CHAPTERTWO
CASEY
Casey was working at her job at the dry cleaner/laundromat, not a job she would have chosen for herself but a job, nonetheless. It paid her bills and gave her enough time to do what she wanted.
Friday afternoon, she was as busy as ever. Some people had last-minute outfits to have cleaned, and others brought in their clothes for the week. It was always busy on Fridays.
Today had been going just fine. She was working her station, keeping track of everything coming in and going out. It wasn't anything strenuous.
She stared at her crossword puzzle, or at least she had been trying to. It wasn't that she couldn't figure out the answers. She could have it done in fewer than fifteen minutes if she had looked. It was because some guy on machine four was staring at her.
He was a college jock who always seemed to be in when she was working over the past few months. She'd been able to ignore him most days because she kept herself busy, but today, she had all the machines going, and she had a solid ten minutes of break.
He had asked her for quarters ten minutes ago when he first arrived and stood there puffing out his chest. She'd been able to redirect the conversation when a customer walked in needing her outfits.
He was forced to return to his machine, where he sulked for five minutes.
But now, it was just her and him. Not that she was worried. She could handle herself, and the business had video cameras if he got handsy, but she didn't think it would get to that.
She'd watched him walk across the area, buff his muscles out, and stretch. She ignored him, focusing on her paper. Or she was trying to focus. He was making it hard.
But the longer she did, the more annoying he started to get. He started slamming the machine doors shut and pushing the laundry carts into the wall making loud banging noises. His clothes were done, so she knew he would be leaving.
But it was clear he wouldn't until she acknowledged him first.
She set her crossword down and crossed her arms. “Is your entire brain working, or just the idiotic part that thinks you can act like an animal in a business?”
He turned to her, seeming a little shocked she was talking. He stuttered words before he gave her a wicked grin crossing his arms to show his muscles through his shirt. “Was wondering when you were going to notice me. I've only been coming here for months.”
She rolled her eyes, already annoyed with the conversation. “Can I help you with something?”
He straightened his shoulders, trying to look deeper into her eyes. “Yes, I wanted to let you know that you are just breathtaking. And I really think me and you would look good together.”
That was his pick-up line? She could almost laugh at it. She scowled. “If you have nothing you need, please respect the space, or I'll have to ask you to leave.”
He frowned, confused. “That's it? Seriously? You're not going to give me your number?”
She crossed her arms. “Why would I do that? You're walking around here acting like a behemoth.”
He stammered. “Because I'm … look at me.” He waved his hands. “Women kneel for a date with me.”
She blinked and shrugged. But seeing she wasn't getting her point across, she decided to quote Plato. “'Wise men speak because they have something to say.'“ She gave him a smile. “'Fools because they have to say something.' Which are you exactly?”
He stumbled, clearly not understanding what she just said. It took him a moment before he obviously realized she had just called him an idiot. So, he turned to his clothes, grabbed them, and hurried out the door. She smiled, proud of herself.
But just as the door swung, it was pulled back open, and another customer walked into the building. The customer was holding a large bulging sack full of laundry, straining to hold it all.
She smiled, seeing it was Layla Roman. Her best friend just happened to work down the road at a hotel. The hotel offered to have customers' clothes dry cleaned, and Layla always brought them in. It was a nice kickback for the business.
“Do you need a hand?” she asked, walking around her counter, wanting to help.
Layla waved a hand, dropping the sack on the ground with a large thud. She wiped at her face. “No, I'm good.” She kicked at it, and she couldn't help but snicker. Layla was a petite woman, and she always felt terrible seeing her bringing in the laundry that was bigger than her. But then again, almost everything was.
“Here.” She gave her a hand, pulling the clothes to her counter. Layla sighed deeply, swinging herself into Casey's chair.
“God, that was heavy. Can you believe no one offered to help me?”
She shook her head, leaning onto the counter. “What's with the large load anyway? You guys don't normally have that much on a Friday.”