A Girl Named Jimmy, PT 3: A Bad Mood

The slowest series ever returns with this instalment 😀 I hope you will forgive me the slowitude, I assure you I have excellent reasons for it. Parts one and two are linked at the links corresponding to the words one and two. Just FYI, as always, I may release this as a book in the future, which requires taking down posts, or not ‘finishing’ the book online, so please enjoy the journey while it lasts. Oh, and this is the serial continuation of Mature Women, so if you don’t have that book, you should totally get it.

After another therapy session which seemed interminable and thoroughly purposeless, Jimmy was free to wander the streets with her stolen little trinket in pocket.

Erin had eased up and allowed her to go out and about without someone hovering over her the whole time. That meant some small measure of freedom, which she had missed. What she hadn’t missed was how empty the streets could feel sometimes. There were plenty of people around, but she didn’t know any of them and none of them knew her either.


Jimmy glanced to her left and saw someone familiar closing at a fast pace. It was one of her friends, a bleached blonde named Terri, whose skinny, angular figure spoke more to illicit substances than good diet and exercise.

“I thought you were dead, or in jail or something,” Terri said upon reaching Jimmy’s side.

“I was or something,” Jimmy said. “Now I’m not. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, the usual. Uh, do you… have anything?” Terri waggled her eyebrows.

“I’m dry, sorry.”

“Oh, cool, well, uh, see ya.”

And that was that. Terri was gone. Jimmy had been out of jail for a while and she hadn’t heard from almost anyone. Her cell had gone a few times, but each and every call or text message was about trying to get a hookup. Jimmy didn’t have anything to supply and as a result, she didn’t have anything in the way of friends.

She walked the rest of the way back to Erin’s place feeling hollow inside. The therapy session was pointless, her social circle had disintegrated with the arrest and all she really had to go back to was a three way love fest. Bad enough being a third wheel. Being a fourth wheel was worse.

Still, it was nice of Erin to let her stay. Not many people would do that. Erin was a nice lady. A really nice lady. And it was nice of Erin to let her be around. Nice. Nice. Nice.

Nobody was home when she got in. She went to her room, still fondling the little trinket in her pocket and lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while the hollow feeling seemed to widen to the point of consuming her entirely. What was the point of all this, exactly? Even if Erin somehow got her out of a jail sentence, there wasn’t anything to go to. And once the court case was over, Erin would probably want the spare room back for her ever expanding harem.

The sound of the front door shutting, followed by the gigging of Leslie and Monica hastened Jimmy’s descent into despair. It was all very well for them to be happy, they were middle class, middle aged women with all the hard parts of their lives behind them.

A knock at the door roused her from her misery.


Monica stuck her glossy raven haired head around the door. “Are you hungry? We have some chicken paninis out here.”

“No, thanks,” Jimmy said even as her stomach growled. She was starving, but she couldn’t handle going out and pretending everything was okay. It wasn’t okay.

“Did therapy go okay?”

“Therapy went super,” Jimmy said, addressing the ceiling in a monotone.

“Uh huh.”

Seconds ticked by and Jimmy became aware of the fact that Monica was still standing there, apparently not getting the hint that she should leave.

“Can I help you with something?” Jimmy shot an irritated glance at Monica. Monica’s round, pleasant face was usually a welcome sight, but at that moment all Monica was doing was reminding Jimmy of everything she wasn’t. She wasn’t a glossy haired voluptuous charmer, she wasn’t anyone’s lover, she was nothing but a charity case criminal temporarily being offered refuge in Erin’s house.

“You can come and eat this panini before I eat it,” Monica said. “Because I will.”

“Eat the damn panini,” Jimmy sighed.

“You’re in a bad mood,” Monica observed.

“What’s taking so long?” Leslie called out from the kitchen.

“Jimmy’s in a bad mood,” Monica yelled back.

The sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of Leslie, who had bought half the panini with her. She pushed past Monica and stood at the end of Jimmy’s bed, nibbling the panini.

“Why are you in a bad mood?”

“Holy hell,” Jimmy sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Leslie said to Monica. Monica nodded.

“Do you want half a panini?” Leslie gestured over her shoulder. “There’s half a panini in the kitchen.”

Jimmy groaned and rolled over onto her side, pulling a pillow over her head to block out the inane conversation about the fast dwindling snack. It worked temporarily. Monica and Leslie left her alone and Jimmy figured she was going to get some respite – until someone reached down and pulled the pillow off her face.

“Hey – what the hell?”

She turned and scowled into Erin’s face. Erin was standing over her, tall frame seeming taller from the fact that Jimmy was on her back looking up into Erin’s handsomely mature features. If Monica made Jimmy feel a little inadequate, Erin made her feel as if she were barely a person at all. Erin was hot, well put together, fiercely intellectual, incredibly kind, and in control of herself and pretty much everyone she came into contact with. She had a butch vibe which Jimmy somewhat shared, except compared with Erin, Jimmy felt about as butch as a stuffed teddy bear.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy said. “Gimme the pillow back.”

Erin’s left brow lifted slowly, her expression becoming that of a stern inquisitor. “When I ask you a question, young lady, I expect you to answer it.”

“I don’t feel like talking,” Jimmy said, reaching up to snatch the pillow out of Erin’s hands. She grabbed it close to her chest and stared up at her lawyer with a defiant expression. “And you can’t make me.”

“Well, Erin said, cocking her head. “I probably could.”

The worst thing about Erin’s arrogance was that it actually wasn’t arrogance, just a statement of fact.

“But you look like you’ve had a hard day,” she said. “If you want to talk, I’ll be in my study.”

With that, she turned and left Jimmy laying on the bed feeling simultaneously hotly rebellious and sadly alone.