No Strings Attached
“Jared’s voice scaled up an octave as he leaned in over the poker table. “Bringing a homeless person into this house?” His disgust and fury were aimed at the one person least likely to cause controversy: Sara.
It was Lindsay, martini glass in hand, who giggled, “A homeless ho. Does that make her a ho-ho?” She slapped the table with delight; her pile of poker chips went flying.
No one amused Lindsay more than herself, Eliot realized.
Unamused, Sara raised her finger to her lips. “Shush! She has a... name. It’s Naomi Foster, and she can hear you!”
And no one was more righteous than Sara.
Eliot shuffled the deck of cards. The housemates, who’d been together just under a month, had fallen into weekly Thursday-night poker sessions. Lindsay had started it, which was ironic, since she was the worst player. And that was quite an accomplishment, since Sara had never played in her life.
Linz could not keep a straight face. When she had a good hand, she got so excited, the table shook.MoreLess
It was Lindsay, martini glass in hand, who giggled, “A homeless ho. Does that make her a ho-ho?” She slapped the table with delight; her pile of poker chips went flying.
No one amused Lindsay more than herself, Eliot realized.
Unamused, Sara raised her finger to her lips. “Shush! She has a... name. It’s Naomi Foster, and she can hear you!”
And no one was more righteous than Sara.
Eliot shuffled the deck of cards. The housemates, who’d been together just under a month, had fallen into weekly Thursday-night poker sessions. Lindsay had started it, which was ironic, since she was the worst player. And that was quite an accomplishment, since Sara had never played in her life.
Linz could not keep a straight face. When she had a good hand, she got so excited, the table shook.MoreLess
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