Whiplash

“Hey there, Andi,” Walter said to her breasts.  Scooting back from the breakfast table, he stood up, dwarfing her petite mother who stood there giving Andi a my-god-you-are-braless glare.  As tiny as she was, Daisy Cooper could be intimidating, but Andi stood her ground, defiantly not crossing her arms over her braless boobs even though she really wanted to.  How was she to know that her mom would be pushing Walter on her at breakfast, for goodness sake?  Geez, couldn’t a girl get a cup of coffee, first?

“Hi, Walter,” Andi said, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She wished she had the nerve to giggle her breasts a bit, just to watch him come undone.  Turning to her mother, Andi said with forced sweetness, “Mom, I didn’t know Walter was coming for breakfast.”

“I wasn’t going to, but your mama insisted when she found out that all I had to eat this mornin’ was a bowl of Fruit Loops.” 

“A boy needs more than Fruit Loops, for goodness sake,” Daisy said defensively.  “Don’t you agree, Andi?”

Walter was shifting his stance from one booted foot to the other, looking a bit uncomfortable.  “I think I had better get on out to the fields,” he said in his quiet way, drawing a protest from Daisy.

Andi suddenly felt a little rotten.  Walter was a nice guy and it wouldn’t kill her to have breakfast with him.  Besides, the scrambled eggs, strips of bacon, and golden biscuits were calling her name.  “Oh, stay for a another cup of coffee,” Andi offered, motioning towards the table with a swing of her arm, forgetting that his would cause major breast bobble.

Walter’s eye blinked rapidly and Daisy made a strangled coughing sound.  Oh no.  At this point Andi really wanted to salvage the situation, and said the first thing that entered her mind, a really bad habit of hers.  “Oh, stay Walter.  I don’t know about you, but I could eat a horse.”

If possible, Walter blinked even more rapidly.  Now, the comment was a common enough one, but in her tight T-shirt, and freewheeling breasts, it somehow sounded, well, sex related.  The statement sort of hung in the air, and no one was seemed really sure of how to answer.

Recovering from a faux pas wasn’t exactly one of Andi’s strong points, either.  She usually managed to dig herself in deeper and did so now, in rapid fashion.  “Uh, not a horse, horses are soo big.  Maybe a cow.  Ewe, no, maybe I could eat a…” She was saved from further farm animal examples when her cell phone, hooked on her pants, started playing a tinny version of “When the Saints Go Marching In”.  Raising her index finger in the air, Andi said, “Uh, excuse me.”

Andi took the call out on the front porch, willing to talk to just about anyone in order to get away from Walter, her mother, and the whole eating a horse thing.  “Hello?”

“Hi, Andi, this is Janelle Portwood, of “Living Large Magazine.”

Andi’s heart picked up speed as she sat down on the front porch steps.  Janelle was editor-in-chief and Andi had wanted to do a piece for “Living Large” for a long time.  “Hi, Janelle.  What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got an incredible assignment for you.  A cover story.”

Andi’s heart pumped harder.

“We’re going to do a huge spread on Wild Ride Resort and we want you to write the article.”

Her heart sank.

“Andi?  I know, I know, you must be speechless.  Now, get a load of this.  The resort, of course, is booked solid, so Oliver Maxwell is going to put you up in his very own penthouse apartment overlooking the island.  I’ve heard it is spectacular.”

Andi closed her eyes and shook her head sadly.

“Andi?  Recover, girl.  Hey, I don’t care if you scream for joy.”

Andi wanted to scream, all right, but in frustration.  She forced the next words past her lips.  “I can’t do the story, Janelle.”

“What?  You’re kidding, right?”

After taking a deep breath, Andi explained, “I hate the place.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Yes, when it was called Crystal Island and owned by Graystone Cruise Lines.  Janelle, the island was a pristine treasure that Oliver Maxwell, in my opinion, ruined.  The thought of one of his roller coasters marring the beauty of the island makes me sick.  I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.  The Club Med meets Coney Island concept just turns me off.”

“Oliver Maxwell wants you and made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t settle for anyone else.  He thinks you’re the best travel writer going.”  Janelle’s compliment had a bit of an edge to it. 

Andi really hated to burn this bridge, but felt compelled to be up front.  “Janelle, you know I tell it like it is in the articles I write.  I refuse to pull any punches.  I’m very enthusiastic about places that I love, but bluntly to the point about placed that I don’t.  With the travel industry still recovering, I’d hate to pan a place that is attracting so many tourists.”

Janelle was silent for a moment and then said, “I totally get what you’re saying, but you might be surprised by Wild Ride Resort.  Everyone I know who has gone there has loved it.  It’s really tastefully done.”

Andi wasn’t convinced.  “I don’t see that happening.”

“Well,” Janelle said slowly, “I never promised a glowing article.  Controversy sells magazines, too.”

Andi felt a little surge of hope, but said, “I don’t feel quite right having Oliver Maxwell put me up in his penthouse and then bashing his resort.”

“Would you be okay with it if he knows this is a possibility?”

“A probability.”

“Whatever.  I’ll call him and explain the situation.  If he agrees, are you in?”

Andi thought about Walter and her mother waiting inside the farmhouse for her and said, “I’m in.”  But when a twinge of guilt hit her in her empty gut, she added, “Just give me until the end of the week.  I’m visiting my mother after almost a year of traveling and I want to spend a few more days with her.”

“No problem,” Janelle said, with the perkiness back in her voice.  I’ll give Oliver Maxwell a call and get back to you.  Now, go enjoy your mother.”

Andi walked slowly back into the farmhouse, wanting to cause as little jiggle as possible, all the while wondering what she had just gotten herself into.