Got Your Number

thought wryly, most of the female population would be gay. Elise had always been wound tight, so Roxann suspected that the woman's newfound gayness was justification for the things she perceived to be wrong in her life. And the break-in was probably retribution for Roxann's not jumping on her bandwagon—from Elise's stories, she knew the woman had done some pretty wacky things to men who had wronged her. The fact that Rescue would hire her was testament to their desperate need for staff.
    Roxann inhaled deeply, then exhaled, relaxing her back and shoulder muscles. For now, she'd simply lie low for a few days, and maybe look for a new place when she got back to Biloxi. Although she really liked the color she'd painted her bedroom...
    She must have dozed, because Angora's voice startled her so badly she klonked her head against the unforgiving porcelain. "Ow!" She looked up to see Angora, wearing only the T-shirt and the tiny panties, holding a bottle of something. "What did you say?"
    "Sorry. I said, look what I found. Tequila."
    Roxann winced, rubbing her head. "Don't tell me you want to drink that stuff."
    "But I do."
    "Have you become a hard drinker since we last partied together?"
    "I like margaritas."
    She laughed and pushed herself up, then reached for a skimpy towel. "It's not the same."
    "Come on, I deserve a drink."
    "I won't argue that point, but there's truth to the adage about drinking tequila 'to kill ya.' You'll have to mix it with something just to get it down."
    "I saw some tomato juice in the fridge."
    She grimaced. "If you're determined."
    "You look great," Angora said, nodding in the general direction of Roxann's nudity.
    "Uh, thanks...I guess." A stupid flush climbed her neck as she tucked the ends of the towel between her breasts.
    "You were always so nice and thin."
    "You were the one with the great figure."
    "Great figure? I'm considering swallowing a tapeworm to get rid of these extra pounds."
    "You're letting Dee get to you. I'm ordering pizza and we're going to enjoy it." If she could find a pizza parlor that would deliver to this neighborhood. "How are those thongs?"
    Angora frowned. "Invasive."
    Roxann laughed, padded into the bedroom, and picked through the hodgepodge of clothing spread out on the yellow comforter. She stepped into underwear and a pair of denim shorts, and pulled on a pink tank top.
    "Can I borrow a horsehair brush?" Angora asked, running her fingers through her nearly dry golden hair. "I can't afford to get split ends."
    "There should be a brush in here," Roxann said, opening the top drawer of the bureau. "But I can't promise horsehair." She rummaged through miscellaneous items that resurrected memories: key chains, dog-eared paperbacks, her name badge from the dress shop where she'd worked during high school, her Notre Dame tassel. Why hadn't she taken it with her when she left home?
    Why, indeed.
    "Our Magic 8 Ball!" Angora lifted the vintage toy—a pajama powwow prop—from the clutter with a squeal. "Wonder if it still works?" She placed her hands on the ball and closed her eyes. "Am I a big loser jilted bride?" She opened her eyes and consulted the "magic" window. " 'Yes, definitely.' " She looked up. "It still works."
    Roxann laughed, relieved to see her cousin's sense of humor returning. "If memory serves, the thing is broken—it only says 'Yes, definitely.' "
    "Is this a college annual?" Angora asked, removing a bound book embossed with "1992." She squealed again, and Roxann was reminded of her cousin's annoying habit of squealing. Angora's split ends were forgotten in her glee to locate her picture. "Here I am. Oh, that jacket is dreadful, isn't it?"
    Roxann looked over her shoulder. "Who can see the jacket for that big hair?"
    "Okay, let's see your picture, smartie." She flipped back to the Bs, then frowned. " 'No picture available.' "
    Roxann grinned. "Sorry to disappoint."
    Then from the pages of the annual, an envelope fell and twirled to the floor. A memory chord stirred as Roxann bent to retrieve it.
    "A love letter?" Angora teased.
    "Yeah, right." Neither she nor Carl had dared to write down their feelings for each other.
    "Open it."
    She slid her finger under the envelope flap, and pulled out several sheets of yellow legal-pad paper. When she unfolded them, she was swept back through a time tunnel. "You won't believe this."
    "What?"
    Roxann held up the sheets for her to see the writing on the top of the pages: my life list.
    "Our life lists?" Angora