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picked up the fingernail clippers and decided her nails needed a little work.
    This was more togetherness than Hilton preferred but it was going to have to do. Jessie looked parked. “It means what you look like is simply a happy accident, and how you behave is of your own making.”
    “I’d take happy accident any day. So I don’t get it.”
    “Get what?” Hilton said, brushing her hair.
    “Why you’re in trouble when Nat is the one who plays.”
    “Go figure,” Hilton said. She sat down on the edge of the slowly draining tub and applied lotion to her legs. She was going to have to employ a plumber, just not a lesbian plumber this time.
    Perhaps one afternoon when Nat was getting her brains fucked out she could bring someone in to repair the bathtubs at least. Maybe this time they’d get the pipes fixed instead of getting her girlfriend laid.
    “I have a couple of theories,” Jessie offered.
    “In your ever-humble opinion on lesbian life.”
    “I have had a lot of experience when it comes to women.”
    “Oh, do share.”
    Jessie was never daunted by Hilton’s facetiousness. This was a good quality, Hilton had deduced. Most people shut off when taunted. Jessie seemed to view it as kindling. It was going to be a roaring fire.
    “It comes down to you get what you give.”
    “That’s it?” Hilton wished she had more body maintenance to do because Jessie wasn’t going to let her leave. She found her clothes and began dressing.
    “Yes, you see there are basically three types of relationships.”
    “Only three?” Hilton pulled on her shorts and thought about running by the Army and Navy store downtown to pick up some camouflage pants. Fall was beginning to linger in the air. Her friend Doug at the store had told her a new shipment was due in 26
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    any day. This was the first fall of her life when she wouldn’t be going back to school, and she was finding a welcome relief in starting what might appear to be a new life. She had promised Gran she’d finish college and she’d fulfilled her promise.
    “Yes, three—good, mediocre and bad. A good one is basically monogamous and long-term, or it’s a roll in the hay that doesn’t require the U-Haul at the end of the date. Then there’s mediocre, two people who have the roll in the hay and feel obligated to turn a one-night stand into at least a two-year relationship. One or both partners want out but don’t want the attached failure. Then there’s bad, which describes you and Nat, two people who are together but shouldn’t be.” Jessie stopped her pontification, got up off the commode and set the nail clippers on the counter.
    “That clears up everything for me.”
    “Glad I could help.”
    “Are you guarding me?” Hilton asked as it suddenly dawned on her that Jessie had an ulterior motive for keeping her contained.
    “Yes, but it appears the coast is clear. Liz told me to keep you busy for at least five minutes until she got Nat safely escorted off the premises.”
    “I can always count on you two.”
    Liz showed up. “Well, at least you didn’t put out an eye with that stunt.” She put her hands on her hips with the obvious intention of getting some form of remorse out of Hilton.
    “With a bar of soap?” Jessie asked.
    Liz gave her the look. “Well, I mean, I guess you could, but it doesn’t really seem all that plausible.”
    “Did she go running into the arms of the Dildo Queen?”
    Hilton asked snidely.
    “I didn’t ask,” Liz replied. “Why don’t you come watch the rest of Leave It to Beaver with us.”
    “Stupid show. Besides, I’ve got work to do,” Hilton said. She made her way to the attic and tried to forget about Nat.
    27
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    Wednesday morning Hilton was at the radio station an hour and a half early. The show didn’t start until ten. Shannon came in and did her perfunctory smell of the control room and then went out and lay down under