Page 16

Mindy

“Cow, no matter how much I love working with you, I have to quit.” Yeah, right. You’ve said that every night for weeks.

My bank account is the largest it’s ever been, sitting at fifteen thousand dollars. The greedy part of me wants to develop a nice nest egg. Maybe do one of those wild things Maddox suggested like save up for a place of my own.

What would it be like to have a home? A place that’s all mine? Not a dorm room, an apartment, or a room in Mom’s current flame’s house, but a home of my own.

Don’t dream about impossible things.

I don’t think I’ll quit this week.

“That’s an awfully serious face for someone playing with Cow.”

Canyon doesn’t even make me jump with his random visits anymore. “Cow and I were having a private conversation.”

He walks over. “I prefer to have those conversations with Petunia. She understands the world.”

I laugh at his silliness.

“How are you liking the job?”

“It’s good.” If I wasn’t working odd hours all the time, it would be even better. “How is it being the security around here?”

“Boring. Deathly boring ninety-nine percent of the time.”

“And the other one percent?”

“Fun.” His grin is positively wicked.

That wouldn’t be how I described fighting bad guys, but each to his own. “You haven’t practiced any lines lately.”

“Yeah, I know.”

That sounded more like I won’t ever again. “Bored?”

“Nah. I don’t flirt with another guy’s woman.”

Huh? “You’re nutty.”

“Sure. You should sleep more and eat something.” Canyon walks away.

“Men are crazy, Cow.” But food sounds good. At ten in the morning on a Saturday, the bakery has to be packed.

A break right about now would be amazing. Maybe on one of those benches in one of those parks.

With a cup of tea and something sugary and delicious. Pure decadence.

“See you later, Cow.”

***

I might never move from this spot.

Even the air smells sweet. That’s probably the bakery, but we’ll just pretend it’s a fantasy land for a few minutes. I dig into the bag and pull out a napoleon. The layers of cream and flakey dough pulled me in. And I don’t even care that I could have bought several days of food with what I spent just now.

Mmmm. Totally worth every cent.

“This is one of my favorite spots, too.” The crazy lady, I think they called her Louisella, has an all-new set of jewelry on.

“Hello.” I spray little flakes of dough across my jeans.

“Do you know I almost threw one of my knives at Jacko when he was painting this mural. That boy could try my nerves like no other.” She smiles and slides her feet out of her shoes and onto the soft-looking grass. “That boy still irritates me. Every time I try to match him up with someone, he disappears.”

I’m sitting in a small park talking to a crazy woman about Jacko’s, the multimillionaire, playboy artist, love life or lack thereof. “He isn’t just traveling.”

“Oh, I know. He’s creating art for the world to enjoy for generations and all of that nonsense. The boy needs to settle down.” She twists to face me. “Do you like artists?”

Uh oh! “I enjoy art.”

“Excellent.”

“But artists are a bit too much for me.” There’s no way I’m going to even pretend this woman could actually talk Jacko into dating me. Like I want a playboy for my one divorce.

“It’s good to know what you don’t want. Like that job of yours.”

“Um. Yeah.”

She leans in. “How is it going?”

“Fine.”

“You should quit your other job. You’re working too much.”

People keep saying that. “It’s fine.”

“Sure, it is.” She stands up. “Don’t worry. He likes a challenge.”

Huh? “What—” It’s too late. She’s gone, and I’m talking to thin air. That woman is very odd.

I’m not going to let her ruin my extravagant break.

***

Why am I holding this bag? It was a stupid idea to buy a pastry for Maddox.

He’s your boss.

Adonis gets treats for people all the time.

What’s the harm in bringing Maddox one measly napoleon? He’s bought me dinner a dozen times. And lost at chess each time. I shouldn’t be grinning at that thought.

It’s just a pastry. I knock on the open door to his office.

“Come in.”

See, I’m not the only one that works too much. He’s always here. “Hey.”

Maddox is at the back of his massive office with his head buried in paperwork and Hot Dog sliding around his desk.

What exactly does he do that he needs to work this much? If I was as rich as he is, I would sit at home and eat bonbons all day watching soaps.

And you’d be bored in ten minutes.

Well, maybe two weeks. Two weeks of absolutely nothing would be so nice.

I must have said that too quietly. “Hey.”

His head pops up. “Mindy. Is everything okay?”

Why do people keep asking that? “Just fine. I took a break and stopped by the bakery. You’ve got to try their napoleons.” Like a little kid waiting for praise that’s sure to never come, I hold out the bag. When was the last time I bought anything for anyone?

The fear in my belly shouldn’t be this extreme over a nothing dessert.

“You brought me a napoleon.” He stares at the little bag.

“Yeah. They’re the best.” Please take it. Even if you throw it out later. Just please take it. “Though you might want to eat it carefully, they’re very messy.” I spent a few minutes brushing off crumbs before I left the park.

He just stares at the bag.

Willing him to take the bag doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe I should have quit.

Maddox always seemed to enjoy dessert before.

All of the sudden, he moves towards me, taking the bag. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. See you later.” I turn to move toward the door.

“Wait, you aren’t going to eat with me and give me a chance to beat you at chess.”

It’s tempting… way too tempting. Especially with that smile of his. “Sorry. I have things to do this afternoon.” And I already wasted so much time. “Rain check.”

“Sure. Will you be back later this evening?”

Like I have time to miss an evening. “Yup.”

“Dinner then?”

“It’s a date.” Why did I just say that? He’s my boss. It’s just a break.

“See you then.”

Can I get the plague before tonight?

***

I need to do laundry more often. This is absolutely nuts. I drag the fourth load down to the basement.

Who decided that the laundry room in all apartment buildings need to be in the creepy basement? At least they could put up a few more lights.

Or fix the flickering ones.

Probably the same person who decided each load needed to take forty-five minutes. I move my third load into the dryer and put the fourth in the washer.

How am I going to have time to grocery shop and fold all of this?

I need less clothing… or more. That way I can procrastinate longer on this chore.

My phone rings. The caller id is a bit glitchy on this old phone.

Hopefully, it’s not one of the girls. My excuses for missing meetings have been getting a little old lately. I need to quit before I have to confess. “Hello.”

“Hey, Mindy.”

Waylon! “How are you?”

“Can we meet for coffee? I’m in Urbium near your place?”

He absolutely cannot come to my apartment. Waylon’s never seen it. He’d be horrified even though I love it. Also, you’re going to tell me something horrible, and I don’t have energy for that and to hear what you’re going to say about me living somewhere unsafe. “I have about twenty minutes in my schedule.” Not really, but I’ll have to find it. “Can we meet at the coffee shop on the corner of 9th in about ten minutes?”

“I’ll be there. And thanks, Mindy.”

Oh, this is bad.

Really bad.