Bette used to speak about my work with glowing pride. Early in our relationship, I had to rein her in a few times when she felt that I was being railroaded by various people in the business. On more than one occasion, I had to remind her that despite my meager appearance at times, I was very capable of handling a douche bag producer or drama-queen actress and getting what I wanted in the end. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated Bette’s desire to protect me, and to defend my honor. It got me hot, and when we finally got back home, I would show her just how hot it got me.

As I watched her handle Jenny so eloquently, I couldn’t help but feel overcome with gratitude. I think this friend thing is going to work between us after all. The way she deflected Jenny’s question about hiring her if she were Dean of the English Department was so genius. I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

When Jenny walked away with her condescending wave, I felt my stomach churn. “Can’t wait.” I said as I tasted my martini once again, hoping that it would relieve the agitated state of my insides.

“It’s incredible.” I heard Bette mutter, with a smile bred from her astonishment at the tenacity of the woman I had been dealing with these last few weeks.

 I could no longer help myself when I turned to her. I reached out and touched her arm softly so that she would look at me.

“Thank you.” I offered with a sweet smile. Little did she know I was thanking her for bringing back that loving feeling again like she had orchestrated the Righteous Brothers’ tune herself. At least the waiter had brought me a refill.

She explained about how she thought it should just be automatic. I knew where that mind set came from. Bette Porter was about the most loyal person I have ever come to know and love. And still love. Love so much, in fact, that I had to tell her in that instant.

“That’s one of the things I love about you.” I said as I watched her sip her own drink.