I’d spent an eternity wandering the streets at night, only getting bits and pieces of sleep, and when I woke up it was to several days having passed. I was exhausted still.
Energy flowed into me soon after, though, and the haze my life was in faded. Food, a place to sleep, and being able to pay my rent in advance were all beautiful, and the money slowly building up in my account was nice, too as I continued working, making up a lie about staying up for a month straight due to finals and ending up sleeping for days on end.
Soon enough I even had a mattress to sleep on, more than one set of clothes, detergent, and soap, and a duffel bag full of workout clothes that I took to work.
Life had settled down, and I even managed to get a baseball bat for protection. It was thin and sleek, and it was great. Just as well, I’d gotten a motorcycle license and some cheap dirt-bike armor and a helmet, gaining a hobby outside of freerunning and going to the gym to become a better free runner.
Well.
Aside from my planned hobby of freerunning. I stared at the rooftops, then the small map I had that showed me this was a beginner-friendly trail. Swallowing, I sprinted forward, toward the edge of the gravel-laden rooftop. Leaping over the edge, my heart hammered as I flew over a well-over-a-hundred-foot drop.
Adrenaline flowed through me, and I found myself laughing as I continued, clumsily finding my way over obstacles and onto ledges, jumping again and again.
It was only five rooftops, a fire escape neatly leading down, but it was enough for me, for now, until I could go through those roofs comfortably.
My alarm went off, and I glanced at it.
Going to work was easy, as the freerunning spot was the one I’d seen when I stepped onto Kageson’s roof.
I just turned, sprinting back, and got into Kageson.
Harold whistled as he leaned back, crossing his soft-looking muscular arms, biceps flexing, “First time the CEO got here before you, I’m impressed.”
I grinned, “I know, right? I was freerunning, it’s exhilarating.”
Harold made a noise of surprise, “At this time? That’s crazy, man. You can’t see anything out there.”
My grin widened as I went to the gym. I was already in my workout clothes, my formal wear in my duffel. I once again ignored the only other person here, wondering why Harold never mentioned this employee. Was he a security guard? A night-shift janitor exercising before he left?
I observed the muscles rippling in his back for a moment before stretching out. Before I’d been homeless I’d never been an active person, but I both had to keep up the illusion after I got a place and also found it very, very convenient.
Might as well, right?
Exercising was a chore, but it woke me up, and I felt oh-so-great afterward. According to the internet, it was the same stuff that cutting gave me, so I figured exercising anytime I felt like dying was a better option than actually dying.
I loved life. I loved living it.
My mind didn’t care about the memories of peace, though, nor did it care for the logic I’d tried forcing into it, twisting my logic against me. Existential nihilism always crushed hopeless optimism, in my mind.
I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For me to be back on the streets that weren’t that bad to people like me.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Knowing I belonged there didn’t mean I wanted to be there, though. Was it so bad to want to have a reliable place to sleep?
My workout went well, in my opinion, ending in a nice cool-down on the treadmill. I stopped when the second alarm I’d installed, one for 04:30, went off. Taking a quick shower, no longer needing to clean my clothes alongside myself, I dried off using a towel—an actual, amazing, beautiful towel—and headed to clock in.
The winter had just ended, and I found myself feeling great as the one-year-mark came upon me. An entire year of working somewhere. And I was getting paid! It was great! I could afford a phone bill! I had data outside of wifi, and it was beautiful.
All the piracy sites blocked by the wifi opened up to me, and I was able to read oh so much more, reading my life outside of exercising and work. Of course, I always ended up bored.
For some reason, be it autism or pure idiocy, I found legal paperwork more interesting to read through than fictional stories, nowadays. Something I couldn’t fathom before I came to NYC.
Sighing as I got bored of the predictable storyline and sad ending of another villainess story, I reached out. Reading through the giant stacks of legalese was great, and as I looked up more and more words, I was better able to sort them.
I started tentatively sorting by sentences, too. There were recurring phrases in the things he always refused, and I always read through them carefully.
Knowing what they meant and knowing why they weren’t good were two wholly different things, though, and I was only half-right, so far. It wasn’t like I could look at the accepted documents to figure out why one was accepted over another, though.
As I came from Davis’ office without a single paper returned, I spoke, forearms resting against the desk, “So, how’s your luck been with him?”
Shawn grimaced, downing his cup of coffee, “I should never have agreed to your words, girl. He doesn’t even look at me.”
“What?” My voice was relaxed, and I gave him a confused grin, “What does that even mean?”
“He doesn’t look at me! At all. No eye contact, not even glancing my way,” Shawn bemoaned, a hand running through his hair and his brown blazer resting behind him, only his tie, button-up, and slacks on, even his shoes off under his desk.
I snickered, “You probably just don’t notice. If you keep staring him down you’ll scare him off. You gotta start trying to be suggestive.”
“Like what, asking him to hop on my dick? Asking to hop on his? We don’t even know if he’s into men, girl!”
My grin faded to a smile, as I knocked on the wood, turning to leave, “Well that’s a start. There’s been weirder small-talk, and last week I definitely saw someone under his desk, and you know what that means, so there’s no way he’s ace. Go figure out which one of us has the best chance, man.”
“Fine, fine,” Shawn waved me off, “See you in an hour, you liar. No way was someone under his desk.”
“Or less,” I agreed as I fully turned, “Have a good one. Can’t wait to somehow prove you wrong.”
The air proved tricky, though, and my shoe caught on a trap laid out, and I flailed, falling over the air that dared trip me. I caught myself, rolling, and continued as if I didn’t trip, clearing my throat and brushing myself off.
These new shoes really liked clinging to the floors even if I only barely brushed the top of my shoes against them, it was their fault, not mine.
My balance was fine, thank you.
“Any errors?” Steven asked, a lot more relaxed after working here for a year, his brown hair not as messy and his blue suit as pristine as ever.
“No spelling errors that I noticed, otherwise we’ll see if he sends it back,” I said with a shrug.
All of the lawyers had begun referring to me because if I thought he’d send a paperback, he definitely did. Mainly because I noticed spelling errors, I wasn’t yet able to determine what phrases he was so wary about.
I did my best, though, and Shawn definitely helped when I asked what he was looking for and what they spoke of during certain meetings. Shawn didn’t know the full contents of the meetings, of course, but he sometimes was allowed to sit in or sent to go get something and could hear the direction of the conversations Davis had.
Apparently, Davis had no shame when it came to clients, chasing them all the way to the front doors if he thought it would help him in acquiring the things he desired.
That made me put any passive suggestions or outright tilted-favor contracts in the “might refuse” area no matter how many times they passed. Typically, though, they didn’t pass.