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“It’s just another day, and I don’t need a damn thing,” I reply.

“One day, big brother, you’ll get the mottowork hard, play harder, not work hard until you’ve got one foot in the grave instead of getting your dick wet.”

“My goddamn dick is off limits. Just because I’m not fucking everything with two legs, that doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of myself.” No limits. Alejandro has no limits as to what he’ll do or say. The boy—yes, boy, even at the age of thirty—has zero filter or zero regret. It doesn’t mean I’m judging him by his playboy antics. It’s who he is.

“Alright, I get it. Talk later, brother.” Alejandro finally understands I’m ready to get off the phone.

“Later.” I hit the end button, place my phone on top of my desk. Now that things are settled, I can get through the hundreds of emails that have suddenly appeared in the last twenty minutes. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about what Alejandro has up his sleeve. The man is a nut job. One Christmas, when our grandmother was still around, God bless her soul, Alejandro took it upon himself to pick out his own gift to give to our Abuela. She mentioned wanting a new nightgown. Well, let’s just say he got her a nightgown, one from a high-end lingerie shop, going as far as to buy her a pair of thongs to go with it as a joke. Here she was, nearing ninety years old, and she opens her first present and pulls out the lacy fabric. Thankfully, she was a good sport, laughing and then holding it up to her body and asking if this is what Alejandro looks for in a woman he takes to bed. We laughed. Mom rolled her eyes, walking away and praying for something none of us could understand. That’s why when Alejandro says he has a present for one of us, there’s always cause for worry.

THREE

Cadence

It’s beenthree days since I left Rachel’s office. After her talk, I assumed I’d have gotten a call by now. That hasn’t happened, and I don’t know if I should be worried or thankful. The amount of butterflies that’s been swirling inside my stomach has made it to where I’m tossing and turning in bed at night. The sushi and wine I purchased at the grocery store were the last full meal I could eat without feeling like I was going to throw up. It didn’t help that when I called Hendrix, the one person I confide in the most even if it is few and far between, she didn’t answer the phone, and I’ve yet to receive a phone call back or a text. I’m hoping she’s holed up with Madden, or maybe she’s out of town with little to no service for work. That’s what happens when she forgets to tell her cell phone provider she’ll be out of the country.

That leads me to the here and now, sitting at my computer at my daytime job, going through the monotonous work of calling patients to confirm their appointments for Monday. You would think they’d have a phone service that would send out calls automatically, or even an email or text, but that’s not the case. I guess I should be thankful, because good job security and all that pizazz.

“Hey, Cadence, are you doing anything this weekend?” Our nurse on staff, Leah, who usually keeps to herself, asks me. I almost do a double-take, wondering if she’s talking to me, except Leah said my name. Okay, when I say she keeps to herself, I mean that she and the doctor I work for are knocking boots. Both of them are married, and while I don’t agree with it in the least, I also look the other way, keep my distance, doing what I need to get done, then go home. Those two can deal with the repercussions of their sins.

“I’m not sure yet. What about you?”

“Doctor Manning and I wanted to invite you out to dinner tomorrow night.” I’m pretty sure my eyes are bulging out of their sockets, wondering if Leah can see that or if maybe I’m hiding my surprise better than I thought.

“That’s really nice. Is it for everyone in the office?” Trying to figure out if there’s any wiggle room to get out of the offer.

“No, only Doctor Manning and I.” Well, if that doesn’t throw up some serious red flags.

“Oh, can I get back to you? I’m working on the weekends now, and seeing as how I’m on-call, it might coincide with my other job.” I don’t elaborate. Leah is throwing up all kinds of red flags, and I want absolutely nothing to do with them. Why would I ever want to go out with Doctor Manning and Leah? Not after walking in on them in the supply closet. Ugh. I was astonished, scared, worried I’d lose my job. A lot of people don’t realize that even in a medical office setting where there’s more than one doctor, more nurses, assistants, and receptionists, the little peons like me get little to no say even if you’re not at fault. That’s why when I saw the two of them in more than a friendly hug, more like a clench, witnessing Doctor Manning’s hand in a place I’d rather never see and hearing the noises they were both making, I backed away in an attempt to leave with little to no noise. Of course, life would be so much better if I never saw that. The meeting after was awkward. Sitting there nodding my head in front of the two of them wasn’t my idea of fun. In fact, I’d rather have a Brazilian wax job. After that, I learned to keep to myself, going as far as not to step foot in the back unless absolutely necessary.

