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night’s game or some other manly chore worth grunting over. That was accepted of course until they were put on commission—then she was called a phone hog.
    “Geez, Reggie. Give us a chance to answer it before you dive on it.”
    Kiss my what?
    When her commissions were the highest from that first month, she was told she had the best seat in the office. It was received as a humiliation rather than the pat on the back her boss intended when he listed everyone’s earnings in the break room. There was a never-ending run of excuses for why she made more. They couldn’t accept that she worked the hardest. According to them, she had the highest sales because she had tits.
    Reggie vowed to take the face off the first person who crossed her that day. Amazingly, everyone was well-behaved. Rumor had it there was a chalkboard hanging in the men’s bathroom with ‘Women to avoid this week’ on it. Reggie hoped she was on it today, but that still wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to be there. After lunch, claiming to have gotten a bad sandwich, she called the office informing them she was going home sick. She also called in on Tuesday.
    By Wednesday, she vowed to pull her head out of her ‘asset.’ She would put on the proverbial big girl panties and continue on with life. Busting a contractor trying to get away without paying for a wheelbarrow full of items was a great start to her day. If only she had the authority to kick him where it counted she would have felt better.
    By noon, Reggie became lightheaded. She hadn’t eaten since her lunch with the rep. Reggie had horrible eating habits to begin with, but when she was upset, they hardly existed at all. Exercise was never part of her daily routine, but she never fought to keep her size-three waist; she simply forgot to eat sometimes. Other times she put away an entire large pizza by herself. It all balanced out in her mind. Today was a pizza day. She ordered six pizzas and notified the ‘will-call’ boys that lunch was on her. There were five guys outside that ran for all the items that she typed up on invoices for the contractors and two that were dedicated to pulling the entire house loads. She was the only one who went out of her way to show appreciation for the ones who did the legwork and heavy lifting. Again, she heard comments from the other salesmen for why the will-call boys really played favorites. It couldn’t be the fifty dollars she spent making sure, once a month, they each had their favorite beer for their tailgate party on Friday or for the spontaneous pizzas. It was surely because, “They’re called boobs, Ed.” Erin Brokovich rocked. She thought about picking the movie up on the way home.
    Sitting with the boys at lunch, she didn’t mind the flirting so much today. She needed to be reminded that someone thought she was pretty. She was paged for a long distance phone call, but asked that a message be taken. It had been Van. Kiss my ass twice. Instead of her smugness making her feel better, she heard his voice in her head. Where and when, doll-face. Where and when?
    On the Pali last Sunday, dick head. She was losing it. Now she was arguing with herself. She needed to get good and drunk.
    “I don’t want to drink until I’m sure I’m not pregnant, hon. Sorry,” was Sabrina’s answer when she called her best friend. “Come over for dinner, though. Troy went this week with the guys. I wanted to call you anyway. Your timing is good. I’m lonely.”
    “You mind if I drink?”
    “Hell no. Plan on sleeping over too so you can really tie one on if you want. It’ll be fun.”
    The girls had a great dinner and Reggie had a few different mixed drinks. Nothing tasted good tonight. I can’t even get drunk right.
    Sabrina clicked the TV off after they finished a rerun of Friends . “So tell me.”
    “Tell you what?”
    “Come on, Reg. How did your date with Van go? I’ve been dying for you to tell me about it. Why so coy?”
    “There’s nothing to