Chapter 4 Imani
IMANI
The parking lot at Shadow Suds is mostly empty when I pull in Thursday morning. Just Derrick’s car and a few others. Early shift, which means I might actually get an assignment today.
I grab my purse and head inside. The bell above the door chimes as I enter.
The front office smells like lemon cleaner and fresh laundry, familiar scents that have started to feel like comfort over the past few weeks.
I head straight for the employee area, stuffing my coat and hat into my locker, swapping my winter boots for the sensible work shoes I keep on the bottom shelf.
My uniform is simple. Black pants, gray polo with the Shadow Suds logo on the chest. Nothing fancy, but it’s clean and professional and mine.
I check my reflection in the small mirror on the inside of the locker door.
My hair is doing its best to escape the bun I wrestled it into this morning.
Thick curls straining against the elastic, a few rebellious strands already springing free around my temples.
I tuck them back as best I can and close the locker.
Time to clock in.
Derrick’s office is just off the main hallway, a cramped space with a desk, a filing cabinet, and a time clock mounted on the wall. He’s there when I walk in, hunched over some paperwork, but his head snaps up the moment I appear in the doorway.
His eyes light up. That’s the only way to describe it. Like someone flipped a switch behind his face.
“Imani.” He straightens in his chair, a smile spreading across his features. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” I keep my voice warm but neutral, crossing to the time clock and punching in my number. The machine beeps, confirming my arrival. “Anything on the schedule for today?”
“Not yet. Assignments come in around nine. You know how it is.”
I do know. Thursdays are when we find out where we’re spending the weekend.
The mountain cabins are the best gigs. Shifters who actually appreciate a clean home and tip accordingly.
I’ve been lucky enough to land a few of those over the past month, and every extra dollar has gone straight into my shoebox savings.
“I’ll be in the laundry room if you need me,” I say, already backing toward the door.
“Imani, wait—“
“Towels won’t fold themselves.” I flash him a smile and escape before he can finish whatever sentence was forming on his lips.
The laundry room is my sanctuary on slow mornings. Warm from the dryers, quiet except for the rhythmic tumble of fabric. I pull a load of clean towels from the machine and start folding, letting the repetitive motion settle my nerves.
Derrick is going to ask me out. I can feel it coming, the way you can feel a storm building on the horizon. The lingering looks. The reasons to call me into his office. The questions about my weekend plans that have nothing to do with work schedules.
He’s a nice guy. Genuinely nice, which makes it worse. Easy smile, kind eyes, the sort of steady presence that would have caught my attention a few years ago. He’s even my type, if I’m being honest. Tall. Put together. Responsible.
But I’m not doing this anymore.
I’ve spent too many years building up men.
Pouring myself into relationships, giving more than I got back, watching them climb to wherever they wanted to be and then leave me behind for the woman they actually wanted.
I’m tired of being the stepping stone. The practice girlfriend.
The one who’s good enough until something better comes along.
So no. No dating. No Derrick. No anyone.
I focus on work. I build my savings. I take care of myself. That’s the plan. That’s the only plan.
I finish the towels and move to the break room, tidying up the counter and starting a fresh pot of coffee. The bagels from Stanley’s are still in their paper bag, so I arrange them on the tray, setting out napkins and little packets of cream cheese. Busy work, but it keeps my hands occupied.
The door opens behind me.
I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Derrick. I can feel his presence in the doorway, hesitant and hopeful.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.” I keep my back to him, focusing on the bagels like they require my full attention.
He steps into the room. I hear him take a breath, the kind of breath people take when they’re about to say something important.
The front door chimes.
Voices fill the hallway. The other employees arriving, chattering and laughing, stomping snow off their boots. Derrick exhales, and I can almost hear the disappointment in it.
“Guess it’s time,” he says, and when I turn around, he’s holding a clipboard. Professional again. The moment passed.
I follow him out to the main area, where the rest of the shift is gathering.
Keisha is already there, leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee in her hand. She’s got that look on her face, the one that says she’s been waiting for someone to walk in so she can say something clever at their expense.
Her eyes land on me.
“Morning, Imani.” Her gaze travels up to my hair, and her lips curl into something that’s almost a smile. “Rough night? That bun is looking a little... wild.”
I resist the urge to touch my hair. “Morning, Keisha.”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugs, all innocence. “Some of us take pride in our appearance. You know. Professionalism.”
