Keep the Wolf from the Door

Chapter 4 - The Phoenix

4:

The Phoenix

            Des held the phone away from her ear still half asleep. "Des please tell me what the fuck Annabelle meant when she said you weren't coming in tonight?"

            "Language Milo." She said stretching out on her living room couch.

            "Never mind my language. Des, you have to come in tonight."

            "Would you like me to, puke all over your customers tonight?"       

            "You can't do this to me, pound back some Pepto or something."

            "Where's Ariana?" Her understudy.

            "Sprained her ankle in choreography today, the dumb broad."

            "How about Liz?"

            "On vacation. And to save you some time, Kat and Abbey are sick with the stomach flu."

            "Well that makes three of us."

            "Des I've seen you perform with a sprained ankle, strep throat, period cramps and yes, even the stomach flu."

            "Milo, you don't understand. I can't even imagine-"

             "Annabelle thinks you're pregnant."

            Des shot upright on her couch and another wave of nausea hit her. "What? No. Why-why would she say that?"

            "She said you put on weight, she also said and I quote: watching you in choreography lately is like watching the zombie carcass of a previously fat human trying to dance."

            "H-how could she say that?"

            "I need to know if that's the case here, because I need to start looking for your replacement."

            "I have not put on any weight, and no, that's not the case."

            "Great, so when can we expect you tonight?"

            "Look Milo I don't know what else to tell you here.  I can see how I feel in a couple hours but-"

            "Great, see you at the club at 8." Des heard a click.

            Lifting her shirt, she turned to the side glancing at her stomach in the mirror. She did look more bloated than usual but that always happened around her period.

            She froze.

            She ran to her calendar held to her refrigerator by a magnet. She counted back the days. It had been six weeks. "Holy-shish-kabobs." She said gawking at the calendar in front of her. Did she really need Annabelle and Milo to point it out to her? Then again, there had been no concern to keep count in the past.         

            Before James, it had been a year since her last relationship. She dated lightly but nothing had accumulated mainly because of her job. Men were intimidated by what she did.  Most felt threatened by either the physical aspects, or the fact that she earned more money than they did. The last guy she dated told her that she wasn't exactly the marrying type but gingerly offered his penis to her whenever she needed it. The experience had traumatized her.

            She left her apartment and walked down the street nearly running straight into a gentleman that was coming out of the pharmacy. "Sorry," she said stepping around him.