program.”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to help, but I don’t have the time right now to devote to someone. You deserve a mentor who has the time to give you what you need.” Like some serious therapy . “Besides, you were pretty clear that you weren’t looking for a mentor.” I would have liked to cut a more intimidating figure, but it’s hard to look together when you’re in a pantyhose bear trap.
“Fair enough. The thing is, my social worker told me I pretty much have to do the program, so I had this idea. I don’t need a mentor, but I could be your mentor. Princess Diana was known for her charitable work and I’m sure there’s stuff you need help with, so you could be like my project.” She looked over at me. “Well, like our project.”
“You realize of course that Princess Diana is dead,” I said in the hope of startling her back into reality.
“Wow. Don’t feel like you have hold back on what you think.” She wrinkled her nose and shifted on the couch. “It reminds me of your radio show today, that woman called in who’s sleeping with a married man. As you can imagine, given the Camilla situation, it’s a topic on which Diana and I have a strong opinion. You should have come out much stronger against it. Dating married guys? Bad plan,” she said, tucking her blond hair behind one ear.
My eyes narrowed as I looked at her, and I felt the tension in my stomach unknot as it came to me. I bent down and yanked the pantyhose off.
“Okay, now it’s making sense. Who put you up to this? Colin?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll admit you had me going, but you can let it go now.” I tossed the crumpled ball to the floor. I sincerely hoped there wasn’t a video camera involved in this prank. All I needed were shots of me yanking my skirt up being passed around the office. I had no idea what Colin was thinking involving this kid in one of his pranks. I couldn’t tell who was crazier, him or her. I would have thought it was beneath even him to involve kids.
“I’m not joking.” Diana drew herself up straight. “I would think you would feel lucky. Not everyone has a personal connection to Princess Diana. It’s sort of a big deal.”
“You’re nuts,” I told her.
“The tabloids tried to make out that Diana was crazy, but I can tell you, both of us are one hundred percent sane.”
That’s when it occurred to me: she might really be crazy. Not just odd or quirky, but full-blown crazy, the kind of crazy where your sweater’s sleeves tie behind your back. Granted, she didn’t have that homeless wacky lady look, she looked more like a shy teenager, but she did break into my apartment and was under the delusion she was channeling the spirit of Princess Diana. She could have heard me on the radio today and decided I was one of the voices in her head. You see Lifetime Movies of the Week with this kind of plot all the time. Next thing you know she could have me chopped up and start hiding my body parts in various Dumpsters around town.
“I think you need to leave,” I said. “It’s not appropriate for you to be here.”
She turned and put a hand on her hip with one eyebrow raised.
“You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? I need you to get my social worker off my back, and in exchange there’s all kinds of stuff I can do to help you.” She stood up quickly and I backed away. “Want to go through your closet? I can give you all sorts of advice. Fashion is kinda one of my things.”
“Okay, that’s it. You need to leave right now. If you don’t leave I’m calling the cops.” I grabbed the phone off the table and held a finger poised over the dial pad in what I hoped was a threatening way.
“Look, I’ve got to stay in the program so there has to be a way for us to work it out. I really can help. You dress all wrong for your body. Your clothes chop you up.”
“I didn’t ask you for
“It isn’t that I don’t want to help, but I don’t have the time right now to devote to someone. You deserve a mentor who has the time to give you what you need.” Like some serious therapy . “Besides, you were pretty clear that you weren’t looking for a mentor.” I would have liked to cut a more intimidating figure, but it’s hard to look together when you’re in a pantyhose bear trap.
“Fair enough. The thing is, my social worker told me I pretty much have to do the program, so I had this idea. I don’t need a mentor, but I could be your mentor. Princess Diana was known for her charitable work and I’m sure there’s stuff you need help with, so you could be like my project.” She looked over at me. “Well, like our project.”
“You realize of course that Princess Diana is dead,” I said in the hope of startling her back into reality.
“Wow. Don’t feel like you have hold back on what you think.” She wrinkled her nose and shifted on the couch. “It reminds me of your radio show today, that woman called in who’s sleeping with a married man. As you can imagine, given the Camilla situation, it’s a topic on which Diana and I have a strong opinion. You should have come out much stronger against it. Dating married guys? Bad plan,” she said, tucking her blond hair behind one ear.
My eyes narrowed as I looked at her, and I felt the tension in my stomach unknot as it came to me. I bent down and yanked the pantyhose off.
“Okay, now it’s making sense. Who put you up to this? Colin?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll admit you had me going, but you can let it go now.” I tossed the crumpled ball to the floor. I sincerely hoped there wasn’t a video camera involved in this prank. All I needed were shots of me yanking my skirt up being passed around the office. I had no idea what Colin was thinking involving this kid in one of his pranks. I couldn’t tell who was crazier, him or her. I would have thought it was beneath even him to involve kids.
“I’m not joking.” Diana drew herself up straight. “I would think you would feel lucky. Not everyone has a personal connection to Princess Diana. It’s sort of a big deal.”
“You’re nuts,” I told her.
“The tabloids tried to make out that Diana was crazy, but I can tell you, both of us are one hundred percent sane.”
That’s when it occurred to me: she might really be crazy. Not just odd or quirky, but full-blown crazy, the kind of crazy where your sweater’s sleeves tie behind your back. Granted, she didn’t have that homeless wacky lady look, she looked more like a shy teenager, but she did break into my apartment and was under the delusion she was channeling the spirit of Princess Diana. She could have heard me on the radio today and decided I was one of the voices in her head. You see Lifetime Movies of the Week with this kind of plot all the time. Next thing you know she could have me chopped up and start hiding my body parts in various Dumpsters around town.
“I think you need to leave,” I said. “It’s not appropriate for you to be here.”
She turned and put a hand on her hip with one eyebrow raised.
“You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? I need you to get my social worker off my back, and in exchange there’s all kinds of stuff I can do to help you.” She stood up quickly and I backed away. “Want to go through your closet? I can give you all sorts of advice. Fashion is kinda one of my things.”
“Okay, that’s it. You need to leave right now. If you don’t leave I’m calling the cops.” I grabbed the phone off the table and held a finger poised over the dial pad in what I hoped was a threatening way.
“Look, I’ve got to stay in the program so there has to be a way for us to work it out. I really can help. You dress all wrong for your body. Your clothes chop you up.”
“I didn’t ask you for
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