Clear

Clear: Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Nom de Guerre

I was glowering from the kitchen, watching my oblivious pet steal my pillow on the ground. I had to wonder how long I was going to live in an unpacked wasteland. It still hadn't even been a week, and I was already tired of sleeping on a pile of blankets next to the bed that didn't belong to me.

I still couldn't believe that this was my life. In a matter of months, I've been the personification of "one step forward, two steps back".

An old novelty Disney cup from my childhood was clutched in my hand. Looking down into it, I could see that my dessert wine was running low and I swallowed the last swig of it before snatching the rest of the bottle. I shouldn't be wasting my money on wine and spirits, but at a time like this, I needed a bit of both to get through my days.

"Fuck it," I mumbled, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

My momma's words had resonated with me since that morning, but they were having a difficult time trying to stick. I go to work, and I can't be myself. Then I come home, and I can't escape into myself either. There was no one to talk to who I felt comfortable enough to share what insanity was going on in my life anymore, and I can't seem to view this as anything but self sabotage.

Like usual.

But for some reason, I felt different when I was around Mr. Leoné. I wasn't sure if it was confidence or unpurified anger that was driving me to act. The more I tipped the neck of the bottle, the more I kept thinking about the look on his face from the French restaurant. He looked so blank in the face. In fact, I'm not sure if he had looked at me after I told him what I was feeling, and I know for sure that he didn't look at me at all on our ride back because I was staring at him the entire time.

Everything was a good sign; he finally got my drift. He gets that I know what he's doing and yet I'm still working for him...

And the logic train always crashes and burns right here.

I glanced at the time. It was just after 7PM. It wouldn't be another twelve hours until I had to care about any of this crap again, so I was going to revel in that slight peace and be half-obliterated if I had to be.

Wobbling from the kitchen, I neared my bed– or rubble of sheets– and loomed over my sleeping cat. If only I could switch places with her and sleep peacefully while giving zero fucks about everything but snacks, meals, and a shit box that someone else cleans for me.

Then suddenly it clicked.

"I'm gonna binge watch Intervention!" I cheered proudly. "Or Swamp People..."

But before I could make a confirmation, I turned toward the sound of latches retracting in the distance. Confused, I twisted my face and walked into the line of sight of the door. I must have been incredibly drunk because I was nowhere near the door when it opened by itself.

Maybe I need to lay off the nectar for a minute...

Or it was opened by someone that just wasn't me.

"Who's there?!" I snapped, feeling the fright tingle through my body.

I didn't intend to start sobering up this quickly, but I was on my way when I saw the future landlord yanking the key from the handle before doing his best not to slam the door behind him.

"Do you live here?!" I screeched. "Get the hell out of my apartment!"

It was then that I noticed that he hadn't set his eyes on me since he intruded. They were looking at the floor when he began, "Not until I say something, Ms. Young."