Sassy was a proponent of tough love or, more accurately, crazy-beyotch love. And she was not going to let her friend mourn a total loser like Jameson, who was only trying to get into her pants in the first place.
“Jeez, Becca. Get a grip.” Sassy chided. “You’re such a sap. I can’t believe you’re allowing him to have the upper-hand when he’s the manipulative, two-timing man-slut.”
“Oh, shut up, Sassy!” Becca shrieked through the torrent of tears. “This is allyour fault anyway!”
Sassy was shocked. “My fault? My fault? You have got to be kidding me. I have your best interests at heart, Beccaroo.” Sassy used her childhood nickname for Becca in an attempt to charm her and get her to see things her way. “Now, why don’t you calm down and listen to your sweet Sassafras?”
Sassy wrapped her arms around Becca and Becca cried on her shoulder. As Becca cried, Sassy comforted her friend in ways that only she knew how, gently massaging her scalp and running her silky fingers through Becca’s blonde curls.