Narcissist Seeks Narcissist by Giselle Renarde Page A

Noah’s Ark if it’s full of lesbians,” Babette muttered. “Only, I think you’d be happier if you had someone to share your life with.”
    “Well, I do, darling. I have you, don’t I?” Szuszu took a sip of her replenished scotch, and the taste made her sputter. “Babs,” she hissed, “this tastes Welsh. Have a swig and tell me what you think.”
    “It’s scotch, Szusz. It’s Scottish.”
    “Perhaps it was served by a Welshman. Did you see who poured this drink?” Rising on unsteady feet, Szuszu asked the lounge, “Did anybody see a Welshman pouring my drink?”
    “There are no Welshmen in this country.” Babette smacked her fist against the table. “Now sit down and shut up. I’m trying to tell you something.”
    She fell into her chair, her bony ass smacking the seat so hard she felt it through her spine. In preparation, she took another swig of scotch. It still tasted funny. Maybe her taste buds had jumped ship.
    “We’re going away for a time, Matilda and I.” Babs folded her hands over her heart. “Not forever, darling, only on holiday…but rather a long holiday, I’m afraid.”
    In the back of her mind, Szuszu knew she ought to react, but her heart felt frozen. “How long is long?”
    “Six months, at the very least. It’s a bit of a world tour sort of thing.”
    “A world tour…” Szuszu tried to blink, but the folds of her eyelids were stuck together. “Well, I can come along, right?”
    Babette reached across the table now, trapping Szuszu’s hand under hers. “I’m afraid not, Szusz. It’s a bit of a second honeymoon sort of thing.”
    Szuszu took a swig from one of the other scotch glasses littering the table. “But darling…”
    “Yes, Szusz?”
    “You can’t leave,” she said. “Who will I drink with when you’re gone?”
    Shaking her head, Babette released a deep sigh and handed Szuszu the serviette. “I only wrote this ad to amuse myself, darling, but I’m beginning to think you really need it. You just can’t survive on your own, now can you?”
    Szuszu flattened the wrinkled napkin against the table as Babette rose to her feet. “Will you post this for me before you leave?” Szuszu asked. Her eyes were too hazy to make out the words on the paper. “And make sure to attach a picture from when I was modeling. You know I like my girls a little younger.”
    “To think,” Babette mused, heaving Szuszu to her feet. “Matilda and I will be hiking in the Rocky Mountains and we’re bound not to see as many cougars as there are in this lounge right now.”
    Resting her heavy head on Babette’s shoulder, Szuszu closed her eyes and laughed.
    * * *
    The lounge manager took Szuszu by the hands and planted two Hollywood kisses on her cheeks. “Beautiful as always, my dear.”
    “Kenzo! I need some privacy and a prime location tonight,” Szuszu told him. “Somewhere with a clear line to the entrance. I’ve placed an ad, you see.”
    “Szuszu, baby, you know I love you…”
    “Yes,” she replied. “Everyone does.”
    “But,” he went on, “we talked about this the last time you put out an ad: I simply can’t allow prostitution in my establishment, not even for you.”
    She whacked him in the chest with the back of her hand, and nearly tumbled over in doing so. “A personal ad, Kenzo! A personal ad! On a dating site!”
    “Oh!” He chuckled politely, tossing his head to one side and leaning back. “I do apologize. An easy mistake.”
    “Right,” she grumbled, settling into the curved velvet booth near the darkened window.
    Darling Kenzo brought her a couple scotch and sodas, and when she was finished with them, he brought over a few more. Time was always a hazy concept, but when she felt as though she’d been waiting quite a long time, she told Kenzo, “I specified in my ad that I’m looking for a girl who resembles me, all right?”
    Kenzo nodded. “I understand, Szuszu, baby. If I see a decomposing rat skeleton in a blond wig, I’ll be sure to