Nancy And Anne
Start Reading Nancy’s Story Here.
“Where’s hunky hunk?” Stanley flitted around Nancy excitedly.
“He had to study,” not exactly a lie. Ted was studying. Nancy should be studying. Heck, she quickly sidestepped a 300 pound football player hell bent on squashing her flat, they all should be studying.
She left her new boyfriend home tonight ‘cause she… a man ran screaming by wearing only underwear and what looked like toilet paper… she didn’t think they were yet at the stage for one of Stanley’s parties.
Not that Stanley’s parties were truly Stanley’s parties. He never held them at his own place… a girl, no guy, wearing a flamenco dress and army boots stomped past… Stanley was too much of a neat freak for that.
“His loss, Nancy Dancy,” her friend shrugged slender shoulders, pushing a vivid blue drink in her hand. “How is your hair?” He tugged at her beret.
Before she could answer there was a blast of light followed by a wave of heat.
A screech. “Children. I said no alcohol in the fondue” and Stanley was gone.
Leaving her alone in the midst of chaos. Typical Stanley.
“How’s your alcohol tolerance?” A tiny writhe of a girl sidled up next to her.
“Not good,” half a beer and Nancy was wasted, “why?”
Thin beige fingers relieved her of the drink, “then stay away from the anti-freeze. The fumes almost knocked me over.” Serious brown eyes, appearing all the larger for the black scarf completely covering her head, peered up at her.
“Thanks.” Nancy grinned. “I’m Nancy.”
“I know. I’ve heard of you.” A shy smile back. “I’m Anne.”
She made a guess. “Annie Bananie?” Not much of one. It could be no one else. Anne James. One of Stanley’s best buds.
A grimace. “If you don’t call me Annie Bananie, I won’t call you Nance No Chance. Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook hands, bumping into each other as a man dressed as cupid rushed down the hallway, followed by a rather stout Henry the Eighth. Nancy caught Anne’s eye and they laughed.
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Read more about a much older Nancy and Anne in Breach Of Trust, available May 2008.
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