“Sure, we’d like for you to come if in any way possible.” I don’t care if I don’t ever get a call back from Rachel. This job might pay the bills and provide benefits, but I have got to find a new job, and fast.

“I’ll try, thank you.” Operation Shut This Conversation Down is in full effect. “I’m going to finish up these calls and head out.” Leah must get the memo that I really do need to get my work finished.

“Okay, hopefully, you can make it.” Strange. That’s the only adjective to describe the conversation. It also gives me a full-body shiver, and not in a good way.

FOUR

Cadence

I never flew outof work so fast. All I wanted to do was get home and take a shower to rinse off the ick. The plan was to leave quietly, which was what I did. The other part of my schedule was to leave a few minutes early seeing as how I get to work thirty minutes early every single day. That didn’t happen. I got stuck on the phone with a patient asking about her outstanding balance and if the doctor would still see her. It took twenty minutes of reassuring her that as long as she made payments, even if it were only five dollars a month, we wouldn’t turn her away. Doctor Manning may be an absolute imbecile when it comes to his personal life, but I can wholeheartedly say that he’s amazing with patients.

I’m just now walking into my tiny studio apartment, an hour past the time I left work. It doesn’t matter what time you leave; there’s always traffic. Fridays are ten times worse in Los Angeles, but especially at six o’clock, which made it one hundred times worse. I let out a puff of breath, loving my safe haven of a home that I made in the small space. When you walk in, there’s a living room to the left. It's so tiny that there’s only room enough for a couch, coffee table, television, and a stand beneath my favorite thing in my place, probably. There is nothing better than sitting on the couch, relaxing, and binge-watching a crime documentary series. I drop my bags at the front entrance, leaving them where they fall. It’s not something I do a lot, mainly because it’ll get too cluttered, and then I’ll want to throw everything out and start over. An option I can’t afford, that’s for sure.

“Home sweet home.” I kick off my shoes as my hand moves to my claw clip, allowing the long, thick tresses to fall to my lower back. As much as my hair is up in some kind of updo of sorts for work, I may as well cut it off, except I don’t think I ever could. I need to grab my phone, both of them, because Rachel told me it’s smart to keep my work and personal life separate; plus, she handed it to me at the beginning of the interview and told me to make sure it’s on me at all times, respond with a yes or no but to also not say no too many times, or I would get pushed further down on the list. So, I pull both out of the bag I plopped on the floor, digging for them until my hand wraps around the electronic devices, and check them to see if there are any messages. My personal phone has one from Hendrix.

Hendrix: Hey, sorry, life is kicking ass and taking names. I’ll call you this weekend so we can catch up. Love you!

I type out my own message, happy she’s staying busy with her life, finding happiness, and hopefully, I’ll be getting an invitation to a wedding soon.

Me: Hey, don’t even worry about it! Love you back <3

There’s nothing else that needs to be said, and no one else called or texted today while I was at work, not that I’d answer while at the office, and with the way I practically ran out the door as soon as I was done with my tasks, I didn’t bother checking it. Then there’s the fact of California being a hands-free zone while driving, thankfully. I couldn’t even imagine the traffic if there were another reason for an accident; plus, who wants a ticket for holding a phone? Not me. The need for another bill is something no one needs, especially me.

I’m placing my personal phone on the kitchen bar that also serves a table where I eat my meals if I’m not lounging on the couch, when my new work phone vibrates. I do a dance seeing as how I wasn’t prepared for the call and the phone is trying to jump out of my hand, worrying that if it drops, the screen will shatter. Clearly, I’m still shaken up about earlier. Leah really threw me for a loop, then add in the fact that I’m hearing fromDates for Hire.The screen comes to life when I finally manage to locate it.

Dates For Hire:9 o’clock tomorrow night. Are you available?

I take a minute. Okay, fine, I take a few minutes trying to figure out if I should pinch myself, ignore the text, or reply. I go through the gamut of emotions swirling in my stomach—hopefulness, worry, and finally acknowledgement that it’s now or never if I ever want to get my own business off the ground and running. In my infinite amount of spare time, I’ve been going to the flea markets near and far away, looking for vintage jewelry sellers are trying to get rid of for a song. My goal is to get my website started, social media on point, be successful enough that I won’t have to work two jobs and do what I love. That’s why I’m taking the chance, responding before I can second-guess myself yet again.


Tags: Tory Baker Erotic