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I remember the time I walked outside and found Charisma Carpenter lying in the back seat of a Jeep Cherokee. The seats where folded down to make more lounging room, and she was completely naked, except for a pair of thigh-high white nylons and a few strategically placed Chinese take-out menus. I asked her what she was doing and she told me that she had gotten bored with the whole Hollywood actress think, and that she had decided to go into investment banking, and this was her way of seducing new clients. I latched on to that word "seducing," of course, though I should have known better; she is married, afterall, and has a small son. She suggested we move to the bedroom, which gave my eyebrows a real workout, but she was just cold and wanted to warm up. I have to admit that though she was very good with the menus, I did catch a quick glimpse of her sweater puppies, but I was immediately distracted by the thought that there was not a sweater in sight, anywhere, and the sobriquet was entirely inappropriate. I fetched her a lemonade and seltzer water, then she crawled into my bed and I sat on the floor with my back to the wall, as she gave me a lecture on portfolios and money markets and bull markets. Eventually I fell asleep, as my room is not very well lit, and I always keep some aromatherapy diffusers about to help me relax. Also, I had been up late the night previous playing free downloaded demos on the Xbox 360. When I awoke, I assumed I must have dreamed everything about Charisma, but no, she was still there, just her head visible above the blanket and her toes peeking out the other end: she's actually quite tall. I noticed through the white nylon fabric that her toenails where painted red, as I came fully awake; they say that right before death one tends to notice very small, insignificant details, though I don’t think I was in any kind of real danger. Charisma remarked that I "sleep funny," though I don’t know what she meant by that. She said "so, anyway, I want you to think about what I said. T-Bills, Jason. T-bills." Then we heard a horn honking, and she jumped up, taking my sheets with her, and was gone. I got to my feet, still a bit groggy. I went to the front door, where she had left the sheet, neatly folded, with the Chinese take-out menus, her name and number written on one in red ink, and also a reminder: "Check out Veronica Mars Season 2 now available on DVD." I had actually already watched it, thanks to Netflix. It's a pretty good show. But here's the thing: the Jeep Cherokee was still there. Who did it belong to?
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