During one of her cleaning-up sprees, of which she’d had many since becoming unemployed, she had found the dildos and harnesses they used to fuck each other with, and had been appalled by the state of them.
“It’s silicone,” Sheryl had said. “Just pop them in the dishwasher and they’ll be good as new.”
Kristin had stood there with her hands on her hips. “There’s no way I’m using these ever again. They’ve become unusable by not using them.” She’d wrinkled up her nose.
Sheryl had quickly sussed out the real reason for Kristin’s indignation and agreed to go shopping for a set of new ones.
Sheryl hadn’t entered a sex shop in a decade. The products on offer seemed to have multiplied.
This, however, didn’t seem to deter Kristin at all. She went straight for the display in the back, Sheryl following her, picked out two that looked almost exactly the same as the ones she had binned a few weeks prior, cast a furtive glance at the vibrators, seemed to decide against them, and—as though time had suddenly become of the essence—without consulting Sheryl very much at all, headed to the register.
When they stood outside, Sheryl grabbed her by the hand and asked, “Why the sudden hurry?”
“Something has come up,” Kristin said. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“You’re probably going to think I’m crazy,” Kristin said.
“There’s also a good chance I won’t,” Sheryl replied.
“Wait until you’ve heard what I have to say.” They were drinking coffee in the living room, the plastic bag with the toys they’d bought discarded somewhere in the kitchen.
“I’m all ears.” Sheryl sank back onto the sofa. She looked a million times better than this morning, when Kristin had practically had to drag her out of bed.
“I had this idea and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Sheryl sported a hint of smile.
“I need something to do. Something I can be passionate about. Something of my own.”
“I’m in triple agreement.”
“How about opening a coffee shop?”
Sheryl’s eyes grew wide. She sat up a bit straighter.
Kristin didn’t give her a chance to counter-argue. “You said so yourself earlier. There’s money to be made with coffee.”
Sheryl leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees.
“Obviously I haven’t yet thought this through. I haven’t done any of the math. I’ll need a business plan.”
“You’ll need much more than a business plan.”
Kristin shook her head. “No. It’s all I need, along with the support of my partner.”
“You always have my support.” Sheryl looked at the carpet when she said it.
“I can’t go on moping around the house all day doing nothing. I don’t much feel like joining the corporate world again. And today, as we sat there in that coffee shop, in that amazingly vibrant neighborhood, the thought came to me. And why not? What have I got to lose?”
“Apart from a bunch of money?” Sheryl looked up.
“Money is just money. We have plenty of it in the bank. Enough for me not to have to work for another five years at least. What if I did something else with it?”
“I did see a twinkle in your eye.”
“It was more than a twinkle, babe. It was an epiphany.”
“Looks like you’ll have to pitch me the idea then. Once you have it all worked out on paper.”
“You know I will. You know you won’t be able to resist my finely honed pitching skills and wizardry with numbers. You’re basically a lost cause already.”
“Don’t just pitch me the business behind it. I’m more interested in the lifestyle that comes with it. I don’t think either one of us wants you to go back to working the insane hours you did for almost twenty years.”
“That’s the beauty of being your own boss: hiring employees.”
Sheryl’s face didn’t look immediately dismissive.
“Just dream with me here for a second. A place of our own, decorated exactly how we want it, making a couple of dollars margin on every cup of coffee we sell.”
“Hiring young and nimble baristas,” Sheryl joked.
Kristin gave Sheryl a look, then remembered what had brought up this line of conversation in the first place. The toys they had bought, now forgotten in the kitchen—the last place they should be.
She looked at Sheryl again, with different eyes this time. The fresh air, the walk, and the coffee must have done her a world of good, because she looked like herself again, as opposed to the pale, stiff-limbed woman Kristin had roused from bed that morning. She looked like the woman Kristin had wanted to drag to that sex shop. A glint in her eyes. The shadows under them all but evaporated, and what was left of them lending her a slightly dangerous edge. One Kristin hadn’t taken advantage of in a long time.