Page 6 of Toxic B!tch
Unknown: Nice to meet you. I’m Malik. Your words are nice, but that’s all they are…words.
Me: Boo. You are a Debbie Downer. Life is too short to be this glum.
An idea sparks, and I can’t resist.
Me: Wanna hear a joke?
Me: What kind of underwear does a zombie wear?
Malik: No idea
Me: Fruit of the tomb
Malik: Lol
Me: Are you smiling?
Malik: Actually yeah
Me: Good
I turnmy phone off and sink into the chaos of my show, letting the mindless drama wash over me. Ramon is off to Dodge Lanes, and I should be out there hunting him down. But tonight? Tonight, my bloodlust has dulled. He’ll live to see another day.
CHAPTER FIVE
MALIK
Waking up, I stretch before getting out of bed. My dreams were filled with different idealizations of Indigo. No idea what she looks like or hell, if she’s even reallyshe. But part of me just knows that whoever she is, she’s genuine and has good intentions.
Who else would continue to message a total stranger after a wrong number? Her little jokes and thoughtful comments give me the impression that she actually cares, and that idea warms me in a way I didn’t expect.
I brush my teeth and head to the kitchen for a quick bite. My phone pings from the bedroom as I grab my Pop-Tarts when they jump up in the toaster. I carry my morning treat to my room to grab it from the nightstand.
Indigo: Why don’t zombies eat clowns?
I grin, shaking my head at her silliness.
Me: Idk why
Indigo: They taste funny
I chuckle at another ridiculous zombie dad joke.
Me: I’m sensing a theme here. You like zombies?
Indigo: Duh. Flesh eating monsters who come back from the dead? Cool as hell.
We text back and forth as I get dressed for work. Bracing myself for another day filled with endless appointments, I head to my truck. I love my job; I really do. But pitching expensive dreams to homeowners who invariably turn me down? It takes its toll. I blame HGTV for warping everyone’s expectations—thinking they can remodel their entire home for twenty grand.
I pull my jacket tighter against the chill inside the truck cab and fire up the engine, the warmth of the heater starting to trickle through as I back out of the driveway. The morning air is brisk, biting at my cheeks as I crack the window. But today, I find a little brightness in my morning ritual, a spark ignited by a woman I’ve never met.
The first meeting is a bit of a flop, as usual. I present my ideas to a couple looking to renovate their kitchen, but I can see the skepticism in their eyes. I go through my spiel, trying to sell them the dream of a beautiful, functional space, but their minds are elsewhere.
I bid them goodbye and head out to my truck, ready for lunch. My mind buzzes with thoughts of Indigo as I drive to Taco Bell.
Indigo: What’s your favorite color?
Me: Purple.
