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A man in a tailored navy suit approached with the kind of entitled confidence only a white man from old money could pull off. His gelled back hair was bleached as bright as his blinding teeth, his smile both easy and predatory.
I grabbed my mop, the bag from the trash can, and lastly the flash drive as I skated past Chad Sledge with a smile on my face.
“Who are—” he started.
I shook the bag of trash in his face.
“Step one is taking out the trash,” I said.
A moment later, from halfway down the hall, I heard him say, “Wait. Where’s the new bag?”
FIVE
MORGAN
Summer heat sandwiched everyone standing in line around the Lacuna building. The sun beat down like a sumo wrestler doing belly flops, while the blacktop mirrored that same oppression upward. A little more pressure, and we’d all be crushed.
But no one seemed to notice except for me.
Sure, the crowd was dripping with sweat, but enthusiasm clearly outweighed their discomfort. The energy buzzed, with loud voices and bodies constantly in motion.
Layana was no exception. In her low-cut black top, perfect ponytail, and sharp cat-eyeliner, she rubbed her hands together and bounced on the balls of her feet. She had that crazed sparkle in her eye that I loved, the one that said she was sure this production would bethe one.
“This is going to bethe one,”she said, just like she did before every single audition. “I’m getting my big break. I can feel it in my tail.”
She of course was referring to the orange and black striped cotton appendage attached to her ass by a plastic clip.
I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I agree. The universe owes you after the last…what has it been? Twenty turds?”
The line moved a few steps forward.
“Fifty-seven, but that’s neither here nor there,” she said. “I’m channeling my inner tiger. She’s fierce.”
“Tiger warrior.”
A tiny electronic noise sounded, barely audible in the roar of excited chatter. Layana glanced down at the overstuffed bag hanging from her shoulder.
Was that a ding? I swore I heard a ding. If it wasn’t her, maybe it was me. A rush of hope made me lighter as I scrambled to pull my phone from my pocket. I checked the screen.
Nothing. The teeny tiny spark of hope I’d mustered fizzled.
No job offerings from Delymo.
“You have an inner warrior, too,” Layana said. “Yours isn’t a tiger…she’s…hmm….”
“Don’t leave me hanging, what’s my inner warrior?” I’d bet money she’d say weasel.
She glanced away a moment, seemingly unsure. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I mean it in the absolute best way possible.”
“Then you shouldn’t start by sayingdon’t take this the wrong way.”
“Fair. But seriously.” She pressed her lips together, narrowed her bright blue eyes at me, and said, “Trash panda.”
I laughed. “Trash. Right. Not offensive at all.”
“Hear me out. Raccoons are super adorable. They’re smart. They’re scrappy.” She beamed at me and nodded.
“Thank you?”
