Chapter 3 Cordelia - Mt Vesuvius
Out, damned spot!
Macbeth, William Shakespeare
“Shouldn’t you be moving a bit faster?” Harrison asked, straightening his collar in the mirror.
“Yep,” I replied, spritzing on some perfume.
I loved my job, but in this industry, we were expected to be glamorous at all times.
Just once I wished I could leave with a bare face and nothing on but sweats and joggers.
Harrison had to be equally as groomed, but he loved it.
Even on his days off, he’d do his skincare routine and style his hair with gel.
I looked at his reflection. Ew. He had a massive zit in the middle of his forehead, bigger than I’d ever seen on a human.
“God, make sure you squeeze that before you go,” I said.
We all got pimples. That came with being an adult human, but he couldn’t serve people with that beacon glowing on his head.
It was a huge yellow bulb, so close to the surface of the skin that it looked like it would burst if someone breathed on it.
No one would look him in the eye today. They’d look in his third eye.
I’d rather have a red mark than that yellow balloon on my head.
“No, it might scar,” he replied simply, combing the sides of his hair.
“Okay, your choice. I might be late tonight. I have an afternoon client visit at the ass end of the world”
He murmured an acknowledgment but was now distracted by the pimple. Making a grab for my face powder, he searched around for an applicator brush. Hell no.
“You’re not using my brush. I just cleaned them all. You can use the powder but use a cotton tip or something. You’re much darker than me so it won’t even match.”
This man was so vain. Most of the time I didn’t care, but sometimes it was a bit annoying that he took longer to get ready than I did. If we were going out at night, I had to virtually book a spot in my bathroom in advance.
“Fine,” he grunted out, now rummaging in the drawer for some cotton tips.
“Bye,” I called over my shoulder. “Have a great day. Don’t kill anyone with the wrong meds and don’t become involved with Jesse Pinkman!”
The last thing I heard was his laughter as I closed the front door.
We had a very easy relationship. Very few arguments, and if we did argue, we sorted it quickly and moved on.
Neither of us were particularly stubborn, though I could dig in if I really felt wronged, and Harrison often found it difficult to lower his pride.
I was halfway to my car when Damon jogged across the lawn.
He was such a friendly neighbor and was so helpful when we discussed our house plans with him.
He was a carpenter, so he knew way more than we did.
Harrison wasn’t as friendly with him as I was, but he was always slow to warm up to people.
He was a private person, but when he let you in, he let you all the way in.
“Hey Cordelia,” he greeted. He always used my full name. Even my parents didn’t use it. I smiled, fully appreciating the form-fitting t-shirt he was wearing.
“Good morning! Busy day ahead?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a fair bit on my plate at the moment. I’m going to be working late today and tomorrow and was wondering if you could maybe take Nettie for a walk tonight?”
“Absolutely!” I’d offered to walk Nettie before, but this was the first time he’d taken me up on it.
“Cool, thanks. The gate’s unlocked and I’ll leave her lead on the back table.”
“No worries. Have a great day, I gotta go. I feel like I’m circumnavigating the globe today,” I laughed.
He walked backwards across my lawn, waving. “Bye Cordelia, have a good one.”
He really was very sweet. If I had a sister who was single, I’d try to weave my magic. He was a nice guy.
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Ugh, my feet were killing. Ten hours in high heels was not how a body should be treated. I sat on the sofa, rubbing my feet. Harrison had cooked dinner, and we were now hanging out together before bed.
“Harrison, I seriously think we should get a cat. They aren’t as full on as dogs, and they clean themselves.”
“Not right now. We don’t need the hassle of a pet. And they may clean themselves, but that doesn’t mean they’re clean. It’d leave hair everywhere."
“I’d vacuum regularly,” I insisted. “And you wouldn’t have to do anything.”
He leaned over and put a hand on my leg. “Babe, let’s just wait.” As he ran his hand up and down my leg, he screwed up his face. “Your leg is like a cactus. Going for the wild woman look, are you? Shouldn’t you shave for work?”
I pulled my legs up and tucked my feet under my butt.
“I don’t shave; I wax. You know that. I’m waiting a few more days until the hair is a decent enough length.
And fuck you. You walked out with Mt Vesuvius on your face this morning.
” He hated it when I was “ungroomed,” which pissed me off.
What about if we had a baby? There’s no way I’d be perfect and hair-free every day of my life.
He smiled. “Sorry, babe. You know I love you the way you are. And by the way, Mt Vesuvius erupted just before lunch. I had no idea until a customer kept looking at my head. By the time I took my break, it was dripping down between my eyebrows.”
“Ew.”
“At least I’m not going to scar,” he replied, kissing my forehead.
He reached out to the coffee table, grabbing the hand sanitizer.
We had a million bottles of the stuff stashed away around the house.
He’d taken his pharmacy training very seriously and sanitized more than a surgeon would.
Squeezing the bottle, he rubbed it into his hands, the smell infiltrating my senses with its sharp alcoholic edge.
I sighed, returning to my phone. Oooh, I love that print. It would be perfect in the hall.