Vigilant

Ari lived close to the office—only a short commute of about ten minutes without traffic. That night she made it home easily, pulling her car onto her tree-lined street and parking in her driveway. She loved her house. The porch and swing, the leaded glass windows, the historic door. The Craftsman bungalow she purchased a year prior was painted a soothing seafoam green, with buttery-yellow trim. It was small—only a thousand square feet, two bedrooms and one bath, a tiny galley kitchen, but it was hers. She shared it with a roommate—one she chose to help make the mortgage payments, and for safety. Plus, he was Ari’s best friend.

Removing her bag and the paperwork from the car, she left the doors unlocked before climbing the porch steps and pushing her key into the deadbolt. Living in a neighborhood like this, one learned things, like to never lock car doors. If someone wanted to break into a car, it was best to just let them. No need to pay for glass repair. Before Ari could get the door open, two cats wove around her legs. Another rule of the neighborhood: never feed a stray cat.

Oliver wasn’t home yet. He worked at a law firm downtown and his commute was harder and longer. After changing, Ari set about making dinner. By the time he arrived thirty minutes later, she had two plates of pasta ready.

“Thank God!” he muttered, as he walked in and smelled dinner. “Have I told you how much I love that you cook? ’Cause I do. I was going to order pizza and cheese fries.”

“Wait…” Ari asked in mock seriousness. “That’s an option? ’Cause really, this can save for later.”

Oliver disappeared to his room and came out two minutes later in shorts and a stain-covered T-shirt. His blond hair was no longer business tidy, but disheveled. The messy hair better represented his personality. A little wild. Definitely silly. And very hot. “Nope sorry, my ass—”

“Language,” she called in warning. She’d instituted a no-cussing policy once she started with the juvies. Teaching by example, or something like that.

“Sorry, my booty is hitting that sofa and isn’t moving until I’ve watched three hours of bad reality TV programming.” He swung by the kitchen and grabbed drinks and utensils while Ari brought the plates to the living room.

Flipping on The Bachelor, Ari knew she was lucky to have Oliver. He was game for anything as long as it involved food or a good time. He kept his mess in his room, paid his bills on time, and generally didn’t pry into Ari’s life. He was good-looking in a scruffy, shaggy-haired, one-night-stand kind of way. Fortunately for Ari, their friendship outlasted the awkwardness of their own one-night stand.

“So you’re not going out tonight?” she asked between forkfuls of pasta.

“Nah, I’ve got nothing going on, and work? It’s kicking my ass a little.”Ari smacked him again for his language.

Oliver and Ari met in graduate school. He was in law school while she majored in social work. They both found jobs pretty easily and where Ari worked long hours for little reward, Oliver worked long hours for a shot at a big office with a nice view. Sometimes, she wasn’t quite sure it was fair trade. Okay really, it definitely wasn’t a fair trade.

Oliver set his plate on the coffee table and glanced away from the TV. “What about you? Plans?”

Ari also pushed her plate aside and pulled her knees to her chest. She casually confessed, “Rebecca thinks Nick is going to ask me out to dinner.”

“Did he?”

Ari leaned back against the couch. “No, but I would have said no if he did. It was a long day and I’d rather be here.”

Oliver snorted. “Yeah, good try. He’s okay, though. I never heard any bad stories about him.”

Oliver and Nick had been classmates in law school, although the only thing Oliver could tell her was that Nick was a top student and good at basketball. Typical Oliver with the complete lack of details.

“I suggested getting together this weekend, but I don’t know. Even though I worked at my desk all afternoon, I’m still behind.”

They cleaned up from dinner and Oliver got out his briefcase and began working on some files in front of the television. Ari paced a bit, bored and antsy. All the drama from the day had taken its toll. No way could she get to sleep anytime soon. Half her dreams involved finding a client dead, the other, monotonous cycles of running through the courthouse trying to find the right room, afraid she was late. A year before, she and Oliver would have been out at that hour, drinking or dancing even though it was a work night. But he wanted a promotion and spent a lot of extra time working for it.

“You know, I think I may go to the gym before it gets too late,” Ari said. She’d joined the twenty-four-hour one due to her erratic schedule.

“Now?” Oliver didn’t even look up from his paperwork.

“Yeah, I need to work off some of this stress.”

Ari went to her room and grabbed her gym bag. She stuffed it with everything she needed—combat boots, cargo pants and a black tank. She could work this stress out at the gym, or she could work it out on the dance floor.

“Be careful,” Oliver said.

“I will,” she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

* * *

Ari changed in the backseat of her car in club parking lot. Once she was inside and had a drink in her system, she immediately felt better. Glorious, a dance club deep in the industrial district, had been their favorite hangout before she and Oliver “grew-up.” She still loved the way the loud, thumping music echoed against the warehouse walls, vibrating into her skin. It was just what she needed. Mind-numbing music to take the insanity of the day away.

It wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out on Oliver looking for a release. He had no idea she came here alone at night, and she was sure he’d be shocked to find out. All she wanted was some time alone with the loud music and to work up a good sweat. Better than jogging on a treadmill for an hour.

“Hey girl, wanna dance?”