I don’t take the bait. I don’t know why Keisha has decided I’m her favorite target, and I’m not going to waste energy trying to figure it out. I just need to keep this job. Keep my head down. Keep saving.
“Alright, everyone.” Derrick clears his throat, glancing down at his clipboard. “Let’s get through the weekend assignments.”
The room settles. Keisha takes a bite of her bagel, watching Derrick with half-lidded eyes. I stand near the back, arms crossed, hoping my name comes up.
Derrick reads off the names. The Johnson cabin goes to Marcus. The lake house goes to Teresa. The North Ridge property goes to a guy named Devon who pumps his fist like he just won the lottery.
My name doesn’t come up.
I try not to let the disappointment show on my face. No assignment means no tips. No tips means another week of slow progress on my savings goal.
“Alright.” Derrick lowers the clipboard. “That’s everyone.”
The disappointment lands hard.
“Oh, wait.” He flips to another page, frowning at whatever’s written there. “There is one more.”
The room goes still.
“Cabin up in the high mountains. Near Ironwood Clan territory.” He looks up, scanning the faces in front of him. “The client is offering double pay. Weekend job, shopping and stocking the pantry, deep cleaning before hibernation season.”
Double pay.
My heart skips.
But something is wrong. The other employees are shifting uncomfortably, avoiding Derrick’s gaze. A few of them are already shaking their heads.
“Who’s the client?” someone asks.
Derrick hesitates. “Tolin.”
The reaction is immediate. Scoffs. Eye rolls. A muttered “hell no” from somewhere near the back. Keisha actually laughs, sharp and humorless.
“Absolutely not,” she says. “That grumpy asshole? I’d rather clean toilets at the bus station.”
“There’s a snowstorm coming,” another woman adds. “I’m not getting stuck up there with him. Forget it.”
I don’t understand. Double pay is double pay. What could possibly be so bad about this guy that everyone is turning down that kind of money?
“He’s offering double,” Derrick repeats, a note of pleading in his voice. “Come on, someone has to—“
“I’ll do it.”
The words are out of my mouth before I fully think them through.
Every head in the room turns toward me. Keisha’s eyebrows shoot up. Derrick looks like I just told him I’m planning to wrestle a bear.
Which, apparently, I might be.
“I’ll do it,” I say again, more firmly this time. “I mean, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s money. I’m not turning down double pay.”
Silence. Then Keisha smiles, slow and satisfied.
“Well, well.” She turns to Derrick, spreading her hands. “Looks like you’ve got your volunteer.”
“Imani—“ Derrick starts.
“You’ll probably miss the Winter Solstice celebration,” Keisha cuts in, her voice dripping with false concern. “The whole town turns out for that. It’s a big deal around here.”
I shrug. “So?”
She blinks, clearly expecting that to land harder than it did.
No boyfriend. No friends. No family nearby. No one waiting for me at home. What do I care about missing a town party? I’d just be standing on the edges anyway, watching everyone else have a good time.
Around the room, the other employees are already grabbing their things, heading for the door. A chorus of “hell no” and “good luck with that” trailing behind them. Even the ones who didn’t get assignments seem eager to escape before Derrick can change his mind and assign them instead.
Keisha grabs her coffee and pushes off from the wall. “Oh no, Derrick. She said she’s got it.” She pats my shoulder as she passes, her nails painted a glossy red. “Good luck up there, honey. You’re going to need it.”
She disappears into the laundry room, leaving me alone with Derrick and the sinking feeling that I just volunteered for something I don’t fully understand.
“Is it really that bad?” I ask.
Derrick doesn’t answer right away. He sets down the clipboard and runs a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired.
“Tolin is a good friend,” he finally says. “But he’s... difficult.”
“Difficult how?”
“He’s a bear shifter. Grumpy as hell. Runs off every employee I send up there. Some of them don’t even last a full day.”
I think about the cash in my shoebox. The green velvet chair in the window at Cozy Corner Furnishings. The empty apartment waiting for me to turn it into a home.
“What’s the trick?”
Derrick sighs. “Keep your head down. Clean, stock the pantry, don’t try to make conversation. Eat your meals in your room if you can. Just stay out of his way and you’ll be fine.”
“Stay out of his way,” I repeat. “Got it.”
“I mean it, Imani. Don’t engage. Don’t take the bait when he gets rude. And he will get rude. Just do your job and get out.”