Shift

The Girl

Cold water trickled down Scarlet's wrists as she splashed her face with it, the droplets drawing lines down her arms to her elbows. She rubbed the smudged, black makeup from her eyes. In the mirror, she sighed heavily as she surveyed the face in front of her. The frizzy, blonde Mallory Knox wig tugged uncomfortably as she pulled it off and let her dark tresses fall out around her freckled face.

Scarlet patted her face with a rough blue towel that smelled like mildew and discarded her sweaty, wrinkled tank top and mud-spattered jeans onto the floor of the bathroom. A faint beeping sound echoed from the kitchen, signaling the completion of the hot pot of coffee she was anticipating.

She wrapped herself in an off-white bathrobe and stepped into a pair of fuzzy slippers as she hurried toward the bitter, warm beverage she craved on mornings like these. As she approached the small, messy kitchen, she stopped. Her jaw fell open and she let out a small whine, mourning the coffee that had brewed itself all over the countertop and onto the kitchen floor.

"Stupid piece of crap coffee maker," she said to no one. "I guess that's what I get for buying kitchen appliances out of a guy's trunk behind a bagel shop." She pulled open a nearby drawer and extracted fistfuls of tattered old hand towels, washcloths, and oven mitts, throwing them into the puddle of coffee on the floor. Sighing, she removed the fuzzy robe and threw it into the mess, too.

Her clean pair of jeans were not actually clean, but less filthy than the ones she'd partied and slept in the previous night. The denim was stiff and cold, and she shivered as the button touched the skin of her stomach. She pulled on a long-sleeved thermal shirt, followed by a thick sweater, and went hunting for a pair of socks, finding two, though they didn't match, beneath her bed. She sniffed them before shrugging and pulling them onto her feet. Her boots were by the door, and her hat and scarf were strewn across the back of the crooked recliner in the corner of the living room. Her jacket was wadded up in a ball on the seat of the chair. Scarlet took a deep breath and stepped out into the biting wind.

Before leaving her porch, decorated in orange lights, carved pumpkins, and rubber bats, she swiped yet another "yard maintenance notice" off of the front door and crumpled it into a ball. Her heavy black boots crunched across the frosted mounds of grass and she tossed the wadded up piece of paper into her neighbor's yard.

She walked three blocks in the gloomy, gray morning light, her hands tucked in her pockets and her scarf pulled up over her nose. Finally, she reached Brew Boys and entered the front door with a gust of cool wind.

The warm, earthy scent of fresh coffee hugged Scarlet as she entered. The lights were dim, and music played softly in the tiny café. Sure, it was a busted little shoebox of a place, but it felt like home to her.

"Morning," said Will from behind the counter. "Scarlet?"

"Hey, Will," she said. She unwrapped the scarf from her face and shed her jacket and hat, dumping them onto a stool at the counter.

"You know today is your day off, right?" he asked.

"Yeah." Scarlet chuckled at her own misfortune. "This is the last place I want to be right now, no offense. But my coffee pot decided to empty its entire contents onto my kitchen floor instead of into my mouth this morning, so... here I am."

Will set a steaming cup of black liquid on the counter before she'd even sat down. Scarlet wrapped her hands around it and inhaled the steam with a grateful smile.

"It's on the house," Will said. He winked.

"Thanks." She lowered her lips to the edge of the cup and blew gently before taking a small sip. She let out a soft moan and closed her eyes as the coffee slid down her throat and into her stomach, warming her whole body from the inside. "I don't care what they say about you, William, you make a damn good cup of coffee."