Her reply comes within seconds.
Girl, it is two-thirty in the afternoon.
Good point. And actually, the problem isn’t that I’m horny. The problem is that I’m horribly clumsy, and this is the second timethat it’s landed me in a fireman’s arms. Which, as a result, makes me horny.
So, if I could just fucking learn how to walk properly…
By the way,Lou adds,check the GoFundMe page. We just reached our first milestone. We’re absolutely killing it, so whatever you’re doing, keep doing it… horniness and all.
I snort loudly. What is it with best friends and their habit for enabling our most reckless behaviors?
Chapter eleven
Chapter Eleven: Hale
My Monday starts too early, which is why it’s barely half past eight when I decide that it’s already gone to shit.
The first problem is that Noah has “Burning Down the House” stuck in his head, which also means that a guy named Dan on the crew is taking the opportunity to give everyone a pretentious lesson in Talking Heads history.
“Ah! All wet!” Noah yell-sings. “Hey, you might need a raincoat!”
He couples this with interpretive dance moves that involve a lot of pointing out the windows at the drizzly September day.
I growl at him to shut up, but that only earns me a chorus of lighthearted boos from some of the guys.
My second problem of the day is that the coffee I just forked out seven dollars for is burnt, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue that no amount of water is effectively washing away.
A more nuanced aspect of the day is that Lila isn’t here. She must have snuck out early this morning, and then Noah was the one to inform me that she would be at the Hartstrings office for most of the day.
Which isn’t technically a bad thing, obviously. In fact, it’s better that I don’t have to also think about her presence getting in the way of the daily routine at Station 47. At the same time, there’s a part of me that’s disappointed I won’t catch glimpses of her flitting about. No ribbons of golden hair or bright smiles to lighten the monotony when we have no calls to respond to.
It’s alarming how quickly I’ve grown used to having her hovering on the periphery of my daily life, and that is probably more frustrating than my first two problems.
And then, of course, comes the icing on the cake.
Because, at around ten, mere hours before my shift ends, I scroll through the news and discover a truly rotten update.
A former New York City mayor has officially endorsed Banks’ reelection campaign. It’s no small favor, for sure, and it will only serve to shed more attention on his angry plight against my station.
Perfect.
“Hey, Cap,” Noah greets me when I wander into the kitchen, still glaring at my phone. “What’s got that smile upside down?”
“That’s not how the phrase goes.”
Noah snorts. “You must’ve seen the mayor bullshit, huh? Man, I hated that guy when he was in office and now he’s just trying to stay relevant by fueling Banks’ flames.”
“Impressive metaphor.” Evan chuckles from where he’s sitting on a stool, picking at a frozen breakfast burrito.
Noah winks at him.
I purse my lips and head for the fridge. Maybe the green juice I brought will magically cleanse some of these problems from my life.
“Yes, Trent, I saw it.”
“Do you think it’ll make things worse?” Evan asks.
“Of course it will. But who the fuck drank my green juice?”
