Five Shadows

Chapter Five

The rest of my Friday was uneventful, thank goodness. No shadows, no pet adoptions, no tattoo knowledge I felt obligated to share. Just stupid phone calls from stupid customers and the other half of my wine bottle from the other night. I sighed happily in my loveseat. Eric sent a text that said, "Date with lawyer was great, thx for asking. (I hadn't.) Smart, hot, fun. And she seems cool too." I sent an eyeroll emoji. "Don't even tell me her name until date 5."

I sent Abby a text, "Eric tell you about his date? Want to put $$ on it? I give her 2 dates." She only sent back laughing emojis, as though I'd been joking. No news from Gwen. I didn't text her. I couldn't text her first every time. That was pitiful. I downed the rest of my wine quickly. I didn't want to have to keep track of texts with her. That was childish. Stupid. I never had before, why would I now? "Happy Friday! Have a good weekend!" I sent. Then I deleted it. Fake. She knew I hated exclamation points. I threw my phone beside me and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew it was Monday morning.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't have any shadowy visitors. I definitely didn't have tons of plans that made the weekend fly. I just... got wrapped up in some Netflix. I finally washed that egg pan. I ran out to pick up some frozen waffles Stuff like that. Then it was Monday again.

Carol is always moderately nice on Monday mornings. It's like she needs all weekend to pump herself up for some pleasantries, but she's depleted by 10am. "Did you have a nice weekend?" she forced out.

"Super. You?" I asked because my mom taught me manners, after all.

"It was very nice."

Headset on. Carol off.

I pulled my phone out and sent Gwen a salty text: "Hey Hollywood Barbie- would it kill you to take a break from clubbing to check in on the weekend?" I punched the send button. It would sting, but being left all alone in this city/job/life stung too.

**

Thursday rolled around and I half-expected another shadow to show. Like maybe they were on a weekly schedule or something, but nothing. Instead, I was making the three o'clock pot when Little Cut came up to. "It sounds like congratulations are in order!" Every now and then I could see with clarity the resemblance between him and his animal loving sister. Like now.

"Congratulations? Why's that?" I continued scooping coffee.

"This month is your Cutterversary!"

I continued scooping, but looked sideways at him. "Sorry?"

"Your Cutterversary! You've been here ten years!"

I shoved the pot under the drip and whacked the start button. "You're kidding me."

"Nope! Thank you for your service." He handed me a certificate and Amazon gift card. I did not point out it wasn't service since I was getting paid. I did not point out how very depressing this was. I did not point out how I did the bare minimum I could without getting fired. I definitely did not point out this was just the first job I found after culinary school. After my life was tossed in the shredder like last week's chair sales reports.

"Thank you." He stared at me staring at the coffee pot, so I repeated myself. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He cleared his throat. "I was also hoping I might get your opinion on something?"

"What's that?" He couldn't just walk over to the coffee station, remind me of everything I hated about life, then carry on the conversation like I wasn't holding all my emotions together with a ten-year-old, dried up glue stick.

"This." He pulled a business card out of his pocket. It read, "Don't Blink Tattoo Parlor." A little smile took me by surprise. "Safe?" he asked.

"I've actually never heard of them. So that's probably a good thing."

"I read all their reviews. Five stars."

"Sounds like a winner."

"Yeah. Okay. Just thought I'd better doublecheck with you." He smiled that moneybag smile and I returned it with my ten-years-at-a-tepid-jobgrin.