“Yeah. Fine. Thanks. How was the game? You probably had more fun with David anyway…”

“Game sucked. Our defense was shit last night.”

Tina inched the top desk drawer open just a fraction, just enough to see a sliver of the note, the bottom half of Bette’s sure, sexy signature.

“You’re still in for tonight right?” Eric hurried on to the next topic he felt like discussing. “A cute blonde always makes dinner with the boss go down a little smoother.”

Tina knew Eric was throwing a wink out with this statement, even alone in his office.

In the mental tumult of the past 24 hours, Tina had almost forgotten their plan. But there it was, on her Outlook Calendar. She read from her notes.

“Of course. 7 o’clock at Satsu.”

“Excellent. Meet you there?”

“Yeah,” Tina answered vaguely, her mind elsewhere. She had slid the drawer open further, and was now running her finger over the swooping loops of Bette’s “B”.

“Then back to my place after…”Eric continued.

Tina took the card out of the drawer, and traced over Bette’s name one last, longing time. She sat up straighter, suddenly sure of herself.

“Sure Eric, ok. But after dinner?”

“Yeah babe?”

“We have to talk.”

“Whatever you want babe, whatever you want.” Eric spoke quickly, clearly distracted. “I got another call. See you at seven.”

Tina hung up the phone, then immediately picked up her cell and dialed before she lost her nerve.

*
Bette was standing in the empty living room of her new house, admiring the late morning sunlight streaming through the space, mentally running through a catalog of her favorite prints, wondering what to hang first and where.

Her phone rang, the sound bouncing off of bare walls. Bette answered quickly, assuming it was her lawyer calling to sort out some loose end after the closing earlier that morning.

“Hello”

“Hi, Bette. It’s…”

“Tina.” Bette smiled. She had been expecting a call, but not this soon. She strode toward the sliding glass door that led out onto the patio and passed through to the back yard. “I’m glad you called.”

Bette perched gingerly on one of the weathered deck chairs that had been left by the previous owner, cautious not to catch the delicate fabric of her suit.