Seeking Single Male. Stephanie Bond

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      Oh well, at least she’d be spared Annette’s monologue about her ongoing manhunt. The girl was convinced her life was incomplete without the perfect man, and she never ran out of inventive ways to extend her search. Lana, on the other hand, had already found the perfect man. His name was Harry and his maintenance consisted of an occasional puff of air into the valve on the top of his rubber head. Harry never questioned her decisions, never wrestled for the remote, never criticized her hairstyle or clothing.

      On the other hand, the only release Harry’s anatomically correct body offered her was an occasional burst of laughter.

      The bell on the door rang, and Lana straightened automatically until she recognized her friend Alexandria Stillman. “Oh, it’s only you.”

      Alexandria glided toward the counter, sleek and catlike in a cobalt designer suit from her family’s upscale department store across town. “Nice to see you, too.”

      Lana waved off Alex’s comment and rubbed her aching pouring arm. “You know what I mean.”

      “Business is good, huh?”

      Lana surveyed the space she’d come to love so fiercely, from the ancient brick walls to the whorled wood floors, to the slightly sagging stage where talented and not-so-talented hopefuls put their pride on the line during open-mike nights. A far cry from the claustrophobic accounting office where she’d spent seven years of her life after college—holy humdrum.

      “I can’t complain,” Lana said with a satisfied sigh, pouring a mug of the almond-flavored coffee Alex liked. “Do you have time to visit for a while?”

      “That’s why I came.” Alex took the proffered cup.

      Lana quirked an eyebrow. “Is Jack out of town?”

      A blush stained Alex’s cheeks. “Have I been neglecting you? I’m sorry.”

      “Since you’ve never looked better, Mrs. Stillman, I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

      “Marriage does seem to agree with me,” her friend gushed uncharacteristically. At least, the gushing had been uncharacteristic before she’d been swept off her feet by “Jack the Attack” Stillman.

      “Yeah, yeah,” Lana said with a grin. “Just don’t turn into one of those marriage evangelists, okay?”

      “I can’t promise anything. Hey, do you have plans for Christmas Eve?”

      A smile claimed her lips that for once, Alex didn’t have to share her family for yet another holiday. “As a matter of fact, Janet is coming up.”

      “Great. I’m sure you and your mother will have a good time. If your plans change, though, you’re welcome to come to Dad’s.”

      Lana didn’t respond. Maybe Janet had been a little unreliable in the past, but she’d come. She would.

      Alex sipped the coffee and murmured her approval. “Nice hat, by the way.”

      Lana flicked the fuzzy ball at the end of the floppy red Santa hat. “Thanks. I wanted to go for the elf shoes, too, but my crew threatened to quit.”

      “Speaking of crew, where’s Annette?”

      “She sprained her ankle this morning, and I didn’t want her to have to stand on it all day.”

      Alex tilted her head. “You look exhausted. Maybe you should sell yourself a cup of your energy blend.”

      “I’m not that desperate yet,” Lana said, laughing. She pulled a bag of Earl Grey tea from beneath the counter and dropped it into a mug, then added steaming water from a dispenser. Janet, a bona fide Anglophile, had introduced her to tea as a youngster, and to tea she remained loyal.

      “I guess I’m just stressed out over this roommate situation,” Lana said. “I’m glad to be rid of Vile Vicki, but I can’t afford to keep paying the entire rent much longer.” Not and cover the lease on the coffee shop space, and the short-term note for new equipment, and the payments for the additional cash registers, refrigerator and pastry case.

      “If you need a loan—”

      Lana cut off her friend with a look. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.” If she could squeak by for another year, she’d be able to pocket some of the profits instead of sinking all the money back into the business.

      Alex relented with a nod. “Any responses from your roommate ads?”

      They claimed a small square table painted with a redand-black gameboard. Lana sat back in a padded chair and shook her head. “A couple dozen oddballs I wouldn’t even consider.”

      “Oh, that’s rich—you calling someone an oddball.”

      Lana pulled a face, then reached behind her to retrieve the magazine that lay discarded on a table. “I let Annette talk me into placing an ad, so maybe I’ll hear something before Christmas, although it’s a lousy time of the year to be looking for a roommate.”

      Alex leaned forward when Lana pointed out her ad:

      Lexington, KY: SF seeking roommate, F or GM, nonsmoker, preferably sane and willing to share kitchen duties.

      “GM?” her friend asked.

      “Gay male,” Lana said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want some straight guy getting the wrong idea about the sleeping arrangements.”

      “Oh, I don’t know,” Alex teased, tapping her finger on the singles ads on the next page. “Maybe you should’ve placed a combination ad and killed two birds with one stone.”

      “Oh, please. Don’t start.”

      “You were the one hounding me to get a man before I met Jack.”

      “That was before I bought the coffee shop. Now I don’t have time for scratch-off lottery tickets, much less a man.”

      “Are the ads national?”

      “Yep.”

      “Well, you should be able to find a roommate over the entire country,” Alex agreed, grinning over the brim of her cup.

      Lana frowned. “Are you saying that I’m too picky?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Well, do you blame me, after living with that witch for so long?”

      Alex blew onto the surface of her drink. “I’m just wondering how much of the animosity for your former roommate had to do with the fact that she went out with the only man you ever cared about.”

      Ignoring the flash of pain that the memory of Bill Friar conjured up, Lana wagged her finger. “Thought I cared about. Bill Friar is a low-life cheat who was threatened by a woman smarter than he is.” She’d trusted him, the cad. Lately she’d been pondering whether the problem was that she was too trusting of the people she cared about, or perversely drawn to untrustworthy people—excluding Alex, of course.

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