. To be happy. More than anyone I know.” She covered my hand with both of hers where it rested on the table.

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