The smell of Italian sausage and mushrooms wafts through the room as I lift the lid of the box snagging a piece.“I’m bored as fuck.Would love to get back to it,” I mumble around the huge bite of pizza.
Jimmy pops the top off a couple of bottles of beer and hands me one.“Right.So, you’ll take a few of my shifts this week to make up for all your hours I worked?”
I owe him for certain, but I know what he’s getting at.And the answer is no.
“I’m not taking St.Patrick’s Day.No.”
“I’ve had to train the new kid all by myself,” he whines.Legit whines, like a child.“Finn, you fucking owe me.”
“Not that.I’ve not had a break on St.Paddy’s in four years.”I reach for another slice of pizza.“And my flute is feeling neglected,” I deadpan.
Jimmy snorts beer out his nose.
I pop the pizza crust between my teeth and type out a quick text to the number Virginia sent me.My thumb hovers over the Send button, not quite ready to commit.I could call.Francie would tell me I should call instead of text.He’d tell me it was the proper way to say thank you.
But, if I call, she can opt not to answer and then just delete my voice mail.I’d never know if she listened or not.A text though?I can see that it’s delivered and when it’s read.With a text, I feel like I’ll have a better grasp on her level of ignoring me.What are the chances she didn’t turn off those notifications?
15
“If these walls could talk…”
“You’d probably masturbate less.”
Adelaide
Unknown: Thank you for coming by and taking care of me.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: How many sick people have you been tending to?
Me: Finn?How did you get my number?
Unknown: It is.I wanted to thank you, and I didn’t want to wait for days to pass.
Me: You’re welcome.
I slide my glasses to the top of my head and rub at my eyes.This is about the last thing I expected.I’ve been working nonstop for…glancing at the three-foot round clock hanging high on my wall…six hours.I lost track of time again, and now, I’m stiff.Hefting my computer and lap desk to the table next to the chair, I slowly start to unfold myself.
A low grumble of discontent sounds from under the blanket by my feet, and Eric wiggles his little body out, blinking at me.It’s a standoff.If I hold perfectly still, he’ll go back to sleep, but if I move an inch, there’s no way I’ll be able to put off his walk for even a minute.His eyes are just drifting closed when my phone vibrates with a handful of text messages back to back.
The sensation, while not at all unpleasant, startles the shit out of me since I dropped it in my lap after responding to Finn.It might have slid to strategically rest right against my lady bits.Eric takes my subtle shift as confirmation of his deepest desires, and he bolts for the door, sliding to a stop before he dances in an awkward circle.
Sighing, I push myself up, grab my jacket and bright-yellow scarf, and shove my feet into my boots.“Buddy, it’s cold out.This is going to be a quickie,” I tell Eric as I scoop him up to expedite the whole process.
Eric, of course, is oblivious to the cold and hops and skips down the sidewalk, looking for the ideal spot to poop.Honest to God, what makes the spot three blocks away from my warm apartment so much more desirable than the snow bank right outside the door?Dogs are stupid.Or maybe the male species in general are the stupid ones.
I’m frozen solid by the time we walk back through the door.Eric does his helicopter dance in front of his bowl for his post-poop feeding.So gross.I scoop out some kibble for him and go straight for my coffeemaker, fixing myself a fresh pot.The aroma fills the air around me as I fix myself a cup.
With my hands wrapped around the warm mug, I realize I have a big decision to make.More work?Or lose myself in a book for an hour or two?There’s not really a question to it.I grab my Kindle, and after a few minutes, just when things are starting to heat up, the cushion under my ass shakes.
Shoving my hand down into the side of the chair, I dig around for a bit before scoring.There are a ton of text messages, almost as many emails, and a missed call.I don’t talk to this many people in a given day, but there is someone new who has my number now.
“Eric, should I even look?”
Eric truly acts like he doesn’t give a shit.
Swiping at the screen, I see that Brielle sent me a ton of pictures of her and Not Brad.The guy is seriously hot and looks super familiar, but I can’t quite place why.The emails are from clients, and I decide to answer those later.The missed call is my dad.That’s a no.
