Page 13 of Smut Lovers

Chapter One

Violet

F uck my life.

Violet stared out the bus window and thought about what today's specials might be at Empire Valley Thai.

Then she remembered it was Monday, and they were closed.

Damn it.

She signaled for her stop. After several minutes of trudging she reached the steps to her apartment building. With a sigh of relief she let herself inside.

But then she discovered she couldn't use the freight elevator because the super wasn't in. The office door was locked with a hand-written note posted saying they were closed until tomorrow morning, and an emergency phone number.

Ugh.

That meant four flights of stairs between her and her apartment, the thought of which nearly made her cry.

Thank god I only took a carryon.

Normally she did her voiceover work in her makeshift studio set up in her apartment. But there were times, like this past week, where she was required to travel. It always took her days to recover on the other end.

She adjusted the straps on her backpack and started up. With her fibromyalgia and Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, taking the stairs was the extent of her exercise.

The good thing about her rooftop apartment was that it was the only rooftop apartment, it was far cheaper than any other apartment in the building because of its size and location, and she only had neighbors below her, not around her or above her.

Meaning she could usually record in peace during the day with minimal interruptions. Nobody else had access to the roof except the super or repairmen. It was all hers.

Living here meant she didn’t need a car, and it gave her easy access to shopping and her doctors.

It was a studio apartment that was less than 400 square feet and came with a small washing machine in the kitchen.

No dryer, but she had a retractable clothesline she used when the weather was bad, and she dried them on a rack outside when the sun was out.

With several stops to rest it took her nearly twenty minutes to make it to her door and let herself in.

After Violet dropped her things she headed to the shower to stand under the hot water. She hadn't felt this bad in a while, but then again, it'd been weeks since she’d ventured out further than just down the block, much less traveled. All of that had done her in.

She could have paid a taxi to bring her straight home from the airport, but that would’ve cost her over $100. While a deductible business expense on her taxes, it would be an immediate hit to her tight budget, and one she didn’t want to absorb.

God, I wish I lived somewhere else. But she knew the truth. If she lived somewhere else, it would cost her a lot more, and she'd need a car.

And those weren't viable options.

Violet knew she had it easy compared to a lot of people. Well, compared to a good chunk of the population. She also had it easier than if she hadn't escaped her family when she was younger.

She was thirty-one, the eldest of four sisters, and she was already an aunt several times over thanks to the cultish religious beliefs of her parents.

Her sisters were married off to men of their parents’ choosing—within fellow church families, of course—not long after they turned eighteen, and all three already had two kids each, with her next eldest sister currently pregnant with number three.

Blech .

Thankfully she’d earned her GED—because she and her sisters had been homeschooled—and, thanks to telemarketing and other part-time jobs she’d secured student loans for college.

That’s where she’d finally seen a campus doctor who told her no, her pain wasn’t in her head, and guided Violet’s journey to getting the long-overdue care she’d desperately needed.

Two years later, after winding her way through various government agencies, she had health insurance she could (barely) afford, and official diagnoses.

But more importantly she had freedom, and that was something she’d never sacrifice.

The voiceover work was a happy accident in her junior year of college, where she’d studied accounting. One of the teachers at the university had been one of her marketing calls, and she coaxed Violet into doing voiceover work.

She wouldn’t get rich from it, but she’d paid off her student loans far sooner than planned, as well as put a little into savings every month.

After her shower she pulled on a T-shirt and leggings, wrapped herself in her fluffy robe, and headed to the kitchen.

The small fridge had an even smaller freezer, but she always had at least two healthy vegetarian rice bowl meals she could microwave on occasions like this.

While it cooked she took her meds and did a quick groceries inventory.

I’ll need to go shopping tomorrow.

When she settled onto her sofa to eat she felt everything slam into her at once—pain, exhaustion—all of it. And she remembered she had a doctor’s appointment Wednesday morning that would sap what little energy she’d regain by then.

Then again, I have enough to get me through to Wednesday. I can order Thai on the way back and go another couple of days before I have to do my big shop.

The older couple who ran the restaurant had sort of adopted her, even though they barely knew her.

She usually did takeout, sometimes delivery, but the times when they’d convinced her to eat there with them, no matter how busy they were they always made time to sit and chat with her, ask about her health, and worry about her.

And they always undercharged her, no matter how much she protested.

Hell, they’re more like family to me than my own. She even called them Mae and Phor , at their insistence, which she’d learned was the equivalent of Mom and Dad.

Wednesday it was.

I’ll probably sleep half the day tomorrow anyway.