“Could you have been any louder last night?”
With a half-smile and shimmy of her shoulders, Sunday tossed her perfectly tousled, just-fucked hair enough to let me know she was sorry-not-sorry and returned to her bedroom with a cup of the expensive coffee I supplied our little household.
I knew she wasn’t going to be sorry, and that was fine. I understood. A girl needed what a girl needed. But I was still compelled to let her know, as I always did, that her late-night moans and screams of fuck me harder did not a good roommate make.
I craned my neck from the kitchen counter toward her room where she climbed back into bed with her coffee. Whoever the lucky guy had been, he was now gone.
Which was surprising because I was an early riser. But it was probably best to do the walk of shame before morning light. Given the chance.
Not that I had done anything like that. Recently.
“Where is he?” I called. “Did you mate and then kill?”
She dropped her head back and laughed. “You are so funny.”
With my own coffee cup cleaned and in the drying rack, I reached into the hall closet and grabbed my red umbrella and the rain slicker my mother had given me. Time to tackle the bus, my glamorous journey to work.
“I’m off, Sunday. Catch ya later.”
“Bye,” she said dreamily, sipping my coffee.
It was going to be a long day, and not just because I hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. Because rain was threatening, and the usual Washington, DC humidity had come early, the overheated bus was wet as a sauna. And thanks to my waterproof slicker, I was dripping with boob sweat by the time I arrived at the Georgetown Public Library.
My place of employment.
But all was not lost.
In spite of a rough morning, my spirits lifted in a surge when I ran up the steps to the stately old brick building with tall white columns. It was hands-down one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen, which always made coming to work a little more bearable.
Not so much when I saw my boss, Candice, however.
“Morning,” I called, peeling the slicker off my damp skin.
Candice poked her head around the corner, put a hand on her hip, and looked me up and down like she always did. Rumor had it she was extra-bitchy to the younger women on the library staff because she thought she was past her prime at only thirty-something years old, and was jealous of us.
I think she was just plain mean.
“You’re here early,” she sniffed.
I was always there early. And she always pointed it out. I don’t think she knew how to start a conversation any other way.
“Yup. I was awake, so I figured I’d come in and get going on checking in that new shipment of books that came in yesterday. I’m sure the patrons will be psyched about them.”
For whatever reason, we had a large contingent of readers who devoured political mysteries. Guess that sort of thing came hand-in-hand with being in a place like DC.
Candice raised a finger. “Before you do that, Joss, you’re going to have to wipe down the tables and chairs. The janitor was a no-show again.”
I forced my best fake-smile. It was no secret that as the lowest person on the totem pole at the library, any and all shit work landed in my lap.
But just once couldn’t Candice say, instead of you’re going to have to do X, something like would you please do X even though it’s a crummy job and theoretically not really part of your responsibilities?
I knew better than to hold my breath.
I didn’t expect a position as library assistant to be glamorous, but I was getting the feeling it was only a matter of time before she had me scrubbing the toilets.
“Sure, Candice. I’ll take care of that.”
The library was usually cleaned at night, but it wasn’t hard to see that no one had been by. The trash cans were still full from the day before, and there were sticky fingerprints and god knew what else all over everything.
I hadn’t gone to college and gotten a degree in international relations so I could clean a library. But I’d looked and looked for a job after graduation, and had to take this one at the public library when my meager savings had run out. That’s when I’d gotten an apartment with my new friend, Sunday, who got laid more than a porn star. Her enthusiastic sex noises aside, she was all right.
I pulled on the yellow kitchen gloves I found under the sink in the employee break room and started wiping fingerprints and other mystery goo off the library furniture.
“Hey, Joss.”
I looked up to see my brother, who occasionally visited me at work. At least when he was in town, which wasn’t often.
“Booker, hey. How’d you get in? We’re not even open yet. And I didn’t know you were back from your last trip yet.” I gave him a quick hug.
He pointed behind himself. “Door was unlocked. And I got back last night.”
And like she always did when my brother was around, Candice swanned over and put a hand on his shoulder.
It was so embarrassing.
“Well, look who it is,” she flirted, tilting her head coyly.
He tried to hide his grimace. Not sure she would have noticed it anyway, that’s how clueless she was.
“Hey, Candice. How are ya?” he said with an uncomfortable smile.
She pushed her chest out, but when Booker took a step away, she went back to her normal posture with a scowl, her padded bra not having caught his eye to her liking. “I’m… fine, Booker. Hey, when are we getting together for that drink?”
Wow. She was impossible to discourage.
So creepy, my boss hitting on my brother, especially when she treated me with such contempt.
Did she really think my brother would go out with her? Talk about oblivious.
It drove Booker crazy that she fawned over him when she was such a bitch to me. But he played along for my sake. He knew I needed my job, underemployed as I was with my expensive college degree. I might not make much more than minimum wage, but it was better than nothing.
“Well, Candice,” Booker said, “I’m gonna have to get back to you on that, okay?” He looked at his watch.
But she wasn’t easily shut down. “Okay, Booker. Play hard to get if you like. But when you come to your senses, you know where to find me.” She laughed deeply and sauntered back to her perch behind the front desk where she could be rude to patrons all day.
Booker sighed and lowered his voice. “Jesus. She’s the worst.”
“Isn’t she?” I whispered.
“Anyway, I need you to keep this bag for me,” he said, pulling a cross-body satchel over his head and handing it to me. “I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”
He thrust it at me so fast I had no choice but to catch it.
What the hell? I didn’t want to lug his shit around the city.
I pushed it back at him. “Why do I have to keep this? Can’t you just take it with you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Look. Just help me out, okay?”
I rolled my eyes back. It was what we did.
“I gotta go. See you tomorrow.” And he took off for the door.
I sighed, holding the bag and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with it when I remembered we needed to discuss what to get our mom for her birthday.
I ran toward the door, and when I got to the library front steps, Booker was revving up a motorcycle and then took off speeding down the street.
The funny thing was Booker didn’t ride motorcycles.
