Dirty Secrets

"Why, I just quit my job. I'm jobless. I'm unemployed. You're squeezing me to death," Adele said, trying to break free.

"I'm not worried, and it's called a hug. Did I pop your precious space bubble?" Robynne's laughter filled the room.

"Is it because I'm a penny pinching miser? Okay, you can let me go now," Adele said.

"I will see you at home...maybe. CT wants me to stay at his place," Robynne said.

"Are you two gonna make love faces tonight? Ewww. Nasty," Adele said.

"It's a strong possibility. He crossed the three month finish line. The first prize is this booty." Robynne smacked her ass for emphasis.

Adele grabbed a small box from the supply closet with the intention of storing her mouse pad, some well worn stress balls, photos of her parents and an impressive candy stash: a paltry accumulation of items summed up the five years she spent toiling at Corentini. She picked up her box, took one last look around and headed for the door.

Chapter 5

Adele paced back and forth across the hard wood floors of her apartment. After catching a cab home, she made and then neglected a tuna sandwich after a few bites. It's festering remnants sat on the dining room table. Construction next door made it impossible to sleep, but a stubborn Adele tried nevertheless. She studied the crevices of the ceiling for fifteen minutes, but sleeplessness pull her out of bed.

She couldn't grasp the concept of being home at two in the afternoon on a Monday. She powered up her laptop and then stared at the balance of her savings account until her eyes crossed. A combination of thriftiness and a healthy inheritance from her father's estate left her with a good amount of savings in the bank.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her Italian dictionary peeking out from under Robynne's Condè Nast Traveller magazines. She threw it across the room where it landed on a white leather sofa.

The apartment's black and white motif reminded Adele of a waiting room. Robynne's muses, two cats named Ebony and Ivory, purred on a red coffee table. The well-done Picasso copies--courtesy of Adele--bought from a sidewalk artist in The Village, added a badly needed color infusion in their anemic apartment. Adele clicked on the close button of her bank's website only to be inundated with pop-up advertisements from various companies.

"Come experience the island paradise of St. Lucia," an ad blasted from her speakers. The steady beat of steel drums brought the Caribbean into her living room. A grinning couple broke through crystalline, blue water. They ran in slow motion leaving footprints in the whitest sand Adele had ever seen. She tried to close out the pop-up, but to her dismay, it froze on her laptop. Staring at the beautiful island images suspended on her computer screen, Adele remembered all of the vacation time she did not take over the last few years.

"Yes Mindy, I'm about to check in for my flight," Adele said.

"Your presentation isn't working. The board members are freaking out. There are Italian words flying around the room. They do not look happy," Mindy said.

"What are they saying?" Adele heard the distress in her voice.

"How the hell should I know? I don't speak Italian. I pay you to speak it for me, but you're not here," Mindy's nasally whine gave Adele an instant headache.

"Did you turn on the projector? Did you power up the computer? Is the screen on and lowered?" Adele asked.

"I did it all. It still won't work," Mindy said.

"Call IT," Adele said.

"I don't trust them. I want you to do it," Mindy said.

"Just breathe. Forget the visual presentation. Just use the notes I gave you. You did look at the notes, right?" Adele asked.

"I did look at them. I can't do this. I need you," Mindy said.

"Can I see your ticket and ID, Ma'am," the ticket agent asked.

"Who do I talk to about a refund?" Adele sighed.

Adele groaned with the memory of Mindy's incompetence. A $385 penalty and a cancelled Caribbean cruise hadn't resulted in a thank you from the Dark One. Out of curiosity, she clicked the intrusive pop-up ad, resulting in a bevy of reasonably priced last minute vacation deals flooding her screen. She looked out her window and back onto her screen.

"I'm going to St. Lucia," Adele yelled.

A raspy command bellowed from above, "Unless you're gonna take me with you, shut the fuck up."