Page 43 of The Triple Threat

I ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah, Ellie, I heard.”

“Your Pop.” She leaned forward and poked me in the chest. “So maybe we should go.”

“Fuck, not this again,” I muttered under my breath. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Sometimes I wonder about you.”

“What does that mean?” It was now my turn to cross my arms over my chest.

Ellie leaned closer to my ear and got on her tippy toes. “We have something we have to do, remember.”

“How the fuck can I forget,” I whispered back.

“What are you two talking about?” Auntie L asked with a starry-eyed smile as she nudged Auntie J. “Is there something you need to tell us.”

“No.” Ellie and I shouted at the same time.

“Oh, that’s a shame, isn’t it, Janice-Ann. I was hoping we might have a little love story going on.”

Ellie took a step back, clutching her t-shirt like she’d just been shot, and I felt stupid for feeling disappointed, yet again, by her reaction. I had no clue what was going on in my head, or why how Ellie felt about me was important all of a sudden.

“Yeah well, we don’t,” I snapped back. “Come on let’s go.”

“But you haven’t finalized your arrangements for Friday night yet?” Auntie L complained.

I heaved out a frustrated breath and pushed the cart past Ellie. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty,” I called over my shoulder. “Be ready.’

The last comment wasn’t necessary, I knew that, but she’d pissed me off.

“Oh Hunter,” Auntie L sighed. “You could have asked her in a more gentlemanly way than that.”

Damn women, who the hell needed them?

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date.” Bronte winked just as she ripped the muslin strip from my vagina.

“Shit.” I winced and blew out a shuddering exhale. “I never get used to that.”

“Maybe if you got your hoo-hah waxed a little more often than twice a year, you wouldn’t feel such pain.” She tsked and shook her head. “Honestly Ellie, I’m ashamed to call you my friend. It’s bad for business when people see my best friend walking around town with pubic hairs showing at the bottom of her shorts.

I rolled my eyes and braced myself as Bronte flattened the strip against the warm wax again.

“Stop exaggerating,” I replied with only the tiniest of gasps. “I’m really neat down there, I just need a tidy up.”

“Yes, because I’m damn good at my job. When I get rid of those hairy little critters, I get rid of them good.” She did one more rip and I swear she pulled harder that time. “Okay you can put your grey granny panties back on now.”

“They’re not granny panties,” I objected as I swung my legs off the bed and onto the floor.

Bronte snorted a laugh, evidently disagreeing. “They’re granny panties, darlin’ believe me.”

As I slipped back into my roomy and comfortable panties, Bronte set to cleaning up her station and threw out all the rubbish, including the pink, latex gloves she’d been wearing. She worked quietly and I felt pretty unnerved. There wasn’t a minute go by where Bronte didn’t have something to say.

“Which cat got your tongue?” I asked. “You’re awful quiet for someone who is desperate to know all the gossip.”

She swung around to face me. “I’m a conscientious worker. I like to be sure everything is clean and tidy.”

I started laughing. “Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” She frowned and went back to her cleaning.