She says goodbye and strolls away down the hall.
I shut the door and heave a giant yawn. I have to be at work in four hours , I think, silently cursing to myself. I have no idea how I will be able to get any work done at Bellamy’s office, given how worn out I am from this rare night of revelry. So much has transpired in the last few hours, both physically and emotionally. Every ounce of energy in my body is spent.
I exhaustedly brush my teeth and change into pajamas before collapsing into bed. As I am on the verge of sleep, my phone buzzes with a text message. I consider ignoring it, but eventually flop a tired hand onto the table and flip the device open. It is from Sarah.
“You need to jump on the Garret train while you still can, girl,” it says. “I mean, how many chances like this are you gonna get? Night! xoxo.” I snap the phone shut and lie back down, but her words keep pin wheeling through my head.
The seesaw bounces, back and forth – Garret, school, Garret, money, Garret, work, Garret, life. How many chances will I get? How many? I can’t be sure. I don’t know. I am scared.
It doesn’t take long for the fatigue to overtake me and I pass out in bed, letting sweet nothingness drown me under an ocean of conflicting thoughts.
CHAPTER SIX
The surface of the desk is cool on my forehead. I am resting my head face down on the table, my eyes fluttering while I struggle with the exertion of forcing them to stay open. Every cell in my body is screaming like a banshee, begging for just a few moments of sleep. I have been dozing in and out all morning. Every time I fall asleep for the tiniest second, my head bobs to my chest and I have to jerk myself violently awake.
The clock is ticking slower than it ever has. The journey of the second hand between each mark is painstakingly diligent. It might as well be Chinese water torture at this point. Everyone in the office can see how tired I am; it is written in every exhausted wrinkle at the corner of my eyes, in the sloppy make-up smeared across my cheeks and lips, in the sluggish drag of my feet across the cold floors.
I have been trying to stay out of sight – hence my current supine position – but already a few people have passed by and dropped a smirking remark as they did, an offhanded “Someone was out late, hmm?” or “Not feeling so hot today, Jodie?” I wanted to smack them all, but the only thing I can summon up the willpower to do is nod and smile tiredly.
I just pray that neither Carla nor Bellamy see me in this state, lest I provoke either one’s prodigious and well-documented temper. I had ducked into the mailroom and grabbed the daily task list from my box when I arrived to avoid Carla, but three hours later I have barely accomplished anything. My inbox is bursting with unread emails while stacks of things to alphabetize and file are spewing from every edge of my desk. Given my pounding headache and the nausea that rears its head every time I move, though, I couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters is that I get out of here before Carla spots me, and definitely before Bellamy does.
I take a quick glance around the room. No sign of either of them, though I have seen Carla’s wriggling ass prowling in and out of various doorways at the opposite corner of the office. Not a peep all morning from behind Bellamy’s door. I breathe a sigh of relief. Fifteen more minutes and I can leave.
I flick through my emails, dumbly scanning for items of interest. The usual spam and shopping discounts get trashed immediately; class assignments and work to-do notices get ignored for the time being. I am in no mood to be productive. I reach a hand down to massage the backs of my ankles where they are throbbing from the stiletto straps that had sliced them open last night. I feel a streak of sticky blood on my fingertips that jolts me from my stupor. Taking a look down, I see crimson
I shut the door and heave a giant yawn. I have to be at work in four hours , I think, silently cursing to myself. I have no idea how I will be able to get any work done at Bellamy’s office, given how worn out I am from this rare night of revelry. So much has transpired in the last few hours, both physically and emotionally. Every ounce of energy in my body is spent.
I exhaustedly brush my teeth and change into pajamas before collapsing into bed. As I am on the verge of sleep, my phone buzzes with a text message. I consider ignoring it, but eventually flop a tired hand onto the table and flip the device open. It is from Sarah.
“You need to jump on the Garret train while you still can, girl,” it says. “I mean, how many chances like this are you gonna get? Night! xoxo.” I snap the phone shut and lie back down, but her words keep pin wheeling through my head.
The seesaw bounces, back and forth – Garret, school, Garret, money, Garret, work, Garret, life. How many chances will I get? How many? I can’t be sure. I don’t know. I am scared.
It doesn’t take long for the fatigue to overtake me and I pass out in bed, letting sweet nothingness drown me under an ocean of conflicting thoughts.
CHAPTER SIX
The surface of the desk is cool on my forehead. I am resting my head face down on the table, my eyes fluttering while I struggle with the exertion of forcing them to stay open. Every cell in my body is screaming like a banshee, begging for just a few moments of sleep. I have been dozing in and out all morning. Every time I fall asleep for the tiniest second, my head bobs to my chest and I have to jerk myself violently awake.
The clock is ticking slower than it ever has. The journey of the second hand between each mark is painstakingly diligent. It might as well be Chinese water torture at this point. Everyone in the office can see how tired I am; it is written in every exhausted wrinkle at the corner of my eyes, in the sloppy make-up smeared across my cheeks and lips, in the sluggish drag of my feet across the cold floors.
I have been trying to stay out of sight – hence my current supine position – but already a few people have passed by and dropped a smirking remark as they did, an offhanded “Someone was out late, hmm?” or “Not feeling so hot today, Jodie?” I wanted to smack them all, but the only thing I can summon up the willpower to do is nod and smile tiredly.
I just pray that neither Carla nor Bellamy see me in this state, lest I provoke either one’s prodigious and well-documented temper. I had ducked into the mailroom and grabbed the daily task list from my box when I arrived to avoid Carla, but three hours later I have barely accomplished anything. My inbox is bursting with unread emails while stacks of things to alphabetize and file are spewing from every edge of my desk. Given my pounding headache and the nausea that rears its head every time I move, though, I couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters is that I get out of here before Carla spots me, and definitely before Bellamy does.
I take a quick glance around the room. No sign of either of them, though I have seen Carla’s wriggling ass prowling in and out of various doorways at the opposite corner of the office. Not a peep all morning from behind Bellamy’s door. I breathe a sigh of relief. Fifteen more minutes and I can leave.
I flick through my emails, dumbly scanning for items of interest. The usual spam and shopping discounts get trashed immediately; class assignments and work to-do notices get ignored for the time being. I am in no mood to be productive. I reach a hand down to massage the backs of my ankles where they are throbbing from the stiletto straps that had sliced them open last night. I feel a streak of sticky blood on my fingertips that jolts me from my stupor. Taking a look down, I see crimson
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