The Porn Identity

Chapter 1

            The hair on my arm began to prickle from the chill. I soaked it in, raising my arms in front of the vents and letting the glorious cool air dry out the marsh under my armpits. Not very ladylike—I know, I know. Of course, I couldn't give a damn about what was or wasn't ladylike. Not when it was over a hundred degrees in the shade and the groggy wet heat would choke you out if you even dared to breathe it in too deeply.

        It's July in Florida, goddamn it, and I'd literally rather die than go outside...

       ...but earlier I'd had to. My paper shipment came in—late I might add—and this particular driver, Dale, seemed immune to the heat since all he'd wanted was to chat me up under a cloudless sky instead of wheeling my damn boxes inside. A life of labor had left its mark on his body—his arms were roped with sinewy muscle and his skin had browned from baking in the sun.

       I'd stood to the side of his truck, trying to hide in the nonexistent shade of his trailer and failing. Sweat dripped down every shallow crevice the Lord had blessed me with. Exhaustion creeped in. What felt like days had been three measly minutes. I'd wiped my brow, then used that same hand to shield my eyes from a sun on the war path.

       I don't understand why he always needed to talk outdoors in hundred- and three-degree weather. It never seemed to bother him, but it sure as hell bothered me. But the man was oblivious to the comfort levels of others, no matter how hard I hurled death glares at him. I'm honestly not sure how he's survived this long without someone killing his over-talking ass!

       And I'm not saying I thought about it, but I'm not saying I didn't either...

       "I been thinkin' 'bout starting a power washin' business on the side." He'd said as I'd eyed one last box that belonged to me in the back of the truck.

       I'd inhaled a breath of hot air. "Uh huh." A bead a sweat slid down my back. The agony.

       "You know," he'd leaned his elbow casually against his dolly and I'd died a little on the inside while wiping yet another layer of sweat from the side of my neck. He didn't seem to notice. "My brother has a lawnmower business. It don't pay the bills but he gets a bit of pocket change. I could use a bit of pocket change."

       I'd wondered if they have AC in prison. Would it be worth it? "Couldn't we all?" I'd eased toward the door, hoping he'd take a hint.

        He did not. "...And I'm getting old. If I'm going to do something I should start."

      I forced a small smile and tossed him some of that southern hospitality. "You're not that old!" A courtesy. By my approximation, he was ancient at the least.

       He'd smiled and finally worked the dolly up the ramp and towards my final delivery. "You're right, Evie. Thirty-one isn't that old."

       Thirty-one? Goddamn, I thought that man was sixty-two! Even more reason to Stay. Out. Of. The. Sun! And as an aside, thank you God for this lovely dark skin. Barely a drop of sunscreen has ever touched me, yet at twenty-nine I still got carded when I tried to buy Wite-Out at Walmart. The true test of an unageing beauty.

       It took another five minutes for him to finish up. Afterwards I had pushed closed the back door, left my napkin, cup, and bag deliveries stacked in the hallway, and retreated to the wall mounted AC unit in my office to try and dry my sweat dampened tank top.

       Fuck summer.

       But bless the soul that invented air conditioning.

       I stood there letting the ice-cold air baptize me and wash away all thoughts of outside. I was born anew! The cool down took me from annoyed, cranky, and low on patience to...a little less so. Hey, I was cooler, but I'm still me.