"I swear, Russell," Leah says as she looks through her cabinet. She looks at her cell phone, which has Russell on speaker. "I'm going to end up drowning in vodka pretty soon."
"Trust me, babe," he replies. "I'm almost there myself. Any more sassy customers, and I'm going to become an alcoholic."
She pulls on a pair of black leggings. "You already are an alcoholic."
"Alright, fine. I'll become more of an alcoholic. If this is too stressful for you, why'd you take part in the program in the first place?"
"Oh, you know. I thought taking care of a pain-in-the-butt criminal who likes self-harm would be a blast." She rolls her eyes. "Because I'm broke. They're paying a lot for this. How could I pass it up knowing I need the money?" She pulls out her favorite purple cowl neck sweater dress. After considering it, she puts it on.
"Babe, I'm not saying you're weak, but you aren't exactly cut out for a job like that."
"So what? Yeah, he's bigger than me, but I think I can kick him into shape."
"I don't know, Leah. Remember that girl in high school?"
"That doesn't count. She was on drugs. She took a swing at me for absolutely no reason."
He hesitates. "Alright, I'll give you that one. But this is a man we're talking about. He was in jail for violence and murder."
She concentrates on her reflection in the mirror as she pushes in her earrings. "Take it easy. That was only once."
"Yes. Once too many. Alright, I'll lay off for now. You know I'm just worrying about you."
"Thank you, Russell. I appreciate it very much." She finishes coloring her lips with the lipstick. "Okay, I have to go. I'll be leaving in a few minutes."
"Okay, babe. I'll see you at the restaurant?"
"Yes. Bye."
"Bye."
He hangs up.
She grabs the smallest purse she owns, and fills it with a tube lipstick, blush, her money, and her car keys.
Just as she's about to leave the room, she realizes she forgot one important thing. Her inhaler. She hates having to bring it. She tries her hardest to hide it, but she knows it's the worst in the wintertime. So she's forced to carry it wih her. She was born with asthma, and she hates it. She never grew out of it, even when she lost weight. When she wheezes around her co-workers, she blames it on smoking since she did it for three years. She'll fight to the death to hide it.
She takes it out of the bottom drawer of her dresser and drops it in her bag. She hurries out of her bedroom.
She pulls the door closed. She looks around for Chris; he's still in the bathroom. How long does it take a guy to get ready? she thinks. At least I got him his stuff this morning. Did I get him everything? Razors, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, clothes, unneccessary beer...
While Leah is busy with her mental list, Chris walks out of the bathroom and turns off the light.
She quickly glances at him. "Good, you're ready--" She looks at Chris once again.
He wore a gray V-Neck shirt that wrapped around him like it was made for him. His blue jeans fit him very well, and I'm grateful for that. His hair is brushed out, pushed back, and...shorter.
"Wh-What happened to your hair?" Leah says.
He shrugged. "I found some scissors in the bathroom. I wanted to cut my hair."
