Lisa poured herself over the files with more gusto than anything she’d ever done in her life. Well, except for that one thing, but that one thing didn’t count for much in the real world.
She thought her life was supposed to be perfect. She was the girlfriend to the quarterback, for god’s sake. Until that day they got into the fight, that is. It was years ago, but she still remembered it like it was yesterday.
Michael, the quarterback, had a summer job bailing hay for a local farmer. One night he had them all over for drinks. Michael and Lisa were just about 17 at the time. Michael’s boss got them good and drunk. They were all being crazy and having a good time until Lisa and Micheal both passed out on the sofa. Lisa woke up a few hours later. When she opened her eyes, she saw the boss’s hand cupping her breast. He moved it quickly and left the room. But, Lisa wasn’t having it. She lost it on Michael. She told him that he had to do something. But, deep down Michael was a wuss. He didn’t want to rock the boat. So, that night Lisa went out with Michael’s best friend and did that exceptional thing that she did with him instead. Nine months later, she was pregnant.
That’s when Cheryl slipped in. She consoled Michael and must’ve agreed with him about what a slut Lisa was. They formed a bond of negativity over her transgression and that quality led to their marriage. This pissed Lisa off. This pissed Lisa off astronomically. And it wasn’t the losing of Micheal. He wasn’t good enough for her anyway. It was the sneakiness of Cheryl. Lisa didn’t like Cheryl to say the least. She was a spider. A human, lady, spider, the worst kind of all. So, when Lisa read about Cheryl getting that stop sign put up in the Wannaqoo Warrior she just had about an anyuerism.
Thankfully, Walter, the lawyer, stepped in and gave her this job where she could re-focus her anger. The files she was supposed to look over consisted of employee interviews at a place called, “Best Breast”. Best Breast was a tit camp for new mothers and wet nurses. It was a refuge of sorts for ladies of all kinds. The idea was to create a large supply of human breast milk for consumption by premie babies in hospitals and adopted babies and adult men with freaky fetishes. The owners hoped to make money and help some needy women in the process.
The place was astonishing. It was like a camp for grown women. They each attended for about a year where they were contracted to supply about 70 ounces of breast milk per lady per week – give or take. In exchange, the ladies were paid $32,000 per year and provided with services like counselling and healthcare and continuing education classes. Lisa wished she had known about Best Breast when she was a pregnant teen. It sounded like a utopia for ladies and babies. Instead, she was forced to raise her girls by herself. Michael offered some help, but she didn’t want that Benedict Arnold-wuss any where near her girls. And she most certainly didn’t want Cheryl around by proxy.
Best Breast’s biggest compeitor was a company called, “Lacto-Plus”. Lacto-Plus was just like Best Breast except without the caring. There were no dorms. The ladies just showed up at the warehouse where they pumped and dumped. In exchange they were given coupons for toys at Baby-Land and the maternity clothing line at Kohl’s. Lisa couldn’t believe the moms weren’t paid for their “donations”. Lacto-Plus was run by some kind of tele-evangelist and he was afraid that if he paid women for their breast milk, they’d use that “milk money to buy crack”. That’s what he said, “some of them moms would buy crack with the money”. What an asshole, thought Lisa. Most new mothers were too busy to start up any kind of crack habit and if they were on crack already, surely you could test the milk for that. Hell, if the baby can taste the blue cheese she had on her salad or her one glass of chardonay, then surely it can taste the crack. So, just test it before you give it to any innocent babies and pay the mother’s what their worth! That was Lisa’s train of thought anyway. With all the added benefits that they were offering, Best Breast was solidly out performing Lacto-Plus that was until the “great, dry out”. Something had happened recently and women every where were running out of milk. They’d produce a droplet here and there and then they’d dry up pretty quickly after that.
Quite simply, the babies were wailing and the mommas were panicking. Lacto-Plus claimed it was all due to diet. They said that Best Breast had been feeding their new moms a vegetarian diet and vegetarian diets would suck up a woman’s vitamins. Lacto-Plus said they had the secret diet formula that would get these women back on the lactating track. And it was working. All the women that jumped ship for Lacto-Plus started producing again. Best Breast changed their food to try and stave off the stampede, but it was no use – their girls were still empty. Everyone stopped making milk, except for one group. The one group at Best Breast that was still producing was this group of women who had never been pregnant at all. That was the interesting tidbit that Lisa had found in the files. Who were these women at Best Breast? Lisa couldn’t even believe you could produce milk without having a baby, but apparently you can.
Lawyer-Walter entered the room to see if Lisa wanted some lunch. He was going to order a tuna fish sandwich from the deli down the road that he liked. Lawyer-Walter found himself seeing if Lisa wanted anything all the time. He seemed to have an uncontrollable need to see if she was alright. Walter couldn’t understand it. He had never felt like that before. Attracted to a woman, sure, but never caring so much about her well being.
“I’m going to order from Marko’s. You want a sandwich?” he said.
“No. I brought a power bar,” Lisa replied. “Walter, who are the ladies who are still producing over at Best Breast? Has anyone looked into them?”
“Huh. I don’t think so,” he said. “I thought everyone had adandoned Best Breast for Lacto-Plus,” he added.
“Nope, there’s one group of hold outs,” she said. “I think we should go talk to them.”
“Great. I’ll order this lunch and then we’ll head over there…”
But, Lisa was already up and grabbing for her oversized tote bag. “I’ll meet you over there, Walter,” she said. “I want to make a move on this.”
“Well, now, hold on…,” said Walter surprised. “Where’s the fire?”
“I don’t know. My gut just tells me something’s not right. The camp’s not far from here. So, I’m going to head over and get started.”
“Geez, okay. I’ll go with you, but can we stop at a drive-thru on the way?”
“You know you shouldn’t eat that stuff, Walter.”
“Well, I’ve got to eat something. I don’t know how you do it. I think you subsist on crackers, coffee, and power bars.”
“I also eat some grapes once in a while,” she laughed.
“Okay, let’s take my car,” he said. “Yours scares me.”
“Now, what’s wrong with my car?” she huffed.
“Let’s just say if there was a housing board for cars, yours would be condemned.”
“Don’t be so uppity, Walter. It doesn’t suit you,” she said.
Walter smiled. His chest got hot. It felt good, but a little like heartburn at the same time. Is this how love feels? Better pick up some tums while we’re out too, he thought.
Want to catch up? Read Brocko-bitch, Part 1 (If you like, please share using the buttons below.)