Wicked Games

Jillian Lowe was beat. She was now in her sixth straight hour at her computer, cranking out product descriptions for a soap company that was about to launch their website. She was a little worried that she wouldn't meet her 6PM deadline, but deep down she knew that she'd be fine. It was only five o'clock now. A full hour—more than enough to time to wrap up and proof. Admittedly a procrastinator, Jillian tended to put projects off until the last minute. But she always busted it out in the end. It was amazing how inspiration always seemed to come in the eleventh hour, but it did. She prided herself on rarely missing a deadline, and on providing her clients (many of whom needed ad copy) with unique, original text. When she wasn't rushing to meet the deadline, she spent a lot of her life in the imaginary worlds in her head. She just knew there was a novel in there somewhere—in fact, she had more ideas than she could count. The problem was sitting down to write them. When it was for a client, finding the motivation to write was no problem. It was how she paid the rent, paid the Internet and cell phone bills and fed herself (and her Terrier mix Munchkin, to boot). When it came to writing for herself, she often put it off because she was too exhausted. Such is the life of a freelance writer...

Jillian typed the last few words of the last description, then hit 'Save' and went back to the top to start proofing. It wouldn't take too long—an hour at most. But just as she began, Munchkin jumped up on her. He was trying to get into her lap and he jostled her hands, making her fingers hit the keys willy-nilly. Jillian bit back her frustration. She reflected how glad she was that she'd hit 'Save' just a few seconds before.

"Not now, Munchkin," she said sharply.

Munckin sat down and looked up at her with huge, watery eyes. Jillian sighed, realizing just how well her mutt had her wrapped around his little paw. He knew exactly what to do to tug at her heartstrings.

"I'm sorry, buddy," she cooed, taking her hands from the keyboard and leaning over to minister to her baby. "I'm just so close to the end of this job..." She scratched Munchkin's neck—a special favorite of his. He began to grunt with pleasure, which made Jillian giggle outright. Munchkin listed to one side, leaning into the scratching and letting his tongue loll out. He'd come from the pound, and was definitely not anybody's idea of a purebred anything. A mutt through and through, Munchkin was not the least bit afraid of looking goofy—which was maybe the thing Jillian loved most about him. She wished she was that unselfconscious.

She broke down and lowered herself to the carpeted floor and played with Munchkin for a solid five minutes. When he was breathing hard and seemed satisfied enough, Jillian returned to her keyboard feeling refreshed and ready to take on the proofing. But five minutes in, she was interrupted again—this time by her cellphone, which began to chirp from its place on her desk. She recognized the personalized ring. Beth. Her bestie. Would the interruptions never cease? She grabbed the phone and punched the 'Answer' button.

Jillian and Beth had a rule. If they could answer, they would. It was their way of being there for each other at the drop of a hat. Sometimes (like now) it wasn't the most convenient thing. Jillian couldn't even count the number of times Beth had interrupted her writing flow. But if that was the price of the best, most reliable friendship she'd ever had in her adult life, Jillian was willing to pay it.

"Hey, what's up? I'm just about to finish a job."

"That's great!" Beth said brightly. "Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to remind you that I'll be by to get you at 6:45."

"Uh...remind me what we're doing tonight?"

Beth sighed dramatically on the other end of the line. "Jillian! We're going for our private session at the Wright Way."

"Oh, right, right, right," Jillian said, feeling her heart sink. She'd completely forgotten that she and Beth had a date at the swanky gym.

"It's going to be great! Dust off that sports bra, girl. We need to leave at 6:45 sharp."