Page 1 of Her Dragon Outlaw

1

LORI

“Shit!”

My shift at Hot Shots, a local coffee shop, was going relatively well. That is, until Julie comes around the corner and spills a latte on me. It soaks through the black apron and seeps into my white uniform. I‘m lucky the customer ordered it iced, or I’d be dealing with burns. Instead, I'm just wet and cold.

“Oh, my god. I'm so, so sorry, Lori, I...” Julie babbles as she grabs a wad of napkins from the counter and proceeds to press them into my chest. Not wanting to be groped — even unintentionally — by a coworker, I step back.

“I’ll handle it. There are customers waiting,” I say, doing my best to keep the annoyance out of my voice. It's pointless to be upset with her. It was an accident.

I rush to the employee bathroom in the back, thankful it's unoccupied. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and type out ‘how to rinse coffee stains’ while untying the apron with the other hand. According to a quick search, rinsing in cold water for ten to fifteen minutes is the best first step.

Well, there goes my morning break. Locking the door behind me, I strip.

In a logical world, this wouldn't count as my break, but we don't live in a logical world. In a logical world, I wouldn't be busting my ass barely managing to make ends meet month to month. I certainly wouldn't be on the hook for my own uniform.

But I am, and I can't afford to buy a new one right now. So, I just have to hope I can rinse this stain out enough to salvage this one.

I alternate between rinsing my shirt and pants out, standing there in the bathroom, just accepting that my bra and underwear are going to be stained. It's not like anyone but me has been seeing those for a while now, anyway.

I shove the thought away. I don't have enough time for dating right now. Definitely not enough time to think about how much time I don't have for dating.

There's still a bit of a stain as I wring out the shirt and pants the best I can, putting them back on. It feels gross to be wearing damp clothes, but it's not like I have a lot of options. I look in the mirror and see my damp uniform has turned slightly transparent. I'm glad I'll be able to grab a fresh apron, because I'm not looking to enter a wet T-shirt contest today.

Though, I have to say, I think I would do fairly well. I look a little bedraggled after my run in with Julie, but I try my best to look good. My long blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail, keeping it out of my pale blue eyes. The wet shirt and pants are a little clingy now, showing off my slim but curvy frame.

I step out of the bathroom and snag a fresh apron. The wet T-shirt look might get me a few more tips, but I'm not that desperate ... yet. I head out front and get back to work.

By the end of my shift, the shirt and pants have dried enough that I can leave the apron behind and take the bus without putting on a show for the other passengers. I pretreat my uniform and rinse out my bra and underwear. Then I add everything to the laundry pile, hoping the rest of the stain washes out.

After putting on fresh, dry clothes, I sit on my worn-down, threadbare couch. I reach for the library book on ancient Roman architecture that I left sitting on my coffee table this morning.

It might not be what a lot of people would imagine a 24-year-old doing with their evening, but it's not bad. I don't own a TV and can't afford any of the streaming services on my phone, even if I could pay for the data it would take to stream them.

Even if I had those options, I'd probably still be reading. Architecture is a passion of mine. I wanted to go to college and then grad school for it, but that wasn't in the cards for me. I was poor enough to qualify for the loans, but the thought of owing so much money after, made me think I should try to earn some cash first.

But since I didn't have a degree, I was stuck with jobs like the coffee shop. Those jobs, of course, leave you not earning enough to get by, much less get ahead. It's a vicious cycle, and my mind is too caught up in it to absorb any of what I'm reading.

"Fuck it. I'm going for a walk," I say to my empty apartment.

I hope some fresh air will clear my head. It's a fairly pleasant summer evening as I walk around the neighborhood. The area could be nicer, but it could be a lot worse. At least it's safe enough for me to take a walk without worrying I'll get clubbed over the head.

Something catches my eye. Stapled to a telephone pole is a flier with $500 written on it in big block letters. I walk up and see that it's offering payment for testing a new drug.

There are little perforated strips on the bottom with the phone number to call, 555-7787, printed on it. I reach my hand up to take one but hesitate.

On the one hand, it's testing an experimental drug being advertised on a flier. On the other, it's $500.

Taking the strip of paper, I pull out my phone and dial the number.

"Hello, Miller Laboratories. This is Carmen speaking. How can I help you?"

2

CODY

Istep into the apartment building and see Agent Vince Ackerman is already on the scene. His face looks grim.

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