“Shurprisingly...” Britt mused, then stopped, surprised that she’d already lost control of her s’s. “She’s kind of a bitch.”
“Iknewit,” Casey said with calm satisfaction. “Probably because she’s hungry all the time. More margarita?”
“Hit me,” Britt said.
Casey had to work the next day, but she claimed hangovers made her move more slowly and only improved the precision of her haircuts. So they drank about two entire pitchers, all told, before they decided they ought to get Britt to the bus stop before the buses stopped running.
Britt pointed at things all the way to the bus stop and narrated as if they were on a nature walk.
“The stars are so beautiful. They remind me of J. T.”
“That tree is so beautiful. It reminds me of J. T.”
“The night shmells so nice. So does J. T.”
“The whole wide world reminds me of J. T.”
They arrived at the bus stop.
“There’s fucking Rebecca Corday on the bus bench,” Britt said darkly. “She reminds me of J. T.”
Casey was surprisingly patient through all of this.
Together they paused to stare at their mutual nemesis.
This bench featured the ad of Rebecca Corday clutching a purse, leaping with the unbridled joy of being beautiful, wealthy, doable, ubiquitous, and probably currently within touching range, if not doing range, of J. T. McCord.
“She looks like a bunny like that, don’t you think, Casey? Holding that purse, getting ready to jump?”
Casey tipped her head. “I don’t see it.”
Britt fished about in her purse and came out with the heavy-duty Sharpie she used to letter signs for Gary.
“Here, let me show you.”
She looked about to make sure no cars were coming.
She carefully drew ears, long adorable oblong ears, one of them with a little bend, on top of Rebecca Corday’s head. She added an extravagantly fluffy tail to her butt. With a few strokes of the pen she turned the purse into a basket full of eggs. She finished it off with fuzzy freckled cheeks and whiskers and buckteeth.
She stood back with a spokesmodel flourish. “See?”
Casey was in awe. “Omigosh!You’re totally right! That’s so cute! I didn’t know you coulddraw. You’re the bomb, Britt.”
“No, you’re the bomb!”
“You are!”
That went on for a while.
“Hey, I have an idea! You have to makemea bunny, Britt.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“I have all the same parts as Rebecca, right? I have a face.”
Britt assessed her shrewdly by the light of the streetlight. “Okay, okay! Great idea! Iwill. Sit down.”
Casey sat down hard on the bench, and Britt zoomed her face in close to Casey’s to study her new canvas.