The Panic Pure

Chapter Eight

When Marshal got the call from Danny and was asked to meet him that night, he felt as though he'd been struck hard in the chest. He just had this incredible sense of impending doom, as though a thousand pound weight had been dropped on him from some impossible height.

"What's wrong with you?" Joanna asked. It had become her question for him of late. It seemed like she asked it every time he saw her.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, avoiding her eyes.

She made a harsh sound in her throat. "Seriously, you look like your cat just died. Or maybe like your dog ate your cat then choked and died too. What is going on with you now?"

He sighed, giving in. "Danny called to say he wants to talk to me tonight. I'm going over there after work."

"So?" she asked. "You can talk to him about what happened last night, rehash your feelings, all that jazz. It'll be like a girls night in."

"Except neither one of us is a girl and I'm pretty sure he's going to tell me that he never wants to see me again."

Joanna raised her eyebrows at him speakingly. "Really. I don't know when it happened, but I'm very pleased for you that your psychic powers have finally kicked in."

"What else could he want to talk about?" Marshal rubbed his forehead, feeling the start of a tension headache. "Last night was the kind of awkward that no one wants to experience twice and he's probably already realized that I'm not worth the trouble. He's going to dump me."

"Wow, why don't you get that sand out of your vagina?" Joanna said crassly.

He gave her a disbelieving look. "You did not just say that."

"Oh, I totally did." She leaned forward intently. "Look, I'm no Dr. Drew or anything, but I have eyes and a brain, so I know you've totally got a thing for this guy. If you didn't, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have to listen to all your wangst every single day and we could actually get some work done with like half the drama. So when you start acting like a chick..." she shrugged, "I start treating you like one. You know, one of the ones on their period."

"I cannot believe I ever coddled you through that whole ordeal with that Ben guy. I mean, I could have let you wallow in your despair, but there I was at your side, patting your back and urging you on. Yet now, when I'm in a situation, you tell me to 'get the sand out of my vagina?'" Marshal shook his head. "It's a sad statement about the world today and the whole gender confusion issue."

"You need to stop trying to sound smart and face reality," Joanna ordered.

"And what's reality to you?" he asked.

Joanna smirked. "Reality is that you're going to meet him tonight and you're going to straight out tell him that he's the greatest thing that's ever happened to you and that you completely lurve him. You two are going to share a chick flick moment complete with hug, kiss, and maybe some good old fashioned horny teenaged fondling. You're going to get married, have a couple of fugly babies, and you're going to go around picking out each other's china patterns until you're ninety."

Marshal shook his head. "You are completely sick, you know that? Sick!"

"But you will invite me to the wedding, won't you?" she asked impishly.

He tried to maintain his cold expression, but it melted under the blast furnace of her displaced charm. "Yeah," he sighed. "You'll be at the top of the list."

"Great," she clapped her hands, "it's always nice to be the first person the bride invites. It's something to rub in the faces of the rest of the bride's maids."