A Stiff Critique Read Free Page A

you mean goofy things like whoopee cushions and joy buzzers?”
    “Not exactly,” I said, wriggling uncomfortably in my wooden chair. “I design and sell specialty items for different professionals—”
    “Items such as shark mugs for attorneys,” Carrie put in, her dark freckled face lighting up in a smile.
    “And shark earrings,” I added.
    “Shark earrings?” Carrie demanded. “I wasn’t aware you were making earrings now. You’ve been holding out on me, girl. I will expect a pair of your best sharks at your earliest convenience.” She lowered her voice and winked. “If not sooner.”
    “I’m doing earrings for all the professionals,” I went on, encouraged by her enthusiasm. “Toothbrushes for dentists, shrunken heads for therapists. That kind of thing. And I’m starting a whole new line of computer-nerd gifts—”
    “Do you really make a living this way?” Slade asked. The sneer in his voice matched the one on his face.
    So much for encouragement. I nodded and broke off another piece of muffin, hoping my face hadn’t turned too red.
    “So, do you make good money?” Nan probed. She leaned forward, her blond pageboy swinging gracefully as she moved.
    “Well, not really good,” I admitted. “After I get through paying manufacturing costs and employee salaries, there isn’t a whole lot left. But it’s enough for me to live on.”
    “You’d better stick to selling real estate,” Slade advised Nan with yet another sneer. I wasn’t sure if that sneer was for me or for Nan.
    “Your business must be incredibly fun,” Donna piped up. She had shreds of white napkin all over her purple blouse, but at least she was smiling instead of sneering. “And creative too. I mean, thinking up designs for all those shark earrings and stuff. You must have a real gift.”
    I stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was teasing, then decided she wasn’t.
    “It is fun—”
    “Are you doing social satire?” Travis asked through a mouthful of food. His brown eyes burned into mine for a long moment.
    “Well…” I hesitated. I had certainly never thought of my business that way before.
    “Of course, she’s doing social satire,” Carrie answered for me. “How can you poke fun at attorneys and not be doing social satire?” She laughed, then said more seriously, “Kate’s also a beginning writer.”
    “So, what sorts of things do you write, Kate?” Mave asked.
    I tried to take a deep breath, but my chest felt too tight. I hated to lie, but I wasn’t willing to admit to writing poems right then and there, either.
    “Kate writes short stories,” Carrie lied for me. My chest loosened. Then she added, “And poetry.”
    Poetry? My pulse began to pound in my ears. Why the hell had she said poetry? I’d told her not to—Then I tried to remember. I knew I’d told her to say I wrote short stories, but had I specifically instructed her not to mention poetry?
    “A poet!” Mave exclaimed before I could remember. “Well, bully for you, Kate. Not enough good poets around these days. How long you been writing?”
    “Not long,” I mumbled, looking down at the food on my plate. It didn’t look delicious to me anymore.
    “‘There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know,’“ she quoted. She closed her eyes and sighed, before adding, “William Cowper.”
    “Oh, great,” I said. I pulled my mouth into a smile in lieu of further follow-up. I had no idea what else to say.
    The silence grew longer. And longer. Strangely enough, it was Slade who finally rescued me.
    “Why does everyone bring vegetarian food?” he demanded. “A man needs red meat, red wine and red-blooded women.” He turned to Mave. “Bet you don’t know who said that,” he challenged her.
    She wrinkled her already wrinkled brow a little further for a moment, then gave up.
    “Who?” she asked.
    “Me,” he announced, then hooted with laughter.
    Nan was the only one who laughed with him. Mave chuckled a little, but