Page 27 of Blood & Kisses

“Is everything okay,” she asks, pulling grimy gloves off. “Is everything okay at home and in class?”

I frowned in confusion because she’d never paid much attention to my personal life before, and this was the first time I’d been late since I started this job. Although I had changed my shift several times when they got in the way of classes, “Yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

“It seems out of character for you, Rae, when you’re always so studious,” she inquires, slightly perplexed. Again, I wonder why she is making a big deal out of it when this is the first time this has ever happened.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” I wipe the dirt off my knees as she glances around to see how many are around. My heart sinks. Is she about to sack me and doesn’t want anyone to overhear? “Please, I need this job. You can’t sack me.”

She explains, “Oh, no, I not going to sack you, but I have to give an official warning-”

“I swear it won’t happen again,” I beg. “I love this job. Even in winter and when it’s raining, I still show up on time and work my butt off.”

“Ah, sorry,” she shows me her palm to hush me. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I didn’t make myself clear. I’m giving you an official warning for an incident that occurred yesterday. While I know you weren’t on duty, we have a reputation to uphold,” she clarifies.

I scratch my head in confusion with my dirty glove. “What am I being accused of?”

She hesitates for a couple of beats as if what she’s about to say is difficult. “It was an interlude in the bushes by the kiosk between you and another student.”

“Oh my god,” my cheeks burn. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“There were several witnesses who identified you and the male student, but it’s not my business; it doesn’t look good for your future prospects in employment, particularly if you expect me to recommend you to future employers,” she states flatly. “That happened yesterday and this morning; you were late, so let’s hope you don’t make a habit out of it.”

“I promise I won’t,” I’m completely apologetic. “Honestly, I am deeply embarrassed by my behavior.”

She shrugs. “You’ve been warned, and I won’t speak about it again.”

“Thank you,” I gasped, seeing my life dissolve before my eyes. I need this job to pay the rent in my little apartment, run my car, pay for food, etc. Although my expenses have decreased since moving into Gabe’s house, I still need financial independence.

After she moves away, I violently attack weeds with my trowel to fight off the shame of being caught by my boss. Sweat pours down my neck as surrounding sounds bounce about my ears, ignored.

I come to the end of the shift but work another thirty minutes to make up for being late. I’ll miss class, but I can ask my tutor to send me the notes. As I pull clover wedged between the succulents, I’m reminded that I have to pick up my herbarium assignment from my apartment to work on back at Gabe’s house, which is due soon.

I imagine my little apartment stinks to a high hell of urine, and I really should spend some time cleaning up the mess left there by the bad people. I stop myself when I realize that I could also be categorized as a bad person, and that’s a weird concept.

After working the extra thirty minutes, I’m drenched in sweat from the midday heat and head to the gymnasium next to the Science School to shower.

The stadium has a casual basketball game, and the air conditioning is in full force; it’s cooler there than outside. I turn down the hall toward the locker room and shower area and spot one of Cormac’s coaches, wearing a navy polo shirt with the Torres uni sports logo, speaking quietly to a man wearing the same shirt.

They step aside for me to slide past, but I catch Lyons's name mentioned and intentionally drop my bag on the floor to dither.

“Rumors are circulating among the girls on the team that it was his wife,” Cormac’s coach states quietly to the man.

The man replies, “I don’t listen to rumors, but she’s got a good motive.”

“Because he cheats on her?” she replies bluntly.

He grunts, uncomfortable with the suggestion, “Well…I don’t know about that. He has several investments and a good nest egg for his family. Anyway, are you happy with the team going to the Nationals?”

“Reasonably…” she answers, but a group of strikingly tall guys walk down the hallway toward the locker rooms, and I take my leave from eavesdropping to wash off my sticky sweat.

As the water covers my naked body, I think of Lyon’s wife, who met only once at the swim team dinner. She knew. Without a doubt, she knew that her husband was cheating on her; I just wonder if she knew about the sexual assaults and bribery. I hope she has a good alibi to remove her from the crime scene.

By the time I leave the locker room, the swim coach is gone, and I rush to my next class in the Botany school, where not a single whisper or conversation is about the swim coach's death. Nobody in this part of uni cares about sports or would know Lyons if they even smacked into him. It’s a refreshing place amongst plants and botany enthusiasts, where the topic of conversation is pruning and propagating.

After class, I drive to my apartment building and park on the road rather than in the parking garage for safety reasons. It’s strange being back after everything that’s happened and I realize how closed-in this area is compared to Gabe’s house on the lake. The apartment is tiny, and I think the block across the road is grey upon grey, with car exhaust pollution to top it off.

Fear claims the base of my spine as I step into the elevator and press the button for my floor. Yet again, the thought occurs to me that I should’ve brought my gun. All it takes is a distracted moment or a wrong turn, and I can be lying on the floor with blood streaming from a bullet wound in my stomach. Whoever broke into my apartment was either looking for something or was trying to scare me. It worked.

But I can only think of three people who would arrange this, and thanks to the boys, one of them is dead. The other two are on my list and in that photograph.

---