Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

I pour myself a cup of coffee, black, no milk or sugar. Not because I don’t like those things. I do. But half the time the milk goes sour or I run out of sugar, so I stopped bothering with either to avoid the disappointment.

It’s already ten, so I need to get a move on if I’m planning to make it to work on time. I drop a bagel in the toaster, grab a banana, and tuck a few granola bars in my bag in case I get hungry later.

Nevah cracks an eyelid and groans. “Do you have to be so noisy in the morning?”

“Last time I checked, only my name was on the lease here, so not sure who I’m trying to be quiet for.”

“And bitchy too. No wonder you’re always single.”

I ignore the barb, even though it hurts. Me and relationships don’t seem to work out very well. Partly because I’m not very settled. I can barely make it through the getting-to-know-you stage before I get the itch to get out of Vegas for a while. I learned the hard way that it doesn’t make a lot of sense to get attached to someone if I’m not going to be around longer than a few months, so I tend to avoid the getting-attached part.

“You and the boy have a fight?” She goes through boyfriends faster than underwear, so I don’t bother learning their names.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Nev shoves her head under the pillow.

“Suit yourself.” The toaster pops, and I crack the lid on the cream cheese. It’s practically empty. I opt for Nutella instead. “I’m working this afternoon, and I have a seminar tonight so I won’t be home until after ten. Will you be here?”

“Dunno.”

“Okay. Well, text or leave a note so I don’t worry.” I wrap my bagel in parchment, tear a paper towel from the roll, and head for the door.

“Can you leave me a twenty?” Nev calls out.

I hold back an annoyed sigh and fish my wallet out of my bag. “All I have is a five and a ten.”

She pops her head out from under the pillow. Her eyes are bloodshot and mascara is smeared under them. She looks like she’s been on a pretty hard bender. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

I toss the money on the table beside the door. “There’s leftover pasta in the fridge if you’re hungry, and bagels in the breadbox. You can sleep in my bed if you want.”

“Thanks, sis.” Nev rolls off the couch. She’s wearing a short, tight, black dress, which means she was probably out clubbing last night. I imagine she’s pretty hungover. She stumbles down the hall, leaving her blanket on the floor. A few seconds later my bedroom door slams shut.

I make sure the door is locked behind me and groan when I find the out of order notice taped to the elevator. I jog down eight flights of stairs, which makes me sweaty and sticky before I even step outside. It’s shaping up to be another warm day. Luckily the bus is air-conditioned, and I get a seat to myself. I read over my assignment on the way to work, self-editing for typos and spelling errors.

Today I’ll have company in the store since Helix, one of the other sales associates (it sounds better than cashier), has the evening shift, so we overlap for the “rush” hour. Helix’s real name is Helun Alix—her parents didn’t like conventional spellings—and she refuses to go by either name. Instead, she made up her own hybrid, and that’s what everyone calls her.

Heat from the exhaust slaps me in the face when I step off the bus. I fight a groan when I spot Eugene across the street in the café. Lately he’s upped his visits. More than half the time he doesn’t buy anything; otherwise he purchases things like flavored lube or lingerie. I’m not sure who the lingerie is for, but he always asks my opinion.

I give him a wave and walk across the parking lot. I don’t have to open the doors for another fifteen minutes. I spend the time straightening the magazine rack and the Blu-ray discs.

As predicted, the second I unlock the door and turn on the OPEN sign, Eugene comes in. He’s super nerdy and awkward. Not that I have a problem with nerdy or awkward. I started kindergarten a year early, so I know what it’s like to be both of those things too. It’s the greasy hair and the clothes that smell heavily of cigarette smoke and mold that are the real issue. Also, he does a lot of leering. It’s creepy.

Thankfully, a group of women looking for bachelorette party favors scare him off. Once they purchase all the penis-themed items the store carries, I get settled behind the sales counter, intent on finishing up the edits on my assignment, when the door tinkles again.