Seems like I can’t go to sleep without the goddamn phone ringing. It’s almost noon, and I can’t remember the last time I slept so late. Without glancing at the caller I.D. box, I answer, murmuring.

It’s Glenn from Contacts, finally. I tell him I can be at the bar for an interview in an hour. My stomach gnaws away, since I haven’t eaten since early yesterday morning. By the time I finished cleaning the kitchen, the only things left were the two pitchers in the fridge.

I did some thinking while I was cleaning the pantry. I place entirely too much time and energy on food. While I was working for Jan, I spent about half my time rolling my eyes in disgust at the excess. Caviar, huge wads of bloody beef, wilted asparagus shipped in during the winter, left to wither on the serving plates. And I wasn’t any better, letting the things in my fridge and pantry go to waste. Never mind that anyone can look at me and tell I’ve not had a starving day in my life. It’s just too difficult. Food doesn’t have to be art. It can just be fuel, and it’s time for me to take that route.

I’m not going to keep food in the house at all. I let too much of it rot, obsess over the preparation of it, eat too much of it. From now on I’m just eating whole foods with a minimum of preparation. Simplified. Easy. My brainpower and money aren’t going to be wasted on it. Besides, being in the kitchen makes me feel guilty.

I dug into the back of my closet for anything that wasn’t standard caterer black and white. It’s been months since I wore anything other than that, or baggy T-shirts and jeans. In the furthest reaches of my closet I found my collection of long, floral-print skirts. I found the bright red one, dotted with little daisies, paired it with one of the few unstained white button-downs, twisted my hair into a French twist, brushed my teeth, and left.

The front door at Contacts was locked, and Glenn didn’t answer until I’d knocked four times. I introduced myself, shook his meaty hand, and followed him inside.

"James tells me you catered weddings," he said as we walked past the pool tables, where murals of Divine and Dr. Frankenfurter watched guard from canvases hung on the exposed red brick wall.

"I did ... for three years." We passed the polished wood bar. I’d never seen it in bright light, and had never noticed the scars and pocks on its surface.

"Have a seat." He motioned to a barstool, lifting himself onto the one beside it. "What made you decide to leave after all that time?"

I considered, not realizing that I was chewing the maroon lipstick off my lower lip. "I wasn’t happy with the route management was taking in directing the business."

"Ahhh, you hated your boss!" My breath caught. "It’s okay. We’ve all had some bad ones here and there. This position is quite independent. I just want you to sell the drinks. How well you do that will make or break you on tips. They covered bartending in your training, right?"

"Sure," I nodded a little too quickly.

"Well, I don’t want you to start on a Saturday, since that would mean throwing you to the sharks. How’s Monday night for you, around eight o’clock?"

"Um, yeah. That’s great. I can do that." I know it’s been a long time since I’ve had a job interview, but I recall them being longer than this.

"Since you’re friends with James I’m assuming you don’t have a problem with gay men, right?"

"Not hardly. I’m used to them."

"Well, good. Wear whatever you want. I’ll see you on Monday." He stood, extending his hand.

"Thanks!" The excitement started bubbling as I shook my new boss’ hand

"Anna! Guess what!" I squealed into the phone. "I got a job!" I’d already called Kara and Elaine. Now that I could count on some money coming in, I didn’t feel so bad about calling Anna long distance.

"That’s great! God, Thalia, so much has happened this week! Ben did not take the break-up well. I did it in his car, in the parking lot after work. He cried like a kindergartener, begged me to not go, and kept telling me what a bitch I am. So I just got out of the car and went back into the bar. He peeled out like a goddamned maniac. So, I was crying, and Gary, this bouncer who’s been flirting with me for a while, was consoling me, and he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride, so I said yes. Thalis, you’ll never believe this." She took a gulp of air. "We had sex in the back of his truck! It was so cool, Thalia. So much better than anything Ben ever did to me. Anyway, that was Monday night..."

And to think that I was always the mouthy one when we were kids, and Anna hardly ever spoke. I don’t know how in the hell she’s breathing at this speed. I’m also not sure she even heard me mention my job. I half-listened as I lit a cigarette, wishing I hadn’t thrown the wine away. My belly grumbled, hoping for food instead of smoke. I mentally told my belly to go to hell.

"...And as I was leaving, Mark told me that he always thought I was really hot, and he’d heard that Ben and I broke up. I mean, I’ve been buying cappucinos there every day for a year and I never thought he paid attention to me. Anyway, we went to this awesome club that night where we can play volleyball in a roomful of foam, like shaving cream. I went home with him and since he doesn’t have any furniture, we had sex on his floor. Doesn’t that just rock, Thalia?"

"What night was this?"

"It was Thursday."

"You fucked two guys in less than a week..." I think I called the wrong number. Yeah, I got the wrong woman named Anna.

"I did! Oh, Thalia, I don’t know why I didn’t try this before! This is so great! Now I know why you are always so happy. I want you to teach me to be bad, Thalia."

I was lightening my second cigarette off the first. "What did you say you want me to do? Teach you to be bad?"

"Yeah! You always do exactly what you want, fuck everything else. You live your life on your terms."

"And this makes me bad?"

Anna didn’t even pause. "I’ve been listening to my parents piss and moan about all the money they lost on this wedding. I know it’s just because they want me to move out of their house. Anyway, teach me how to not care about shit like that. I can’t even smoke around them. I have to do it in my car."

"Since when do you smoke?"

"Since this week. Anyway, I’ve still got the weekend of the wedding off. I bought a ticket and I’m coming to see you!"

"Really? Well, cool." I stubbed out my cigarette and laid it down. Anna was making me tired. I think we hung up before I drifted off to sleep, but I’m not sure. And if I did fall asleep on the phone, I’m pretty sure Anna didn’t notice.