Calm your tits, Felicity. 

“Do you still talk to anyone from high school or college?”

“Not really. Just my best friend Erin.”

“Erin?” I can see her tip her head. “I don’t remember her.”

“Too bad. She’s pretty awesome.”

Mindy giggles. “High school was so long ago. And that’s good you’re liking it here. So funny to think we both ended up here!”

“Hilarious,” I say dryly. Hilarious in a way that this is proof the universe hates me. I scoot closer to the computer.

“Are you married?” Mindy asks. She can clearly see the lack of a wedding ring on my finger.

“Nope.”

“Oh. I got married young, a few days after I turned twenty-one. I just couldn’t say no!” She laughs like it’s actually funny. “So you have a boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, must be nice to do whatever you want then.”

“It is.” I yawn and wish I’d stopped for more coffee. I’d downed my second cup on the way here. Why did Mindy still feel the need to put me down in a passive-aggressive way? Mom would tell me it was some deep psychological issue and she was actually insecure. While I did believe that, I also believed some people were just assholes, and Mindy fit that bill.

The front door opens, and an older couple comes in to buy a painting. Mindy gets up and greets then, then disappears into the gallery.

Adios, bitchachos. 

I work in silence for a while, and figure out pretty fast that the computer is loaded with cookies. The problem isn’t a virus, but a computer so old it belongs in a museum. I can’t even install the new protection they bought. I run a few updates and look around for the bathroom. That coffee goes through me fast. I tap my nails on the desk, hating that I have to ask Mindy where the bathroom is, though it’s not like she doesn’t use it herself.

The couple comes back to the front, and Mindy rings them up using an old-fashioned looking register. I hear her say the painting will be delivered tomorrow morning since it was too big to fit inside their car. They write her a check for over a grand and leave with smiles.

“Are you done yet? Did you get rid of the virus?” Mindy asks before the door closes behind the old couple.

“You don’t have a virus,” I tell her. “The issues you described can be fixed with updating your computers.”

“Can you do that?”

“Not on this one. There isn’t enough memory to support the update to the newest version of Windows.”

“Can’t you fix it?”

I put on a pleasant smile. “Yes, in theory. This whole computer is really old though. I think it’d be better in the long run to consider a new one.”

Mindy purses her lips. “That’s up to Ben. He’s very stuck in his ways.”

Without seeing Ben, I assume he’s older. And probably gay. This gallery is way too chic to come from someone straight.

“The register is slow for credit cards too,” Mindy adds.

That’s a whole other issue. “I don’t think this building is wired for high-speed internet,” I say. “Upgrading can help with that too. Really, you gotta stay current with everything to get the fastest speed.”

“I’ll let Ben know.” She smirks. “And I’ll let him know you weren’t able to do what he hired you to do.”

“Well, he hired the company to create a state-of-the-art site that is only compatible with a new operating system.”

Her lips go into a thin line. “I’ll let him know.”

I don’t move, assuming she’s going to go talk to him now and then I can be on my way and find a damn bathroom. My bladder is not happy right now.

“I guess I’ll have him call your company then. I said he’s busy now, remember? He does not like to be disturbed. And he’s not going to be happy to hear you can’t fix this.”

I press my lips together and smile. “All right then.” I scoot the heavy chair away from the desk and stand, gathering my things. Someone else comes into the gallery, and I’m able to sneak out without saying any sort of awkward goodbye to Mindy. I call Cameron as I hurry across the street to a coffee shop. I don’t really need another coffee now, but they have a bathroom and my bladder is raging at me.

“Hey, boss man,” I say, holding the phone between my head and shoulder as I sit on the toilet, and quickly explain the situation.

“Are you in the bathroom?” Cameron asks when the toilet flushes.

“Uh, no.”

“Sure.” I can see him rolling his eyes. “And don’t worry about it. I’ll call later and get it sorted out.”

“Thanks,” I say and wash my hands. “Need me to come back?”

He hesitates. “Not really. Just act like you’re still busy over there.”

I smile and feel some of the stress melt off. It might not be so bad of a day after all.

CHAPTER FOUR

I’ll learn to go to bed at a reasonable hour someday, right? Maybe next year, when I’m older and wiser. But not now, when staying up playing games trumps sleep until the sun creeps up then I scramble to bed, trying to force myself to sleep before my alarm goes off in a few short hours.

I drag ass through work the next day, crashing when I come home. I wake up at nine-thirty, eat dinner, do a bit of cleaning, then take a book onto my small backyard patio and reading until mosquitos force me inside. The long nap makes it hard to fall asleep, so after using Mr. Silent Knight once or twice (or three or four times—hey, a girl has needs), I get out of bed to lay out the fabric for my costume and watch just one Harry Potter movie.

And then I’m dragging my ass into work Wednesday morning, just as tired as the day before. Having fallen asleep after I got out of the shower, I twisted my hair up into a bun as I walked from the parking lot into work. I did my makeup at stoplights, and had my favorite R2D2 tank top on under a white button up. I put off doing laundry and had been forced into the section of my closet I refer to as my “sexy librarian clothes,” which isn’t helping my issue with the top button of my shirt continually popping open.

“Look at you,” Cameron says as I put my lunch in the fridge in the break room.

I let the fridge door swing shut and give him a look. “I know. I overslept and look terrible.”

“I’m thinking the opposite,” he says. “You are rocking that tight skirt.”

“Really?” I turn my head to look at my ass. “I think it looks double its size.”

“Maybe I’m biased,” Cameron starts. “Or not biased, I guess, since I don’t find you sexually attractive.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly.

“Oh shut up,” he spits back. “I don’t find any woman sexually attractive, not with your breasts and vaginas.” He shutters. “Been there, tried that. So not my thing. But I do know you look good dressed up, by anyone’s standards. I don’t know why you don’t dress up more often.”

I hold my hand up and rub my fingers with my thumb, reminding him dressing up for work doesn’t benefit me. It’s not like I’ll do a better job if my skirt hugs my ass than if my pants bag around my cheeks.

He rolls his eyes and puts cream cheese on a bagel. A few other people shuffle in, grabbing donuts and fresh coffee before starting the workday. I make small talk and eat a donut, yawning the whole time, then retreat to my desk, talking with Mariah as I work. I keep Facebook open, chatting with Erin as I answer emails and convert codes for clients, and then help Mariah with a snag she hit in one of her projects.

At lunch time, Cameron comes and takes a seat at the table next to me. He doesn’t have food, or his phone.

Crap.

“Unless you have Comic Con tickets, no,” I say.

“A little presumptuous, aren’t you?”

I stab a strawberry with my fork. “Am I wrong?”

He sighs and laughs. “No. I just got off the phone with that gallery.”

“Not doing it,” I say. He doesn’t know about Mindy, and I really don’t want to bring it up.

“On come on. The owner bought all new computers. Brand new and ready to be played with.”