Fresh Meat

“Hey, Katherine,” Charlotte sidles up alongside me. “Have you met the new girls yet?”

“Yeah, briefly. I didn’t catch that one’s name–”

“Beatrice,” Charlotte interrupts.

“Right. And the other one is Chantelle. I met her earlier.”

“And?” Charlotte looks at me expectantly.

“And, she’s dumb as a bag of rocks. She’s only interested in partying, and said some pretty offensive things about us reopening the Saratoga Center next year. And yes, she’s straight,” I add, as Charlotte takes a breath to speak. “She’s here with her husband.”

“Pity. She’s cute,” Charlotte says, staring at her.

I shrug. “Anyways… we are all set for tonight, right? You and Artie are making sure everyone will be there?”

Yes. I told you not to worry,” Charlotte says.

“Here, what do you think of my speech?” I hold out a small pad of paper. Charlotte takes it from me. As she reads it, she clasps a hand to her chest.

“Katherine. This is perfect,” she says.

“I hope so,” I say.

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