Chapter 6 - Jasmine
JASMINE
I watched that masked man enter the elevator before I heaved a heavy sigh. I hated it when I got my ass chewed out by my boss in front of a room full of people. Sure, I was paid six figures to do what I did.
But sometimes, the money simply wasn’t worth it.
I sank myself into my routine, thankful that my boss would be gone for the rest of the day after this meeting. I barely registered getting out. I barely registered everyone walking by my desk without so much as greeting me.
I hardly knew anything until a stack of files was dropped onto my desk in front of me.
“These need to be signed off and filed away before you leave,” my boss said.
I looked up at him to respond, but he already walked away from my desk. “I’ll make sure it gets done, sir!”
“You better!”
I ground my teeth together as I sighed. I waited until I heard the elevators ding closed, and I busied myself with things on my desktop until I was sure he wasn’t going to double back.
I flicked my attention over to the elevator every once in a while, clocking what level it was on.
And when I watched it finally descend to the first level, I let out a breath I didn’t once realize I was holding.
“Another long night,” I muttered as I reached for the file on top of the stack.
Once I sank into a rhythm at work, I hardly ever came up for air. Ripping me out of a groove like that always made it harder to sink back into things, so it was nice whenever my boss was out of the office. Granted, that was usually always. But at least things were quiet up there on the top floor.
With no one else around me.
Got lonely sometimes, though.
By the time I finished with the last file as well as the other things slated on my schedule for the day, it was past eight in the evening.
I yawned as I clocked myself out for the day.
Well, there wasn’t really a clock to clock out on.
Being paid what I was paid meant my boss owned most, if not all, of my time.
However, I logged out and shut down my desk, eager to go straight from the top of the building to the parking garage beneath.
I was in my car within minutes.
“All right,” I muttered to myself as I cranked my rustbucket of a vehicle up, “let’s go get some food.”
I sure as hell wasn’t going home just to cook this late at night. I was tired. My hands ached. The tips of my fingers were damn near bruised from the amount of typing I’d had to do that day. So, I treated myself to my favorite place so that I could enjoy my favorite meal:
Veggie ramen with extra kimchi and a mango bubble tea.
The smell of my food taunted me as I drove across town. Well, not really across town, since the firm was pretty much smack dab in the middle of downtown. But I was still a good twenty-minute inner-city drive from the place, and sometimes I just wanted to claw my eyes out.
I really needed to find a place closer to downtown if I kept this job.
You have to keep this job. You’re almost debt free.
I pulled up to the back parking lot of the building that housed my studio apartment.
It was a rundown brick building, but at least it didn’t have bars on the windows.
The rent couldn’t be beat for less than four figures a month, and while I knew I could afford a better place with a better view, I needed to use my money in other ways.
Like digging myself out of the debt my father put me into so that I could save for my future.
I barely recalled getting inside of the building. I nodded to the person manning the front desk, but didn’t really register who it was. I was so bone tired by the time the rickety metal elevator squealed its doors open for me. I was in my apartment.
Home.
“Thank fuck,” I said breathlessly before I pulled in a deep breath.
I caught a whiff of something musty.
My nose wrinkled as I walked my food over to my couch. I set it down on the coffee table, then made my way into the kitchen. I stuck my nose out and continued sniffing, tracking the scent like a hound dog.
I hated smells that I couldn’t identify.
I wasn’t sure how long it took me to track down that smell, but when I found a bag of potatoes in the back of my pantry that I completely forgot about, I groaned.
Damn it.
I’d have to clean this before I could eat.
Just how my brain worked and all.
Cleaning up the potato spill, or whatever kind of liquid it was that it left behind in my pantry, shifted to me reorganizing the entire fucking thing.
I dripped with sweat by the time I loaded the last case of bottled water onto the little bottle organizer I kept mounted to the wall in my pantry.
It kept me from jamming my toes on the water cases whenever I needed to find stuff.
But my stomach growled out angrily, and it washed a wave of dizziness over me.
I turned around and closed the pantry, checking the clock on the microwave.
Goddamn it, it was nine-thirty.
“Fuck,” I groaned as I made my way back to my food.
My mango bubble tea was watered down with the melted ice. My ramen had long since gotten cold. I threw a pot onto the stove and dumped my ramen back in it to bring it to temperature, but there wasn’t anything I could do about my mango bubble tea.
Except for pouring it into the tumbler I kept in my freezer.
“This’ll have to do,” I whispered to myself.
After screwing the top onto my tumbler, I made myself scarce while the pot sat on the stove on medium heat.
I went through my routine of cleaning myself up as best as I could, because I wasn’t taking a fucking shower.
It was too late, I was too tired and much too hungry, and I had to be back at it tomorrow, despite the fact that it was Saturday.
Per my contract, I worked two Saturdays out of each month, and those Saturdays were paid time and a half.
I could only hope that we traveled a lot tomorrow and not sitting in meetings where I’d have to pay attention.
Cleaning myself up spiraled into me just bringing my dinner into my bedroom.
I wasn’t big on eating in bed, but I was exhausted, and at least I could turn my little projector on and watch some trashy television on my wall.
I had a small television out in my living room, but weirdly enough, I didn’t watch TV on it too much.
Not without falling asleep on the couch.
And if I was going to fall asleep watching TV, the very least I could do was be in my bed for it.
Hence, the little splurge purchase on the cheap projector I saw on social media.
I turned on my favorite trashy TV show, The Real Housewives, and I mindlessly scooped the ramen into my mouth.
I wasn’t delicate or womanly when eating ramen.
I might as well have looked like a monster devouring its own young.
I chased it all down with the mango bubble tea, practically guzzling it to get it into my shivering stomach sooner.
Within minutes, the meal was gone, and I was in the kitchen cleaning things up.
Sleep time, for sure.
When I knew that enough of the mess was cleaned up for my brain to let me sleep tonight, I dragged my ass back to bed.
I flopped down beneath the covers with the episode still going on the wall, and I allowed my eyes to close.
Not because I was tired. I mean, I was, but it always took my brain forever to settle down so that I could actually pass out. But my eyes just felt so… heavy.
Like something weighed them down.
As I laid there, aimlessly listening to a bunch of women throw hands, I thought about that man from earlier. The man in the mask. The way his green eyes sparkled with every word he said. That robust voice that wasn’t too deep, like my father’s was growing up.
I hated deep, booming voices.
He was tall, too. Around six-feet, if I had to take a guess. Looked like he kept himself up well, too.
“Shh,” I said out loud.
Like that would get my brain to stop thinking about the man.
He seemed so… genuine. It wasn’t like that with a lot of the clients I interfaced with at my place of work. They always had a slightly skeevy presence to them. He was so kind, though.
Maybe kind wasn’t the right word. But he certainly was…
I don’t know. My mind was too tired to come up with the word.
He wasn’t an asshole like my boss, though.
Which was nice. Those eyes popped up into my head again.
The way they crinkled whenever he smiled, even though his mask prevented anyone from seeing his smile.
The television show unfolding on my wall faded away as the feeling of his shadow while it cloaked me shot goosebumps up my spine.
I wondered why he wore it. His mask. Did he not like his smile?
It made me sad. I bet he had a lovely smile.
Before I knew it, my eyes became heavy and I snuggled deeper into bed. Within minutes I was dreaming of the mysterious man with ice green eyes and a mask.