Liberty Begins (The Liberty Series) by Leigh James Page A

trudged back into work. So I could confront him with it, I’d brought the back pack. I had shoved my glasses, ruler, stilettos and clean work underwear into it. There wasn’t much room left because of all the other items John had packed.
    “Hey girl,” said Tracey, as I started listlessly pulling my outfit out of my locker.
    “Hey,” I mumbled.
    “Aw, Liberty! What’s the matter?” she asked, and plopped down in the chair beside me. Tonight Tracey was wearing her “Charlie’s Angels” look. Feathered bangs, hair parted down the middle, frosted lipstick, pink satin shorts with glitter hearts on the back pockets and a tube top so tiny that it looked like she would pop out of it. Which of course was the point.
    “You look cute,” I said, and sniffled as I started to put some foundation on.
    “Is this about that hot guy in the suit who’s been here hounding you every night?” Tracey asked sympathetically. She took out a pot of my disco-pink cream eyeshadow and started absentmindedly rubbing it over her already done-up eyes. I nodded and she frowned at me in commiseration.
    “Honey,” she said, “you can’t let them get to you. You can’t get attached. The suit’s going home to his wife or his girlfriend at some point, and you just have to take what you have with him at face value. He wants to get his whore on — his boarding school whore on,” she said, looking at my outfit. “You know how this works, honey. You’re gonna get his freaky shit that’s too good for his wife. At some point, he’s gonna get tired of you, find someone prettier than you and younger than you. There’s always a new crop coming up. You gotta just take it at face value, like I said. And wallet value. Don’t forget the wallet value!”
    I smiled weakly at her and nodded. “You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.”
    “You’re a good girl. Too good to be sitting back here with the rest of us,” she said, returning the pot of eyeshadow to my makeup bag. “If you get out of here, maybe you could land somebody like that. Somebody who’d take care of you. But you gotta get out of here, first.” She rubbed my arm as she got up to fluff her hair. “I gotta go pee....but think about it. Get out of here before you get too old and jiggly!” She raised her hands above her head and shook her arms for emphasis, so the tops of them quivered.
    I was still half laughing about Tracey and half crying about John when Alex showed up at my chair.
    “Don’t you ever take a night off?” he asked, slouching into the chair that Tracey had left not that long ago.
    “Don’t you?” I asked, looking up at him from under my eyelash curler.
    He was picking at his cuticles, distracted. “Prince Charming’s here again,” he said, not looking at me. “He wants to see you.”
    “Lucky me,” I said, and tossed my eyelash curler towards the mirror.
    “Cruz expects you to be nice to him,” Alex said, looking up from his nails.
    I stood up and started putting my makeup bag away. I took a look at the backpack, stuffed into my locker. “And you?” I asked.
    “I expect you to be you,” he said and stood up. “He seems to like that, so you’ll be fine. And you’re back in the sweet spot in the lineup. Nice job last night.” He wagged his eyebrows at me in typical Alex fashion and I put my backside against the row of lockers in case he wanted to slap it. I liked Alex, but I didn’t have much patience tonight.
    It was good news about the lineup, but it was bad news about John. It was time to face him, to end the craziness. The craziness of my longing, the craziness of our brief connection. All the crazy shit he’d stuffed into that backpack. I was going to have to be a big girl and say goodbye.
    I grabbed the bag, careful to take out my heels and underwear. He could have the ruler and alas, the glasses, though I would miss them both. I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. Oxford shirt, plaid skirt, tennis