Ace Jones: Mad Fat Adventures in Therapy Read Free

certificate,” she says. I get excited, thinking that maybe they’ve chipped in and bought me a pedicure or a massage. Or both! I’m embarrassed by how excited I am, but when I open the envelope, I see that my assumption was incorrect.
    â€œWho is Rosemary Tallis?” Chloe is smiling, Lilly has yet to look up.
    â€œMy therapist,” Chloe whispers. “She’s great. You’ll love her.”
    â€œLilly,” I say, and she finally looks at me. “What is this?”
    â€œWe’re worried about you, Ace.” She looks like she’s about to cry.
Of course
. In addition to being a seasoned professional stalker, Lilly is also a seasoned professional squaller. I look back at Chloe, who has the phoniest smile I’ve ever seen plastered across her pretty face. Chloe has on a dark gray pantsuit with a lavender button-up shirt. Lilly is wearing black leggings with knee boots and a cream-colored sweater with a multi-colored scarf. I’m wearing sweat pants and a hoodie that’s three years old. I didn’t bother to put on makeup. I want to ask them why they chose the Morning Perk to give me a freakin’ gift certificate for a freakin’ therapist, but deep down inside, I know. They knew I wouldn’t make a scene about it here.
    â€œUh, thank you, I guess.” I slip the envelope into my purse.
    â€œI made you an appointment for Monday,” Chloe says. She’s happy now because the gift certificate is in my purse.
    â€œThank you,” I say again. And so this is what an intervention looks like. Nice. Maybe I’ll go lie in the street and hope a dump truck comes through.
    â€œThe gift certificate is good for as many sessions as you need or want,” Chloe says, and Lilly is looking at her cup again.
    â€œOkay,” I say, getting up. “Thank you both so much, but I better run.” They look at me like I’m crazy, and their expressions have new meaning to me now. I hug them both and grab my jacket. We all know I have nowhere to be. I pick up my half empty cup of designer coffee and drop it in the trash on the way out the door. Squinting against the cold, I walk to my car, which is parked between Lilly’s BMW and Chloe’s Lexus. “I love my Maxima,” I mumble to myself as I get in and start the engine. “It’s a great car. And I love my jogging pants.”
    â€œBuster Loo!” I call when I get home. “You wanna go for a walk?” It’s kind of windy out, so I bundle him up in his thickest doggie jacket. I wrap a scarf around my face and look at my dog, who is prancing around in his fancy winter coat. When we get outside, he doesn’t miss a beat. I make it all of two blocks before I have to stop and tell Buster Loo that we have to go home. “It’s too cold, little man.” I say. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He stands there, snout pointed toward the park, and doesn’t budge. “Buster Loo, maybe the sun will come out tomorrow. C’mon, now.” He doesn’t turn around. I tug on the leash and he stiffens up. He stares down the road as if life cannot go on as planned unless we finish our walk. I reach down to pick him up, and he promptly starts running in circles, wrapping the leash around my ankles. I have to unsnap it and when he realizes he’s free, he takes off at top speed toward the park. Luckily, his fluffy jacket puts a damper on his haste. “Buster Loo!” I say as loud as I can without shouting. I don’t need the whole neighborhood involved in this. “Stop!” He doesn’t look back. He’s headed for the walking trail. I have to jog to catch up. “Buster Loo!” I say again and then use my devil voice, “Stop right now.” He stops and looks back at me with those chiweenie eyes of shame. “I’m sorry, Buster Loo.” I say as I scoop him up and snap the leash back to his collar. “It’s