AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The next response comes slowly, and I decide I may actually be going insane thinking about seeing her again.
I pull up her profile picture, noting that it’s dimly lit–like it was taken in the middle of the night. I’m not sure what this says about the mystery girl, but when I visualize the coffee sliding off the top of her car again, and landing squarely on her head, I realize she must have had one hell of a day to post this job.
Another message appears.
Ellis34:Nobody has ever asked me for a bucket list before lol. I’d like to get a tattoo or ride a bull.
Crashing a wedding has always sounded fun. Sleep beneath the stars, though that would be difficult considering it’s December. Maybe see a Broadway play or do something that terrifies me (within reason). I’ve always wanted to write my own song.
I smile, reading the last item on her list. I could figure something out for that. There’s no way she sings as poorly as the last guy.
I tap on her profile picture one more time. What would it hurt? I could use some extra spending money, and I’m sure I could figure it out. This also won’t put me in a bad situation with another artist who has next to no talent since my regular clients don’t need anything right now.
Me:When do you want to do this?
Ellis34:My birthday’s on the twenty-first. I could make the eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth, or twenty-first work as long as it’s in the evening. I’m not picky.
I put my phone away and grab a third Oreo from the package, shoving it in my mouth just as Simon jumps on the coffee table, a cat getting up to trouble, no doubt.
I lean forward. “What do you think?” I ask, knowing full well the cat gives zero fucks about me or my life. He’s just here to beg for dinner. “You think I should do it?”
Simon meows when I pet him behind the ears. I know the little fucker is just asking for food, but I take it as confirmation that I should plan coffee girl a killer birthday.
Grabbing my phone again, I look at the job, and click accept, typing out another message before grabbing the Oreos and heading off toward the cat food.
Me:Saturday the eighteenth? Five o’clock?
Four
Ellis
“One can’t be responsible for the decisions made at night with a popsicle stain on one’s shirt, Lennon.” I spin in my chair, grabbing another pretzel from thesmall bag on my desk. Lennon chuckles on the other end of the line from Minneapolis.
“Actually,” she says, “one can.”
I huff, leaning back and moving side to side. My entire body is full of anxious energy regarding tomorrow’s birthday event with a literal stranger. The guy is local, and he’s planning on taking me somewhere as opposed to just telling me where to go and hiring a car. I guess that’s why I decided it would be a good idea to call Lennon on my lunch break. I’m not sure why I thought that, though. She’s relentless and downright abusive.
“You did this to yourself. You could literally be celebrating your birthday with Ted Bundy.”
“Don’t say that.” My stomach flips, and I shove the bag of pretzels away with a wince. “We are still in the dungeon here. I’m surrounded by the sounds of a furnace that conveniently doesn’t heat our part of the office and the dripping of a damp basement.”
They attempted to make this strange part of the downstairs look like an office, but I still can't help thinking it’s a horror movie scene, and my current situation combined with Lennon’s Ted Bundy references? It doesn’t help matters.
Rupert walks in, and I watch him duck into the cubicle next to me. My nose wrinkles, knowing that if he’s returning from lunch, the scent of tuna is about to waft over the divider and into my space. My nose crinkles prematurely.
I love the guy, but tuna reeks.
“Listen,” Lennon starts, breaking my thoughts. “First of all, you’re probably going to be able to sue your company for mold exposure or something. You’ll be rich, so I’m not concerned about the dungeon. Second, just make sure you meet this strange audio-engineering guy in a public place. You can feel out the vibes and see if he’s an axe murderer.”
“An axe murderer?” I question, the sound of paper rustling from Rupert’s side hitting me just before the scent of tuna and coffee.
Gross.
“All I’m saying is maybe start with coffee, and if it seems like he’s planning to peel off your skin and wear it, then flee the premises.”
“Again,” I state, my tone flat. “You can’t say that shit. I’m in the dungeon.” I pick up a pen and anxiously click it before I see Rupert’s white hair poke around the wall, a scowl etched on his face. Holding my hand up apologetically, I glance at the clock. My lunch is up in two minutes.
“Lennon, I have to go.” I sigh, listening to the shuffling in the background. “Are you enjoying your time with your family?” I ask.
