“Are you sure?” I puzzled over the list of names in front of me.
Gert nodded, hitching up her top for about the eighteenth time since we had sat down. Seriously, I have never been able to figure out why girls wear things they are unable to keep up without constant attention-drawing adjustment. I suppose it is some latent patriarchy-inflicted objectification or something, but from where I sit, if she doesn’t want her boobs to fall out, she should have left that in the closet and picked something sensible. It’s not even like I hadn’t seen them before; heck, it was pretty good odds that almost everyone in this particular Starbucks had, too, at some point.
I shuffled the papers a few times for good measure, then looked up at her. “So, all of these have expressed interest?” She nodded again, then hooked her thumbs under the fabric of her sundress, right at the armpits, and did another squirming shimmy. I sighed. If all of the names on this list represented a serious rival for the position, my future as president of the campus Shape-Note Society might not be as secure as I had hoped. I was going to have to change my campaign, kick it up a notch or three.
“Thanks, Gert,” I said, handing her back the documents. “I’ll let you get those back before anyone at the office misses them.” I stood up and smiled grimly at her. “I guess I have some calls to make.” It was time to get serious.