going on in my subconscious?”
“Not exactly. You simply relay your dreams to her and she analyzes them, and then compiles the data for her thesis.”
“Using a bunch of psychobabble.” He snorted. “That is so not going to happen.”
She shrugged again, the stubborn glint in her eye all too familiar. She meant business.
“What if I find someone else?”
“Nope. You’re perfect for the study. You can fall asleep in a heartbeat and you’re good at recalling your dreams. Besides, she needs someone yesterday.”
“Oh, man.” He abandoned the pot and sat at the kitchen table. “I can’t just drop everything for the next two weeks.”
She laughed. “Like what? Playing tennis, or maybe having dinner with your girlfriend du jour?”
He sighed with disgust.
“Like I said, suit yourself.”
“How many hours a day does this thing take?”
“You’ll have to talk to Emma about that.”
He narrowed his gaze in suspicion. “You aren’t trying to fix me up with her, are you?”
“Oh, God no. Emma’s much too good for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Just let me know if I should call and tell her to expect you.”
“You realize this is blackmail.”
Brenda smiled. “I call it a trade.”
He got up, muttering a few choice words as he headed out of the kitchen.
“What about dinner?”
“I don’t have time. Call your friend. Tell her she’s got a new sucker.”
Brenda waited until he was out of sight and then pumped her hand in the air. “Yes!”
She did a little victory dance around the kitchen table, and then headed for the Mickey Mouse phone Nick had given her last Christmas.
This was just perfect.
EMMA SNOW STRAIGHTENED HER BACK, squared her shoulders and looked Jake straight in the eyes. “Would you like to go to Dean Sutter’s reception next month? Um, that is, with me?”
Jake looked back blankly.
“Wait, let me try that again.” She flipped back her ponytail, and cleared her throat. “Next week Dean Sutter is having his annual reception for the students who are completing the graduate program. If you aren’t doing anything…what I mean is…would you like to go with me? As my date. Well, not really a date of course…just someone to sit with at dinner.”
Jake stared at her a moment longer, yawned and then walked away, clearly unimpressed.
She glared at his retreating back. “Thanks, you ingrate. See if I bring home any more kibble.”
He didn’t even turn around. Instead he gave her “the tail.” She was fairly certain it was the feline version of flipping her off. The persnickety tabby often turned and stiffened his tail when he was displeased about something.
“I heard they’re serving salmon for dinner,” she called after him, but he ignored her and disappeared down the hall.
Emma sighed. She didn’t know why she was going through this futile exercise anyway. If she didn’t complete her thesis, she wouldn’t be going to the reception. Which meant she’d be stuck in school for another several months, assuming Professor Peters’s patience didn’t run out. Or her funds did. Both were serious contenders to screwing up her degree.
God, she had to be the oldest graduate student in history. She sank onto the edge of her bed and dropped back onto the mattress and stared at the chipped ceiling. Of course that wasn’t true—many people returned to school after raising families or whatever, but it felt as though she’d been in the graduate program forever, lagging behind because money had run out, or her job as a teaching assistant required too much time, or her mother was calling her back home to Utah for some ridiculous reason.
Emma fell for it every time, no matter how flimsy her mom’s new excuse. Guilt would start gnawing at her for not having been the perfect child her parents had dreamed of having, and she’d drop everything to go be her mother’s crutch. Usually even without her mom’s subtle reminders of how much she’d sacrificed to work with Emma, the years she’d spent helping her learn to read so she could be a “normal” child.
She blocked the destructive thoughts from her mind. Her energy was much better spent finding a new subject for the final phase of her thesis, not that she honestly had much hope. It had taken her best Bob Seger CD, a nerve-wracking dinner with the lascivious Martin Stanley, and a promise to clean Norman Cove’s apartment for two months to secure the last three male subjects.
She sighed. Now that Norman had backed out, at least she didn’t have to scrape together a few hours a week to do his cleaning. Time was becoming more of an issue. As it was she didn’t know how she could continue to volunteer at the animal shelter.
She loved working with the strays. It was a way of giving back for the kindness her elderly neighbor had shown her when she herself had been a kind of stray, roaming the neighborhood after school when she’d felt unwelcome in her own home.
There was a bright side. Not having to clean Norm’s apartment would allow her time to work an extra shift at the pub. Or more time for her thesis.
If she still had a shot.
She was so screwed.
The phone rang, and Emma leaped off the bed, foolishly hoping someone was answering her new ad from the library bulletin board.
“It’s Brenda,” her friend said before Emma finished getting out her hello. “How you doing, kiddo?”
“Better than roadkill.”
“That good, huh?”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” She carried the phone back to the bed and flopped down. “I am so pissed at Norm I could strangle him.”
“Why did he bail?”
“He claims he’s flunking chemistry and he has to use the time to study more.” Emma snorted. “Flunking my butt. I got a glimpse of his new lab partner.”
“What a jerk! He’s a whiz at chemistry. Did he actually think you’d buy that excuse?”
“Hard to believe he beat a million other sperm to the finish, isn’t it?”
Brenda laughed.
Emma joined her, and then sighed. “Men. If they put one on the moon, they ought to be able to put them all there.”
“No argument from me.” Brenda hesitated. “This
