Scissor Link, Georgette Kaplan [best 7 inch ereader .TXT] 📗

much success. “My man Mac and I will play co-op, a little Gears of War—or I don’t know, something rated Teen, whatever. Is he old enough to watch R-rated movies yet? I mean, old R-rated movies, like Friday the 13th, where they’re so tame they’re basically a seventies PG?”

Regan sighed and Indian-sat, balancing the tray on her lap. “We’re not going to Hawaii.”

“You’re not?” Wendy replied.

Keith stopped the lawnmower. “We’re not?”

Regan looked over her shoulder. “No, honey, I was proving a point.”

“So we didn’t win the contest,” Keith reiterated.

“No, we didn’t.”

Keith moved to pull the ripcord again, but stopped with it in his hand. “Wait, did we lose or have they just not announced the winners yet?”

“We didn’t enter the contest.”

Keith pulled the ripcord, getting the lawnmower to fizzle but not turn over. He let go of it instead of giving it another pull. “Well, why didn’t we? I would love to go to Hawaii!”

“There is no contest!”

“What is going on with this family?”

“Just…finish mowing the lawn,” Regan said. “It’s a sister thing.”

“That’s what you said about why we couldn’t get a clown for Mac’s birthday.”

“It’s for the best,” Wendy assured him.

Regan took the basketball from her. “Hey, Mac, could you go play somewhere else for a little bit? Your Aunt Wendy and I need to talk.”

Mac took the basketball and tried to spin it on his finger as he walked away, with even less success.

Wendy swiped a glass of lemonade from Regan. “You know, if you want to go to Hawaii, you can probably go to Hawaii. It’s really not that expensive as long as you clear your cookies before you go to the airline website, because they will jack up the prices on you—”

“This isn’t about Hawaii. It’s that my sister is in the prime of her life, I just asked her to spend the weekend looking after a seven-year-old, and you agreed to it without thinking.”

“I know, I’m a wonderful sister.” Wendy ran her fingers through her hair with care, as if taking pains not to dislodge her halo.

“Wendy! You have no social life.”

Wendy sighed. “I have Tina. And very many Tumblr followers. Some of them even reblog my posts. And if this is about the girlfriend thing, look—”

“It’s simple,” Regan insisted. Then, God help the single, she started counting on her fingers. “Step one, you put yourself out there. Step two, you see something you want—a career, a relationship, whatever—you go after it.”

Wendy waved her hand in the air. “Okay, maybe it’s that simple in Straightland, which is admittedly most places besides San Francisco, but I don’t have it so easy. Pussy in Straightland, it’s a seller’s market.”

“Trust me, it is not.” Regan set down the tray, then checked automatically to see if Mac was in earshot of a conversation about the market value of pussy. He wasn’t. “I see plenty of twenty-something straight women in therapy and relationships aren’t easy for them, either. All the good men are either married or gay.”

“You’re married,” Wendy pointed out. “Look at him, he has…arms! He’s mowing the lawn! What else can you ask for? You have the perfect relationship.”

“It’s nice,” Regan admitted. “But I got in on the ground floor; I’ve been dating him since elementary school.”

“Exactly my point. How many gay women do you think went to our elementary school?”

“Suzie Mendler.”

“What, really?” Wendy’s face went blank as she helplessly reviewed every interaction she’d ever had with her. Not so much as a high sign.

“Yeah, she came out last year, it was all over her MySpace page.”

“Well, MySpace, of course I didn’t hear about it.”

Regan reached out to take Wendy’s hand. “Wendy, you are my sister and I love you and I promise, it doesn’t matter to me whether you’re straight or gay or bisexual or a furry.”

“I can’t believe that’s what comes fourth for you.”

“Sure. The point is: I just want you to be happy with whoever it is that…makes you happy! Whoever that very lucky person is! Or whatever kind of animal they pretend to be.”

“No, it’s fine,” Wendy told her. “And it’s not like there’s no one—”

Regan reared up, crossing her arms. “Oh, so there’s someone?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That’s literally what you just said.”

Wendy mouthed ‘fuck’ and drained her glass of lemonade dry. When she finished, Regan was tapping her fingers on her bicep, patiently awaiting an explanation.

“You know,” Wendy said, “you really should get a shorter basketball hoop, he is a small child, he cannot throw a ball that high. In fact, you might want to give up on basketball altogether, see about raising a jockey.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Regan laughed. “I’m doing your laundry, c’mon, you owe me.”

Wendy groaned and lay back, pillowing her hands behind her head. “She’s this…co-worker in my new department and she is very…cool.”

“Oh, so she’s laid-back, kinda Zen, like a surfer, that’s good.” Regan crossed her fingers. “Like goes with like.”

“No, I mean she’s a little frosty, on the outside? Tightly wound? You’d like her.”

“Okay then, a bit of a Type-A personality, something of a realist to keep your dreamer ass grounded. Excellent.” Regan held her two index fingers apart and then brought them together. “Opposites attract.”

“Also, she’s an alien from the Omega Theta galaxy and she feeds on human brains.”

“Does she want children?” Regan asked without missing a beat.

Wendy unspooled her leg to kick at her sister.

“Watch it, watch it—” Regan scooped up the tray. “You’re gonna spill my lemonade. It’s all organic, you know.”

“It’s made from lemons, water, and sugar, what else would it be?”

“C’mon, c’mon, your office crush, she’s Type-A, what else?”

Wendy bit her lip. It almost ached to think of Janet. A good ache, but if she let herself forget that, it was almost certainly not going to happen. Well, let Regan think it was possible, at least. She deserved to live in hope for a few more years, at least.

“She’s passionate…very passionate. Powerful. It’s all interior.” Wendy tapped between her breasts. “In here, you know? But you can tell it’s there. Just looking