A Day in the Life of Asher

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          I am a prisoner of Eorthria; A planet colonized and long since abandoned by Earthans. I have been hidden away and forgotten. Just kidding, but I do have a very strict cousin who acts like my warden. He lives in fear that someone will discover that I'm an orphan with glow-in-the-dark eyes. One is unfortunate and the other is just weird, but neither are illegal in any part of Eorthria, I've checked.

          I wish I wasn't a morning person but my lacking social life does not require late nights. I'm keeping my eyes shut and the covers over my head to convince myself that I'm still asleep but it's not working – I am too smart for my own good. I have zero motivation to get out of bed today. It's Friday and I don't work on Fridays. Tex only allows me to work the weekday A.M. shifts, when the club is empty. Sometimes, when a weekend server calls out and no one else can cover and I beg and beg, I'm still not allowed to work weekends.

          "Asher are you awake?" Brox asks, his voice muffled from the hall outside my room.

          "Yes." I yawn, sliding to my feet to open the door. Now I'll never be able to convince myself that I'm sleeping.

          "Good morning, Brox."

          Brox took me in when I was a three. We tell everyone that he's my father and I was left on his doorstep. Being the byproduct of a one-night stand is less dangerous than being orphaned by his younger brother, or so I'm told. When I became an orphan my Aunt Meryal decided it would be a good idea to have me live with her free-spirited, occasionally alcoholic, bachelor brother. In hindsight; I'm not sure she still believes that. But I think Brox is a great guardian. He is fun and funny and loud and not like a parent at all but he tries his best. He acts like a twenty-five-year-old stuck in a forty-five-year-old man's body. The small wrinkles around his eyes and graying at his temples are the only evidence that he is not as young as he dresses.

          "Good morning my little Cupcake." He tried several other nicknames prior to 'Cupcake' but Tex felt any glowing related pet name was too prognostic. So, Brox asked if 'Cupcake' was generic enough for his liking; it was and it stuck.

          "Did you make me breakfast?" I tease. Brox can burn water. I've seen it.

          "Would you like the rest of my breakfast?" He asks with furrowed brows and holding out a half empty, or a half full to an optimist, glass of vodka and tomato juice.

          "No, thank you. I prefer my meals to be less inebriating."

          "Good to know," he says relieved. "Anyhow, to the point, I need your help in the club tonight. Keri broke her ankle tripping over one of her kid's toys and Dean is having a tooth pulled and will be self-medicating with whiskey all night."

          "Did you run this by Tex?" I ask.

          "I am your guardian, not Tex. I may not always be sober or available or the best example..."

          "Is there a 'but' coming?" I interrupt. "I'm starting to feel that the trust of my care and keeping was greatly misplaced in you."

          "But I am there when it really counts and I have the last word on what you can and can't do." We both know that's a lie. "Besides, you are almost an adult and you need the experience. Plus, I will be leaving early for a card game, I have no other options and you work for free."

          He starts to walk downstairs when he turns and says, "But just to make things easier for you and me, Cupcake, let's hold off on mentioning this to Tex until tonight."

          I go for a run after breakfast, which I managed to make without liquor or burnt water. Running is one of the few things I am allowed to do without a required escort, as long as I stay on the safe and strategically planned route Tex plotted out for me. Before I leave I get an unexpected call from Meg. Meg was handpicked by Tex to be my one and only friend. When I was eleven Tex set me up on a blind-playdate after Aunt Meryal insisted that I needed to spend time with someone my own age.

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