“What the fuck is going on?”
“The guy rolling around the floor decided to try his luck yet again. I wasn’t expecting his hand to grab my pussy any more than he was expecting coffee in his lap.” The guys at the table are finally starting to look uncomfortable.
“You know what? I think you all need to leave, and take this asshole with you,” Del snaps.
“We didn’t do anything,” the burger-ordering guy sputters.
I look at him and shake my head. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. I’m here to serve you food, nothing else. What if I were one of your women? Or your mother, daughter, or sister? Would you still do nothing? Would you expect the other men to step in like none of you did? Or do none of you care that your friend just sexually assaulted a pregnant woman after being told no repeatedly?”
My words crash down on them. Some even look remorseful, but it’s too late for that.
“Time to go. Consider the drinks on the house,” Del tells them, not leaving my side as the men move past us, grabbing the guy from the floor and dragging him out.
“I’m going to fucking sue you,” he shouts, holding his dick.
“You can try. I have this place wired with so many cameras that there will be no hiding anything. You can explain to a judge why you did what you did and see what they think of your wandering hands and your willingness to proceed without consent” Del snarls. His face pales, but before he can say anything else, his friends pull him out the door. It slams shut behind them with a loud clang. I look at Del and apologize.
“One day, I really will get cameras,” she mutters.
“I’m so sorry?—”
“Absolutely the fuck not.” She holds her hand up to me and scowls. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize for someone else’s behavior. We don’t victim-shame ever.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. “You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”
“How many jobs have you had?”
“Paying ones? Three.”
“Really?”
“And your last boss?”
“Midas.”
I told her about Midas so I’m not surprised when she scrunches up her face. “You’re right. I am the best boss you’ve ever had.”
We both stare silently at each other for a minute before we dissolve into fits of laughter.
I’m tired when I climb off the bus, but not as bad as I have been lately. I’m hoping now that I’m my second trimester, the exhaustion will ease off a bit. Another full night’s sleep won’t hurt either. Del let me leave early as I’m opening in the morning. I’m going to hopefully spend the evening being lazy, though Ido need to squeeze in doing laundry before I run out of clean clothes.
I climb the steps to my apartment, not seeing anyone else around, like usual. If it wasn’t for the asshole next door and his music, I’d think I lived here alone. I’ve yet to see anyone else. The only indication that people do, in fact, live here is the cars moving in and out of the lot.
I slip my key in the door and push it open, pausing to glance around. My shoulders sag with relief when I see everything is as it should be. I guess I really can chalk up the other night to my baby brain and paranoia.
I toss my bag on the counter and pocket my keys as I walk to the bedroom to grab my laundry basket before I talk myself out of it. I scoop everything up and carry it to the door before cursing when I realize I forgot the detergent. I put the basket down, collect the detergent and fabric softener, and add them to the basket. Before tugging my keys out, I check my pocket to ensure I have my phone handy. I step out into the hallway and glance at my neighbor’s door. All is still quiet. I can only hope it remains that way. I lock the door and hurry to the basement where the machines are. I hate it down here, but as of yet, I’ve never had to share the space. I don’t waste any time, though. I separate the colors from the whites, throw a load in, and start her up before settling in on one of the rickety chairs to read on my phone.
I read until the machine is done, then throw the wet wash in the dryer and the last load in the washer. I look at my watch and bite my lip. I don’t want to be sitting here for another hour. Should I risk leaving my stuff here and come back? It’s not like any of it is worth stealing.
“Fuck it.”
I go up to my apartment and shower before making myself a bowl of cereal. I ate at the diner before I left, but I’ve found that I’m not as sick in the morning if I eat something small beforebed. Once I’m done, I wash my dirty dish and nearly break the damn thing when the bowl slips from my hand as a loud thump and a curse ring out from next door. I listen again but don’t hear anything else. Like hell am I going around to investigate. In fact, I’m making it my mission to avoid the guy as much as humanly possible.
Figuring the wash must be done by now, I head down and grab it. The dryer is done, so I pull the clothes out and toss them in the basket before groaning. I forgot about drying the shit in the washing machine. I contemplate air-drying it in the apartment, but I don’t want it to smell damp, and it’s just not warm enough in there to dry quickly. With a grunt, I throw it in the dryer, knowing I’ll have to return. I stomp up the stairs and hurry inside before curling up on the sofa with my book again. I don’t trust myself to read in bed because I’d fall asleep in no time. When I feel my eyes drooping anyway, I know I’m fighting a losing battle so I set an alarm on my phone to wake me.
I jolt upright, what feels like ten hours later. When I look at my phone, it’s only been a couple. I squint, wondering how the heck I slept through the alarm.
“I must have been more tired than I thought.”
