Sexy Life, Hello: An Excerpt

Read an excerpt that takes place in a fictionalized version of California's Central Coast

Below, I’m pleased to share an excerpt from my novella Sexy Life, Hello.

This is from the second chapter, shortly after Jane has been fired for lewd behavior at the school where she was a fourth grade teacher. In this scene, Jane is interviewing to be a nanny for a couple that lives in Oolala Beach, a fictionalized version of Pismo Beach and Avila Beach, on the Central Coast of California. I spent a lot of time at those beaches when I was in college, and it was a pleasure to fictionalize that area — and my college town of San Luis Obispo — for this book.

Sexy Life, Hello: An Excerpt

“So!” Irene said as she leaned toward the steaming mug that sat on the round wooden coffee table between them. She dunked her tea bag slowly, once, twice, then set it on a little plate in the shape of a heart. She leaned further forward, then, sipping from the mug without picking it up. Her slick, chin-length hair slipped from behind her ears and stuck to the corners of her lips. When she sat upright again the hair was still there. It was as if she had food stuck to her mouth and Jane wanted to tell her that she had a little something.

“But she wants to be a writer!” Lorrie called from the kitchen, where she was making Jane an espresso from a machine that pumped out foamy little drinks using silver pods with flavors like Sanctimonious and Everglade. Jane had selected a flavor called Glorious. The machine was sputtering gloriousness into a cup as Lorrie called, “Cream, you said!”

“Yes, please!” Jane called back. She forgot that in her cover letter she had said something about being an aspiring writer, only because the ad mentioned how both women worked in the literary field. Why had she written that? She didn’t like writing. She didn’t even like reading.

“Well anyhow, I appreciate your service,” Irene added in a tone that was hard to decipher. She leaned toward her tea cup again and made that sipping face people make when their drink is quite hot but very tasty.

“Oh, well, thank you,” Jane said with a tone meant to say: I don’t deserve this kinda praise.

Irene smiled. Jane smiled. Both women sat on the edge of their sofas.

“So, this is the abode,” Irene said, waving her hands as if to say, this ol’ dump. Their house looked like something that would be featured in Architectural Digest. The walls were painted in delicately varied tones of gray. When Jane looked down at the multicolored tiles under her feet, Irene said, “Those are imported from Morocco,” and when Jane noticed the only cheesy thing on the wall—a clock in the shape of a train—Irene said, “Gift from granddad. It choo-choos on the hour.”

“I hate that thing!” Lorrie was saying as she entered the room with an orange espresso cup and saucer set in each hand. “But if we took it down, my dad would look for it every time he came over. Here’s your Glorious.”

Jane didn’t know how seriously Lorrie took the naming of her espresso flavors so she simply smiled and thanked her and tipped back the whole thing in one go, not realizing how little was actually in her cup. The wild rush of caffeine made it difficult to focus her eyes for a second and Jane imagined them talking about her after she left. Did you see that? Think she takes her liquor like she takes her espresso?

Jane smiled at Lorrie, who smiled back from where she sat cross legged on the floor with Franny and Zooey. Aside from baby coos and the sound of wooden fruit clacking against each other, no one was saying anything. So Jane smiled again, trying to maintain an expression that looked easygoing. She was trying so hard to seem nice that she felt nefarious, like the second one of them looked away she’d pry a Moroccan tile from the floor and slip it into her purse.

The fruit chucking baby pulled a bunch of wooden grapes from the basket and ran her tiny fingers along the bumpy purple outlines. Her sister was trying to fit a wooden apple into the front pocket of her overalls.

“I love their fruit collection,” Jane said.

“Great, huh? My sister sent these from Belgium,” Lorrie said as she got up to retrieve the banana. She pretended to talk on the banana phone as she said, “Well, so you want to be a writer. Is that right?” She handed the banana to Franny, or Zooey, and looked at Jane with an expression that urged: Do tell.

“Oh, yes,” Jane said, nearly believing herself when she went, “I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but never earnestly pursued it.”

Irene looked at Lorrie as if to say: If I had a nickel.

That was Jane’s cue to add: “The time is now.”

Nods of approval. The wooden banana flew across the room.

“Precisely right,” Lorrie said. The couple went on to explain their respective roles. Lorrie ran a literary organization that sponsored events throughout the Central Coast. Irene was a famous writer of shitty mystery novels. When Irene said who she was, Jane mentioned the many places she’d seen her books: airports, bookstore windows, Target. Jane smiled politely as she thought about how ridiculous it was that millions of people around the world were reading Irene’s garbage. But it made sense; a lot of people are idiots.

“Good for you for changing jobs at this point in your life,” Lorrie said.

Jane nodded as if this were some sacrifice she’d made. “Thirty two seems old to shift careers. But, it also feels like the right time,” Jane said, referencing how she could write during the girls’ naptime. “If that’s okay with you.”

Nods of approval, hand waves like, of course.

“You know, a lot of people stay stuck in jobs because it’s easier,” Lorrie agreed, accompanying her statement with a gesture meant to demonstrate her mind was blown by this mistake.

“Certainly,” Irene chimed in. “People are too scared to try something else.”

Lorrie nodded. Jane nodded.

“Complacency is a sin,” Lorrie said as if she were reciting a commandment.

The women repeated a different version of that same sentiment when they called hours later and offered Jane the job. The twins will be delighted to have you, they’d said of the girls, who seemed easy enough, as far as babies go. Lorrie and Irene asked if Jane would be able to start the following Monday, which was the first of May.

“May Day,” Jane said, looking at the calendar.

“May Day,” the women agreed, and it seemed clear that none of them remembered what that meant. And then there was a pause, in which Jane thought they were going to ask something else. A contingency, a hired-after-your-reference-check moment. She was glad they couldn’t see her expression during this pause, where her heart was skipping over beats and she waited for the part where they’d ask why she didn’t at least finish out the school year. But they didn’t ask. And it felt clear, as they said goodbye, see you Monday, that Lorrie and Irene trusted Jane. That Jane seemed like a good person. And she was, really. She was.

If you’re interested in snagging a copy of Sexy Life, Hello, we’ve got some limited edition signed copies available directly through the press. Or, you can order them wherever books are sold.