AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
The rain steadily fell as I glanced out the window, waiting for my coffee to brew. Another week has gone by in this dead-end job of mine. Thankfully, it’s Friday. Who would have thought at the age of twenty-six that I’d still be working the desk job I accepted after graduation four years ago.
The job isn’t hard or worse even. It’s boring as fuck. I like to stay busy. If something comes across my desk, it doesn’t sit. I take it and do what needs doing. Whether I’m processing an invoice, paying a bill, or revising a contract, I get it done, and then I’m done. So, it makes for a long day, which makes for an even longer week.
I slide my arm through the cardigan and step through my kitchen doorway. The aroma of fresh Columbian coffee comes from the brewer, and I approach the counter reaching for my favorite coffee mug.
It was a gift from my sister, Nicki. With a smile, I pull the coffee pot from the hot plate and pour my morning pleasure into the mug with the dancing unicorn. The saying is written on it: With a fuck fuck here, and a fuck fuck there. Here a fuck there a fuck, everywhere a fuck fuck. She had given Keni, our youngest sister, and me them for Christmas two years ago.
I giggle at the memory of my mother’s expression. Her big brown eyes almost popped out of her head. Of course, we all burst out laughing and had mom make a pot of coffee so we could break them in. I know mom wasn’t offended. She was probably jealous that Nicki hadn’t bought her one.
It’s the little things I miss about being around family. Sitting, discussing what our plans were for the day. The smell of bacon or sausage cooking while we got ready in the mornings. Or the way Dad always walked in and kissed mom on the cheek, saying good morning before he left to build his next masterpiece.
He designed and made custom furniture out back in his makeshift shop, originally our car’s garage. As he would say, no overhead means more profit. It didn’t pay a lot, but we never struggled. We have always had a roof over our heads and food on our plates. It’s how my parents are, not into all the material things. Not like the neighbors, well, some of them at least. Mom claims that as long as you can smile about one thing a day, it’s a good life.
Living alone, in a town over from Teaneck, and working full time, we hardly see each other. My sisters and I are all at different places in our lives. I, being the most responsible and oldest, have moved out. I pay my own bills and work my ass off just to get by, even with a decent job. Who knew cable and wi-fi could be so freaking expensive? But I’m doing it, and that’s something to be proud of.
I’ve been living off of ramen noodles and peanut butter this last month. Don’t you dare tell my mom! She’d be yelling at me. I could hear her now: “you should've come over; we always have extra. Why didn’t you call? Here is a couple of bucks.” I actually have been saving to go out tonight and celebrate with everyone.It’s my sister Keni’s twenty-first birthday, and we’re partying it up at the Wigwam, a quaint bar with plenty of memories.
Nicki promised to decorate the back corner and have the DJ play all of our favorite tunes. I’m sure she will end up going home with a random fling. She usually does, but that’s her. “A live life in the moment,” kind of gal. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her, other times- not on your life!
Mom and Dad have already texted that they will come and eat with us but were adamant about leaving prior to the shenanigans. It’s my job to have fun, stay sober and keep Keni supplied with alcohol.It should be interesting, to say the least. Here I am at twenty-six and still babysitting my little sisters, though I do have to admit I am excited about celebrating another twenty-first.
After seeing the dark grey clouds glare on the screen, I check the weather app on my phone and grab the umbrella from the closet. With the door closing behind me, I slide my phone into my wristlet and listen for the lock to engage.I quickly dash between the raindrops through the small courtyard and onto the sidewalk with keys in hand. I take the stairs down to my parking lot, wiping the quick falling droplets off of my face and praying my hair doesn’t get flat. The only thing worse than rain is humidity.
I click the key fob that I hold in my hand; the car chirps, and I chuck the umbrella onto the front seat floor and climb in. Once it’s idling smoothly, I put it into first gear and head out. The only advantage of my job is my hours. I normally work nine to four and miss most traffic. Once in a while, I go through town and get stuck behind a school bus, but otherwise, it’s a quick ten-minute trip.
Once I’m settled in at my desk, I check my emails. Three replies and two updates later, I look to my bin sitting at the corner of my desk. Lifting the few papers, I fan through the small pile. Four contracts and one maintenance agreement need to be done by the end of the day. With a glance at the clock, it’s nine-thirty, and I turn my attention to the documents and open the program on my computer.
An hour and a half later, and I’m done. Ugh, now what do I do for the next five hours?
I click on the Facebook icon and scroll, adding a few books to my TBR list as I go. Since my romantic life is basically non-existent, I live vicariously through the talent of indie authors. I wish I had the courage to write and publish some of the things these authors do. I’m talking anything goes, literally. In the last two years, I may honestly say I have not read a book that didn’t have a curse, a tit, a cock, or a sex scene. Yeah, these are my people.
As the phone rings, I pick it up and answer, “good morning, and thank you for calling. This is Danielle. How can I help you?” The customer requested a copy of their last lease via email. I take down the email address and the account number with my pen in hand. While he continues to talk about nothing that concerns me, I pull up my outlook. I open a new message and attach the scanned lease document with a click. By the time the guy on the other end finishes his sentence, I reply, “if you check your email, you should have it.” He does, “wow, that was quick. Thank you,” he says.
“No problem. If you need anything else, feel free to reply to the email or call back.” We say our goodbyes, and I turn to check my reminders. My yearly physical is at four-thirty. Shit, I forgot. I should be able to get in and out without it interfering with my arrival time for the party. I set an alarm reminder for four o’clock, so I ensure I don’t forget again and go back to scrolling the internet.
