Loose Screws Read Online Free PDF Page A

think?”
    Hence the Scarsdale pilgrimage.
    â€œOh, and listen…” I heard what could pass for a heartfelt sigh. “I didn’t mean for you to get saddled with all the bills, I swear. Please, send them on to the office, okay? I promise I’ll take care of them. Well.” Throat clearing sounds. “I guess…well. ’Bye. And, Ginge?”
    â€œWhat?” I snapped at the hapless machine.
    â€œThis has nothing to do with you, okay? I mean it. You’re really terrific. God, I’m sorry.”
    You got that right.
    After fast forwarding through the rest of the messages, all from my mother, I glanced down at the cake to discover I’d somehow eaten half of it. Not that this was really any big deal since—don’t hate me—I can eat anything I want and never gain weight (although I have a sneaking suspicion all those calories are lying around my body like a bunch of microscopic air mattresses set to inflate on my fortieth birthday). But it was all sitting at the base of my throat when I started to cry—a sobbing-so-hard-I-can’t-catch-my-breath jag that, combined with the cake residue in my mouth, made me choke so badly I thought my brain was going to explode.
    Five minutes later, reduced to a limp, shuddering, sweating rag, I came to the disheartening conclusion that although eviceration with a dull knife would have been preferable to what I was feeling at that moment, I still loved the scumbag. Nearly a week later, I still feel that way. I mean, why else would I have put away a dozen bags of Cheetos? I should hate him, I know that, but I’ve never been in love before, not really, and I find it’s not something I can just turn off like a faucet. Which eithermakes me very loyal or very stupid. Yes, I’m hurt and furious and want to inflict serious bodily damage, but when I played back the message (oh, and like you wouldn’t?), he just sounded so upset….
    Well. Anyway. I sat, still shoveling in cake and letting my emotions buffet me when the phone rang, making me jump out of my skin because I’d pushed the ringer too high. Too stunned to remember I wasn’t supposed to be answering, I picked up.
    â€œHey, Ginger? It’s Nick.”
    Bet you saw that coming, didn’t you?
    I, however, didn’t. And I thought, oh, yeah, like this is really going to make me feel better. I rammed my hand through my hair, only my engagement ring got caught in a snarl, which made me wince, which launched me into another coughing fit.
    Nick asked if I was okay, but of course I couldn’t reply because I was choking to death. “Hang on,” I croaked into the phone, then lurched toward the sink, gulped down a half glass of tepid water since I’d run out of bottled. Yech.
    A minute later, I picked up the phone and got out, “Guess who I just heard from?”
    â€œI know,” Nick said. “I just got word. Munson’s fine.”
    He almost sounded disappointed.
    Bet Nick wouldn’t just walk away like that, I thought, only to remember that’s exactly what he’d done.
    My gaze drifted to my left hand and the engagement ring the size of Queens I’d worn proudly since Valentine’s Day. Two carats, emerald cut, platinum setting. Hell, for this puppy, I’d even let my nails grow out.
    I haven’t decided what to do with that, either.
    But back to the phone call.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Great news, huh?”
    â€œDamn,” Nick said softly. Like it wasn’t a swear word, somehow. “What happened?”
    Much to my chagrin, tears again stung my eyes. “He left a message on my answering machine. My answering machine. ”
    â€œYou’re kidding me? Man, that is so lame,” Nick said,and anger tried to suck me back in. And it would have felt good, I suppose, to have just gone with the flow for a minute. But then I reminded myself of the conscious choice I made as a child, not to