Lay Low

5: Boris & Natasha

SOOKIE

I felt terrible for Eric, even worse after I made him run away. I'd been where he was. I didn't have so many years with my dad, and I knew their relationship was strained, but it still sucked. Bad.

A few days went by before he came back to work. It was a Monday and I was really starting to get the hang of things. As a matter of fact, I'd figured out how to make closing and dispatching more efficient. Des was funny, and had a good head on his shoulders, but he could be scatterbrained and his process just wasn't working. Needless to say, he was happy when I sat him down and showed him my methods.

I'd also brought up the Malibu he had for sale. He was hesitant at first, but ultimately he agreed to sell it to me. I could breathe a sigh of relief that I could retire Priscilla for something a lot more reliable. I'd never had anything as new as the Malibu, so I was pretty excited. They were still waiting on some parts for the transmission, but as soon as they came in I got to take her home. Maybe him... I'd have to drive it a few times to figure it out.

At work all day Eric had been quiet, but he didn't seem as somber. I was sure he had to work through. I only talked to my Gran for the first month after my parents died, so I wasn't judging. We were pretty busy, as always for a Monday, so we didn't have a lot of time to talk. I took back to back calls, and I knew my drivers were getting frustrated with me, but it wasn't my fault. I let it roll off my back. They could be bitches, but I could deal with it.

I'd just gotten off the phone with a particularly bitchy customer with my head dropped back and my eyes closed. I was over the day. I needed to go home, grab a beer, and sit in the bath for a while. My eyes cracked open when I smelled Eric come into the room. He smelled like car parts over a light, fresh smell that wasn't at all offensive, unlike Des and Ras.

"What's up?" I asked, closing my eyes again.

"Nothing. I'm bored," he said in some weird accent.

I opened one eye so I was looking at him upside down. He looked funny from that angle.

"I can turn on some folk music and you can dance a jig," I replied, finishing in a horrible Irish accent. If he could do accents so could I.

"In Mother Russia, no happy dance allowed. They cut off foot," he said in a very convincing Russian accent.

"I don't think you'd miss the inches, Stretch," I said. I sat up straight and spun in the chair so I was facing him.

"I do have many inches," he smirked.

"Let me guess, everything on you is long and thick?" I smirked right back.

"Yes, that is correct." Eric returned to his post in the front when the phone rang.

I was sure that comment was true. It wasn't any of my business though. I rolled over to look out the door at Eric. He had a nice bum. His pants were nice and snug.

Okay, done with that line of thought.

I move back to my own desk and pulled up my Spotify. For once there was a lull in the calls so I started looking for something else to play. I'd been playing country all day, and it was time for a change. Of course I moved right into 90's alternative. Pearl Jam's Jeremy started to play. My head began to bob without thinking. I wouldn't dare try to sing along. I liked Eric too much to torture him with the sound of a cat being dragged behind a car.

I stood up to stretch and just when my shirt lifted above my waistline, flashing my belly Eric walked back in. His eyes shot straight to the newly exposed flesh.

"Ever see Operaman sing 'Even Flow'?" he asked.

"Nope," I answered. "I do like that song, though."

"You should YouTube it," he told me.