Roommate Arrangement

Homes for the Homeless

Jade

We return to the table. Armstrong looks a little put out that he's been left alone. I assume it's because dinner plates don't act riveted by his engaging conversation.

I sit down and notice my meal is gone. "Did you have my pasta packed up?"

"Packed up?" Armstrong's nose twitches, as if he's trying to mask his disgust. I'm sure leftovers are only for the dog in his house. And the dog would be hypoallergenic and never bark.

"To take home?" I have to work hard to speak normally, and not like I'm addressing a toddler.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I hardly touched it."

"I thought that was because you didn't enjoy it." He gives me a strained smile, his gaze moving from me to Leigh, as if he's uncertain whether he's done something wrong or not.

"It's not a big deal." I smooth my napkin across my lap, so I have somewhere to focus. This night is turning to crap. Not only is what little I've eaten not sitting all that well, now I can't even enjoy the leftovers when my stomach finally settles. And the only things in my fridge are lemons and maybe some salad dressing and random condiments. If I wasn't already highly embarrassed, I might want to cry.

"Why don't we order dessert?" Leigh suggests.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Armstrong asks.

If he's implying that Leigh needs to watch what she eats he needs a slap across the face, or maybe a punch, with brass knuckles, below the belt. Leigh is stunning, with a fabulous body that she maintains with regular visits to the gym. Unlike me. I rely solely on my unfortunate dietary restrictions to maintain my current figure.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'm really looking forward to checking out their dessert selection." Perrie slides smoothly into the chair across from me.

Maybe they have sorbet or something that would be easy on my testy stomach.

When the waitress comes back, Leigh orders some elaborate chocolate lava dessert, even though Armstrong makes comments about it not being gluten-free. She also orders a latte, but makes it nonfat. Perrie orders apple pie with ice cream and a cinnamon coffee and I opt for mint tea and watermelon gelato, because it seems like I might actually be able to eat it without irritating my sensitive tummy. Armstrong orders espresso. Black. No sugar. Of course.

"So, Perrie, you fly out this weekend, right?" Leigh asks.

Here we go. I can tell by her expression that she's planning her attack. Armstrong hasn't been with her long enough yet to fully appreciate her mischievous and devious side.

"I do. You're still okay to come by and take care of Francesca and Tiny while I'm gone?"

"I just have to feed them, right?"

"And change Francesca's litter a couple of times a week," Perrie nods.

Leigh makes a face, like the idea of changing litter is a repulsive task. She grew up with a dog, but I don't think she was responsible for taking care of his lawn deposits.

"Oh. Okay. I guess I can do that."

"I have a list of instructions that should help make it easy for you." Perrie runs a hand through her hair, looking a little nervous. I'm assuming it's directly related to her look of distaste. "I'm sorry I'm asking you to do this, but I can't really use a professional pet sitting service. I don't have time to fully vet one and I just need someone I can trust."