Chapter 6
Lexie
By the time I leave Cammy’s condo in Wrigleyville and make my way to my tiny apartment on West Fullerton in my Hermosa neighborhood, it’s almost noon. Exhausted, I practically crawl up the four flights of steps to get to my door. When I unlock the door, I push it open and am welcomed by some pretty angry chirps. “I’m home, guys.”
I wasn’t lying when I told Cammy that my pets were my children. Since I’m allergic to cats, I’ve replaced them with lots of other little creatures. I’ve got a rescue canary named Cyclops, for obvious reasons. (Yep, he only has one eye.) I’ve got a pair of Guinea Pigs named Ron and Hermione, and a Red Eared Slider turtle I named Carl until I found out he was a she, now she’s Shelly. Get it? Shell-y?
Granted, these pets really don’t care about me like a cat would. **Snort** But, I love taking care of them, and they make my tiny apartment a home. Walking into my main room, I first take a peek at Shelly. She’s got a great set up with rocks, water, and plants. I set some turtle pellets out for her and make a mental note to bring her some veggies from the fridge later.
Ron and Hermione are fast asleep under their dome. Probably exhausted from a full night of spinning on their matching wheels. They’re night owls. I give them fresh water and add some food and some straw to their cage. Walking into the living room, I see Cyclops sitting on his perch gazing at himself in his little mirror. “Hey Cy, how’s it going?” I poke my finger into the cage and wait for him to tap my finger with his beak. After he does just that, I give him fresh water and some seed making a note to clean cages later today.
“Guys, what a night!” I say knowing that my pets don’t give a rat’s ass. “If I could remember the last half of it, I’d tell you all about it.” I snort a laugh and make my way to my bathroom. I start the shower up, so it has a long time to warm up. Stripping out of my clothes, I toss everything into my hamper and wait because it takes the water a long time to heat and get up to this floor. Once it does, I’ve got about five minutes, tops, before it turns to ice water and I freeze my cojones off.
When it’s warm enough, I hop in and wash my hair and scrub my body. Everything still hurts, but it’s nothing some food and a nap won’t cure. When I’m clean, dry, and in my pajamas, I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, pour myself a big glass of milk, and plop down onto my love seat. I finally have time to think about the events of the night. Most of it’s a blur like the fact I still don’t remember dancing let alone grinding my rear end into one of the guys from the Pit.
I’m not looking forward to showing my face at work in the morning. I winch thinking about last night. Oh! Wait! I do remember something––the kiss in the storage closet with Archie. “Wow! That was a great kiss. Maybe the best kiss I’ve ever gotten.” Archie was way more experienced with that mouth than I thought he’d be. It’s strange, though. Afterwards, he practically ignored me. I tried to talk to him, but he just scowled at me. Ugh, men! I’ll never understand them.
No matter. I’ll talk to him tomorrow to clear the air. Maybe suggest we go out and do that again when there aren’t seventy-five co-workers running around. “That’s it!” I nod to myself like I’ve just figured out how to solve that pesky world peace problem. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
