Behind the Scenes(8)

I squint at him, thinking if I can see him better, his words will make more sense. “Is that what you do?”

“Yes.”

“What if this rapist gets in through your bedroom?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Why do you think I put my wardrobe in front of the window?”

I rub my eyes, wondering where all the rape talk is coming from. “No one’s going to rape you, Eryk. You look like a Viking. They’d be too afraid of getting stabbed by your sword.”

His face brightens. “That’s not usually what the boys call it, but I like that nickname. I think I’ll go with it.”

I groan and roll over to close my eyes and hug my body pillow close. I just want to go back to sleep. Go back to that place where Mr. Mulroney’s fingers were tracing their way along my hips and his mouth was finding its way to my breasts…

I snap my eyes open. Wait. Hold on. No, that is not what I want to be doing.

The bed sinks as Eryk sits down on it. “So did you bang him yet?”

I roll back over. “Cut it out. What do you think?”

He kicks the heels off. “Why not? Hasn’t it been, like, a million years since you’ve had sex?”

“Since when is six months a million years?”

“When you’re twenty-two it is.”

Hm. I can’t say I really disagree with that.

“Are you going to invite your new friends at work to my show?” he asks, referring to his first-ever drag show at Micky’s West Hollywood, a nightclub not far from us.

“I don’t really have friends there yet, but yeah, I’ll invite them. Will you get out of my room now so I can get dressed?”

“Psst. Trust me, I am not interested in seeing your titties.”

“Still. Out. Goodbye.”

“Fine, fine.” He puts the heels back on and stands up, nearly falling back onto the bed as he does so. “I’ll leave you to masturbate while you think about your boss.”

“Goodbye, Eryk.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him.

For a moment I lay still, staring at the wall. I think of my vibrator, tucked away in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. It’s been weeks since I’ve taken it out. I bite my lip, considering…

“No,” I say out loud. “Wrong, Sydney. Wrong, wrong.”

With a groan, I peek at the bedside clock, then throw the sheets off and roll out of bed. Crystal’s already left for her job at the rec center, which means I might actually be able to snag the bathroom for a shower. All three of our bedrooms are off the main hallway, but you have to walk across the living room to get to the one bathroom. It can be a pain — especially if you have to take a pee in the middle of the night while one of your roommates is on the couch making out with a date.

Eryk sits curled up on the couch eating cereal and watching a morning talk show. I book it into the bathroom and shower as quickly as possible, thinking I might be able to get to work early.

Now that Mr. Mulroney hasn’t fired me, I’m going to do everything in my power to prove to him that I belong at the office. It’s not ass kissing. In fact, I like to think of it as ass kicking. I’m more than another throw-away assistant.

To save time, I leave my wet hair to dry in the car. Hopping back into my room, I get dressed in leggings and the long green button-up Crystal gave me for Christmas. Eryk’s still on the couch, channel surfing. Working at a restaurant, he runs on a late night schedule.

“Bye.” I wave at him and snatch up my backpack.

His fingers flutter back at me. “Have fun.”

I shoot him a look. “Eryk. Stop.”

He still stares at the television. “I mean it. Geez. What, you never have fun at work?”

I roll my eyes. “Lock the door after me. We don’t want you getting raped.”

He gasps in protest, but I’m already pulling the door closed behind me. My shoes bang against the metal stairs and I jog across the courtyard with the tiny pool no one ever uses.

I parked out front the night before. I toss my backpack in the passenger’s seat and roll the windows down. My fingers tap against the steering wheel while I wait for the traffic to clear enough to pull out. An image from the morning’s dream appears out of nowhere and I bite my lip, thinking of beads of sweat rolling down Mr. Mulroney’s ripped forearms.

Damn, that was a detailed dream.

But it’s not the reason I’m going into work early.

It’s because I want to prove myself — and not because I want Mr. Mulroney to like me! Hell no. If anything, it’s so someone else might take notice of my efforts and get me out of that hellhole of an office.

Stacey is just settling in when I arrive. She sets her purse behind the front desk and yawns into her hand.