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“Adam, I’ve got plans.” I started shuffling papers around on my desk to avoid looking at him.
“No, you don’t.” He laughed, “you never have plans.”
I lifted my chin and glared at him. He could have been a cute guy if it weren’t for the oil-slicked-back hair and squirrely hazel eyes. On second thought, he could never be good-looking. “No.”
“Come on, Ember,” he whined. “I’d do it for you if you ever had a hot date.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Look, do me this favor,” he glanced over his shoulder, “and I’ll split the commission on anything you sell tonight.”
The evening hours were the best sales times. If I could sell a piece or two of furniture, it would give me a little bit of extra spending cash. What the hell, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Fine,” I snatched the paper bag off the corner of my desk and peered inside. “Man, you really wanted me to cover for you, didn’t you?”
He leered down at me, “I told you. This is one hot date. I was willing to do anything.”
I pulled out the roast beef sandwich from my favorite deli, the scent of the spiced meat made my mouth water. “So where did you meet her?”
“Dirty Martini,” he smirked.
I pulled the sandwich back from my lips. “You’re going out with a stripper? Come on, Adam, how much is she charging you?”
“Hey! I’ll have you know it’s her day off, and she asked me out. She said she’d love to go to a movie.”
I eyed him skeptically, “You’re taking a stripper to a movie?”
“Just because she dances with very little—and I mean, very little—clothing does not mean she is not a normal person like us.” He stopped, “Wait, I mean like me. You are far from normal.”
“Gee, thanks.” I bit into the roast beef and curbed the urge to moan as the tender meat filled my mouth.
“Besides, you’ve probably slept with more men than she has.”
I took another bite to keep from lashing out at him—because the truth was I probably had. I chewed the food slowly, and both of us looked up when the front door buzzer rang. Adam turned to me before he approached the customers, “I appreciate it, Ember, I really do.”
I nodded as I filled my mouth again. His words had cut close to reality. Why was it that I felt the need to sleep with so many men? Sometimes at least one guy a week? I set the sandwich down slowly. Damn, if I slept with one guy a week, that’s at least fifty guys in a year. I almost gagged as I tried to swallow the now-bitter-tasting meat. Had I really slept with that many guys?
The thought made me feel sick, and another thought brushed through my mind. When was that doctor’s appointment? I pulled out my cellphone and skimmed into my calendar. Damn, it was tomorrow afternoon. I forgot to tell Mr. Nickers. Aw, shit!
He had left just before lunch, stating he had a meeting and then he was taking his wife out to lunch and then shopping. I couldn’t imagine him doing such nice things. Crap, he was going to be pissed if I bothered him. I would have to risk his wrath tomorrow by telling him at the last minute. If I called him and bothered him with this, he would take my head off for sure.
I finished eating my lunch and went into our small kitchen area, pulling an ice pack from the freezer. I hobbled back to my desk and propped my foot up on a chair I’d pulled over. After I wrestled my sore foot out of my sneakers, I pulled off the sock and cringed. My pinkie toe and the one beside it were black and blue and as swollen as a river after a two-day storm. Damn.
By the end of the day, I was whipped. My foot throbbed no matter how much pain medicine I had taken, and all I wanted was to go home and collapse. I barely had enough energy to pick up food from the Chinese place around the corner from my apartment. I limped slowly down the last block, so damned thankful I was going to be able to get off my feet that a stray tear rolled down my face. I brushed it away and managed to hit myself in the face with my takeout bag. My eyes watered further as I grabbed my nose. Oh…my…god! Did I just break my nose?
I wiped under it but didn’t see any blood. I tried to blink back the blinding pain in futility. I sank down on the front step of my building and held my face in my hands. Dear God! This shit hurt!
Once the pain began to recede enough for me to see straight, I pulled myself up with the help of the rickety railing and lumbered up the final three steps.
The walk up the two flights of stairs to my apartment was almost worse than the four-block trek from the subway. With each step, not only did my foot throb, but my face did, too. Jesus, if I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no fucking luck at all.
I practically slammed my apartment door and fell to my couch, the one I’d gotten at the furniture store the day I was hired. It was the most god-awful uncomfortable thing I had ever sat on, but at that moment, I didn’t give a flying fuck. Within seconds, I was sound asleep, my food all but forgotten, lying on the floor at my feet.
