by Jordan Cooke
“Yeah, I kinda heard.” Corliss didn’t know what else to say.
“Oh, well,” said Anushka, finally turning to face Corliss. “Dems da breaks. In life and Hollywood.”
“You tried to be good, Anushka, I know you did.”
“Thanks, Cor. I really did! So it’s you and me now. Two unemployed outsiders. Least I don’t feel so alone.”
“Well,” said Corliss, sitting next to Anushka. “Max offered me my job back—with a salary. Apologized for being psycho and everything.”
“Oh,” said Anushka wistfully, “that’s great, Cor. You deserve that. Seriously.”
Corliss could tell Anushka was being brave. “I didn’t say yes right away. I told him I’d think about it.”
“Don’t be stupid, Cor. It’s a great gig.”
“Maybe. We’ll see. It would only be until it’s time to start college in the fall.” Corliss could see people coming onto the patio for evening cocktails. Without fail, all of them looked over to check out Anushka. “What do you think you’ll do?”
Anushka sighed heavily. “Did you see how my boobers puff up when I do that?”
Corliss laughed. At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humor—or healthy ego.
“Listen, Cor, in all seriousness, when I was lying here, I was thinking about stuff you said about psychology and, like, whatever, how it’s helped you with insight into people, right?”
“Yeah?” Corliss didn’t know where Anushka was going with this.
“So I was thinking: That’s cool. Maybe I should go back to school and study it. Is that weird?”
“You? In school?” Corliss couldn’t picture it.
“Don’t look so amazed. I did two semesters at Pomona Tech Online after Suburban Magic ended.”
“No, it’s not weird, it’s just—”
“Just what?” said Anuhska, who all of a sudden looked like a little girl. “Your opinion means a lot to me, Cor. And lots of girls my age in the biz have done it—and then people take them more seriously. Believe it or not, that’s what I want. Of course, I also want to be Orlando Bloom’s sex slave, but there’s time for that, right?”
Corliss had to laugh. “I think it’s a great idea, Anushka. And I’ll help you.”
“You will?”
“Of course! I’ve got a pile of psychology books at Uncle Ross’s. They’re highlighted and everything. Want to come over? We can have the staff make something yummy and scare Uncle Ross by talking about female things.”
“Sounds like a party!”
“Great. Come on.”
“I’ve got another plan, too,” Anushka said, standing and turning around so that all the people having cocktails on the patio could ogle her bod.
“Good for you, Anushka. I’m liking this new proactive thing. What’s the other plan?”
“To stay friends. You and me. Is that too effin corny?”
Corliss’s heart melted. “Nope, not at all. Just do me one favor.”
“Name it.”
Corliss shook her head at the sheer perfection of Anushka’s body. “Never let me be seen standing next to you when I’m wearing a bathing suit.”
“How could you compete, right?” Anushka winked and threw her arm around Corliss.
“Precisely!”
“It’s a deal. Come on, let’s see if Lorenzo can whip up one of his ‘concoctions’ for us before we hit the road.”
“Anushka…” Corliss said, shaking a finger at her.
“What?” Anushka said, trying to look innocent. “It’s just ginseng and peach pulp, I swear! Okay, and the tiniest bit of Stoli.”
“You are impossible!”
“Yeah, but you kinda like that about me, right?”
Corliss couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell him to skip the Stoli.”
As they moved into the hotel, Corliss felt passersby staring at her, wondering who she was and what her relationship to Anushka was. They probably think I work for her, Corliss thought. Or maybe that I’m some kind of hanger-on. On the one hand, Corliss wanted them all to know the truth. On the other, she knew that what genuinely mattered was that she knew it herself.
They can think what they want about me…Anushka and I are honest-to-goodness friends. I know the real Anushka—the one who’s emotionally scarred by years of smelling like pastrami. And she knows the real me—the one with latent aspirations toward a career in television. If that’s not true friendship, I don’t know what is.
Corliss smiled and waved to the crowd just like Anushka was doing. Nope, she thought. I don’t think I’ll be going back to Indiana-no-place anytime soon.
