The blonde woman was telling the man she would sleep with him, but not give him her heart.
Shouldn’t she be addressing them by name, given she watches it rather consistently?
/hands her a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide/ Being a blonde is no longer an unreachable goal.
She sighed in envy.
That was what Lois wanted:
She would sell her body to help him?
She would never love that deeply.
Never find a man she could love like that.
Never find a man to love her like that.
What about Chuck?
Chuck, or whatever his name was – had stolen from her.
Oh dear!
Okay, it was a story she hadn’t wanted to write, when she had Platt’s papers and then possible, now definite, Messenger sabotage story to focus on.
Which would all be beside the point. Her story. Her territory.
Like she would ever admit to such a fact. Not that it was a fact. It wasn’t.
Uh-huh.
Kent? What was this guy’s name? How many names did he have, anyway?
Only one. Well, two. But it’s up to her not to confuse them.
He better not steal Jimmy away from her too.
“Who?” she asked and then she realized he meant the new guy who had just walked out of his office.
She really does have selective perception, doesn’t she? Sure thing, she’s no Sherlock Holmes to Jimmy’s Watson.
“He asked me out,” she explained.
Which would interest Perry why?
“Or really stupid. I’m sure once he gets to know you, that won’t happen again.”
Michael
