Concealed Force

Chapter 25

An hour later Laura was back in the laundry room with Alyssa, surrounded by baskets of sheets and towels that hadn't yet been sorted.

"You sure you don't mind finishing this, princess?" Alyssa asked as she dumped the last basket of washing at Laura's feet. "There's stuff to put in the dryers too."

"Of course. It won't take long, and I owe you for earlier, don't I?"

"That's true, I guess. And I never turn down extra time in the sun." She put a cigarette in her mouth, and lit it, blowing her first lungful of smoke at Laura, because even when they were getting on she had to be antagonistic. Especially when they were getting on.

"Can I have one of those?" Laura asked, rather than reacting.

"Serious?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I feel like Reid's into the angel type. He won't want me corrupting you."

"I think he's corrupted me enough, don't you?"

She smirked. "I guess one won't hurt. You even know what to do with it?"

"Yeah. Only, can you light it for me?" She'd never smoked a real cigarette, but she'd used stage ones for a play, how hard could it be?

"Sure." Alyssa passed her the cigarette and clicked her lighter as Laura moved toward the flame.

Drawing deep, she had to suppress a cough. "Thanks," she said, airlessly, letting the smoke curl out of her mouth.

She watched through tearing eyes as Alyssa pulled herself up through the skylight, and disappeared on to the roof. Then she coughed and took a few sips of orange soda and tried again. It was just as bad the second time. She propped the cigarette on an ironing board's metal rest, and sorted colors and whites into separate tubs, trying not to talk to herself while she did it, trying not to look like she was psyching herself up for something.

Once everything was separated she took a reluctant drag of the cigarette to keep it lit, gagging at the taste, and shoved the washing into machines, adding detergent and choosing programs. She chose them carefully despite knowing it didn't matter, if she shrank a sweater no one would ever know.

Then she turned her attention to the dryers on the other side of the room. They were empty, and Laura loaded one with wet clothes. That was the end of her task. This was the moment of truth. She could stub that cigarette out and pull herself up on to the roof and be one of the girls, chat and drink for the rest of the evening.

But then a young police officer would probably die.

Shaking slightly, she puffed again on the cigarette, and then pulled a pile of clean already-dried socks out of a basket on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Bundling a few in, she made a nest for the lit cigarette. Then she gathered lint from the filters of all the other dryers, squishing it in her palms. It was dry and fluffy and flammable, and she dropped it lightly on top of the cigarette. Then she slammed the dryer door and started a long hot cycle. The machine began to whirr.

She waited a few moments to compose herself, brushing her hands of excess lint and watching the cigarette tumble about in the improvised tinder. She was perfectly calm when she climbed on to the hamper and joined Alyssa on the roof.

There was the usual smell of coconut lotion and cigarettes. It was already a combination she was half-fond of. Tara was lying on her stomach and flipping through a magazine, and Vicky was seemingly asleep as usual. She liked this female-only space, she realized. She was going to miss it.

"That was fast," Alyssa said.

"I'm very efficient." She dusted her hands off dramatically, a tiny bit of lint floating off into the sky.