Something to Talk About Read Online Free PDF Page A

Oh, mercy, the poor child had been caught. Em was just about to explain that when Angry Man bellowed into her ear again, “Who the hell are you?”
    Sucking her cheeks in and giving her invisible caller the stern-teacher tone, she responded with crisp coolness, “This is Emmaline Amos, general manager of Call Girls—”
    “How dare you allow a little girl of six—she’s six, do you hear me—talk to one of your operators?” he growled. “Don’t you have some kind of security that prevents this sort of thing from happening? What kind of business are you running there?”
    Em’s tipsy state flew away on wings of outrage. How dare he accuse Call Girls of lax security? Clearly there’d been some mistake, but the quick decision to shoot him down for being so incredibly rude outweighed the notion he might someday be a future client she needed to reassure.
    She clamped a hand on her hip. “Excuse me, sir—we’re running a very reputable business with plenty of security, I’ll thank you kindly to remember! Your little girl found our phone number on, according to her, your desk . So, in the future, when you take it upon yourself to seek solace with a woman who is not your intended or otherwise, I highly recommend you don’t leave such things lyin’ about in a place an innocent child of six can find!” Em slammed down the phone with a huff, infuriated their above-standards security measures had been called into question.
    As she fought for breath, so incensed she wanted to hurl every item off Dixie’s desk and slam it against the wall, Dixie, Marybell and LaDawn all stood, still rooted to their spots in quiet mode, waiting, watching.
    Cat stirred, eliciting a small snore.
    Em’s lips thinned, her fingers clutching the back of her chair, her knuckles white from the effort. “I will not have our security questioned by some man who can’t keep track of his adorable little girl and her penchant for girlfriend shopping. Will not!”
    LaDawn was the first to approach her, though it was hesitant. “I’m afraid a’ you, sugarlove.”
    Marybell nodded numbly and raised her hand, her bangle bracelets jingling and sliding into place at the bend in her forearm. “Me...too.”
    Dixie’s mouth was slightly open, her brow creased. “Wow. You were on fire. See what we mean about the fire breathing?”
    If there was one thing Em had in her life besides her boys, it was her job. One she took incredibly seriously. “I take great pride in making sure everything runs smoothly here at Call Girls—especially the phones. How dare he outright declare we would have allowed something like that!”
    LaDawn came up behind her and massaged her shoulders with nimble hands, breathing a sigh of a giggle. “Okay, Rocky. It’s over now, and you set him right. Why don’t you grab your chicken breasts? I think it’s time we all head on home and get a good night’s rest. You fought the good fight. You should take a break between matches.”
    As her wits gathered, Em couldn’t help but replay the sweet voice in her head, wanting a girlfriend for her daddy so he wouldn’t be so cranky. There had been a hint of sadness, the wish to make everything better for her father that in a six-year-old’s mind meant snuggles and kisses and a girlfriend you bought at the girlfriend store.
    The spike of anger she’d rolled with when she’d spoken to that arrogant jackass of a man dissipated in a puff, leaving her with a combination adrenaline/alcohol-related pounder of a headache, and a sad ache in her heart that a sweet little girl wanted her father to have a girlfriend.
    This was what she got for thinking she was ever going to be capable of simulating sexual acts with LaDawn’s special spatula and a chair.
    Oh, libation, what have you done?
    * * *
    The hard drop of a hammer on metal had Em gritting her teeth and wincing with pain. No more girls’ night—not ever. At least not when it factored in swirly orange drinks accompanied by chicken cutlet