Totlandia - Book 1 / The Onesies

Chapter 9

9:15 a.m., Thursday, 20 September

"Scott did what? He dumped you?"

Jillian put a finger to her lips. "Mother, hush! The girls don't know yet."

"He was gone so often, I'm sure they barely know him anyway."

Jillian frowned. "That's a cruel thing to say."

"Oh, don't play holier-than-thou with me. You can't tell me you haven't thought the same thing a million times yourself."

For once, her mother was right. If only she could be right and nice at the same time.

"Ha! So that hoity-toity stick-in-the-mud you married turned out just like your father." Beverly's satisfied smirk grated on Jillian. "I guess it's right what they always say: 'Girls marry their daddies.'"

"Scott is nothing like Dad was." For one thing, Scott was a teetotaler, ergo the odds of him dying of cirrhosis of the liver were slim to none.

The last thing Jillian wanted was to get into an argument with her mother when she should be psyching herself up about the job interview with a restaurant in the Financial District. It was far enough away from the Marina and Pacific Heights that she shouldn't run into any PHM&T members.

It was time to change the subject. "So, you don't mind watching the girls while I take your car to go on this interview? The ad said to show up by ten o'clock. I'm guessing I'll be home by eleven at the latest."

"Not this time." The tone in her mother's voice said it all: Don't expect me to do this anymore.

The SUV would be back from the garage by tomorrow morning. She'd found a credit card Scott must have forgotten about, that they'd taken out in her name alone, and put its humongous repair bill on it—along with that week's grocery run. But she'd be reaching her limit soon if a more permanent settlement didn't force him into paying their expenses.

"They'll be good girls," Jillian promised. "They keep themselves busy—"

"Yeah, well too bad they can't change their own diapers and make my martinis."

Jillian countered with a weak smile. "That will happen, soon enough, but not before lunch. They're smart girls. They're already growing up too quickly."

"Ha! You don't have to tell me! You were out of the house the minute you turned eighteen, like it was on fire or something."

That's because I had to get away from you, Jillian thought. I was too afraid of turning into you...

As if reading her mind, Beverly shrugged. "That's okay. You'll see. These two will do the same to you and leave you as soon as they can. Just like that asshole, Scott."

Without saying another word, Jillian ran out of the house.

*****

By the time she got to Claxton Restaurant, she'd wiped away most of the mascara that had pooled around her red-rimmed eyes. There were fifteen applicants waiting to be interviewed. When she finally got her turn with the manager, it was already a little after noon.

Her mother would be livid.

Then again, maybe the girls had caught on to how she liked her martinis.

With plush chairs, intimate alcoves, low lighting, and a straight-on view of the Bay Bridge, the place was elegant and appealing. The menu was eclectic and experimental.

It had to be in order to command thirty-dollars an entrée and more.

The restaurant was filling up, so the manager was conducting the interviews in an empty party alcove. He glanced from her to her application and back again. "It says here that you worked at The Dining Room in The Ritz Carlton. That closed, like, a bazillion years ago."