Jules
omg details!!!!!
tell us everything!!!!
it’s not sketchy, is it???
Me
No.
Ironically enough, I am also going to be doing janitorial work, Jules.
Jules
you love cleaning!!!
I did NOT love cleaning, so it sucked when I had to do it
but this is good, right?? Where are you cleaning??
India
Aurora?
Jules
Aurora???
WHY ARE YOU NOT ANSWERING THE QUESTION??
Personnel situation aside,I do have to admit it’s amazing that I get to sleep late the next morning. Not a ton longer, but I’m only going over to the town square rather than all the way toBoulder. Now that we’ve got the permit to hold our event here, I can start mapping out logistics and lining up local sponsors.
It’s a perfect spring Friday, the relief of the impending weekend ahead. Despite my concerns—despite not knowing what to expect—I’m cautiously curious about how tomorrow will go with Roman Drake, too.
I don’t know how he knew I love to clean and organize, but he must have figured it out somehow. I’m just slightly ashamed that I requested fifty dollars an hour.
My sisters just congratulated me for being so bold.
I don’t know what I was thinking. Roman wanted me to ask for more, and I’m in a tight spot, so I did. But looking at it now, I’m questioning my own audacity. I would never ask Denice for something like that. I’m having trouble asking her for a raise I know I deserve, and she’s not even scary. I was just at war with myself—demanding to be paid what I’m worth versus sucking it up and thriving on what I’ve been given.
I glance around as I stroll down the sidewalk and into the heart of town, inhaling deeply as I’m hit by the faint scent of donuts and ice cream. The atmosphere helps calm me and clear my thoughts, and I breathe deeply once more. I’m a little early, but I wanted some time to gather myself before anyone else shows up. So I walk at my own pace, forcing myself to relax instead of rushing.
It’s a problem I have sometimes—rushing. I don’t just forget to smell the roses; I forget the roses exist. Sometimes I even run them over.
Most of the shops I pass are in the process of opening, although some won’t open for a couple more hours. I watch as the owners get ready for the day; they place chalk boards with daily specials on the walkway out front, or turn on neon signs, or water the flowers in their window boxes.
A faint smile finds my lips as I spot a bench that’s calling my name, in the shade of a tree and right next to the little bookshop my sisters love. My heelsclip-clipas I approach and then settle there.
I love Lucky. Stopping to smell the roses or barreling down the road—either way, I’m glad I’m doing those things here.
The fresh sun warms my skin as I wait, and I redirect my thoughts to the day ahead of me, with Bart and Mindy and Roman Drake.
Roman Drake, who as far as I know hasn’t told anyone about meeting me in the holding cell. Is it only a matter of time? Denice is his sister. Will he say something?
My anxiety stirs. Maybe I shouldn’t think about him after all. So when “Dancing Queen” by ABBA starts to play from my purse, I pull my phone out with relief. “Hey,” I say, not bothering to look at the caller ID; Jules is the only one with this ringtone.
Her bright voice finds me right away. “Did you do something with my lipstick when you wiped down the bathroom downstairs the other day?”
