Page 2 of Grayson

Rose Mason is a breath of fresh air. It’s almost like she knows when we all need her the most. She’s become a big part of our lives here at the station. She is sassy and sweet, and can hold her own in a room of burly firefighters. A five foot lovable granny who always showered us all with yummy treats.

Climbing out of the rig she steps inside and offers each of us her kind smile. “Fresh baked cookies and muffins for my boys.” She lifts the contents in her hands. “I already took the other two containers upstairs.” Her smile beams. She knows us all so well.

We all move forward circling her and we wrap her in our arms and she giggles with joy.

Little Rose Mason is exactly what we all needed. She grounded us all.

Oscar lets out a bark, before jumping up and pawing at us, wanting to be included.

And just like that the rush, the high I’d been riding for the last couple hours, seems to level out.

2

Skye Simmons

Climbing into my car, I pull the door closed and lean my head back against the worn-out headrest of my old Prius. A car that has seen better days but still gets me from point A to point B. She may stutter and choke, but dammit she hasn’t failed me so far.

Closing my eyes I allow myself to roll over the events of the day. I’ll admit I was nervous, not knowing what to expect when I walked in the door of Sensational Salon. Would I fit in? Would everyone look at me as an inexperienced little girl that they wouldn’t allow near them with a pair of scissors?

But I’m happy to say I was so wrong.

From the moment I walked through the glass doors and into the posh atmosphere, I was in awe. Everyone was so kind and helpful and the clients were amazing. I was surrounded by the best kind of people, those that accepted the new girl, and never once treated me as though I didn’t belong.

I’m tired.

My feet and back hurt and my hands are waterlogged from the various shampoos I provided, but I’ve never been so happy to be exhausted.

A day doing something I love is so much better than the long endless nights working the register at the minimart a few blocks from my apartment.

That job paid pennies and I busted my ass. But I had done what I had to do to put food on the table.

I never considered at the age of twenty I’d be raising a preteen, but when I got the call that my parents had been in an accident and they hadn’t survived, my life changed. So did the life of my then twelve-year-old sister. We needed one another to get through it all, we are still grieving. Still trying to find our way, still fighting like sisters, but living like two best friends. Tori and I are fire and ice. She is sassy, opinionated, and loud. She doesn’t care who you are, she can just meet you and if she has something to say, she is going to say it. Don’t expect her to filter her words, be ready for a storm if you piss her off too, because she is a bear.

Me, I tend to be the one that’s the problem solver, the lover not the fighter. I also have a bad habit of withdrawing and instead of fighting my way through, I just say forget it all and take a new path.

Like I said yin and yang.

But Tori, she is amazing. I adore her and would do anything for her. Which is why I spent my days going through school and my nights working until close, barely sleeping and pinching pennies to give her all I could while I let my own needs go. She came first, and whatever was left I made work.

She’d already lost so much, and I know I had too, but my God she was twelve when she was picked up at a sleepover by an officer only to be brought to the hospital in the middle of the night.

Together we cried for hours, me a baby myself was now responsible for a twelve-year-old. I quit school, got the first job I could find, and took what money my parents had set aside to get us a two bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood. I don’t let Tori see me struggle and hope that I hide it well.

I want her to be a kid.

Taking in another deep breath I gather myself and drive home with a smile on my face. For once I feel as though things might actually be okay.

Fifteen minutes later I pull into the parking lot and start to turn into my assigned parking space, only to slam on the brakes.

A familiar growl rumbles in my chest when I see the ridiculous motorcycle that has taken up my space far too many times.

We have assigned spaces, so why does my annoying, ridiculously loud in his extracurricular activities neighbor insist on taking my space all the time!

Backing up I take one of the spots meant for visitors and grab my purse, climbing out of the car. The door squeaks as I use my hip to shove it closed. I glare at the bike as I pause, as if it’s the machine’s fault. Its owner is an asshole.

My mood has soured, that man has ruined my happy high.

Walking past his door, I narrow my gaze and flip off the door, as if that fixes everything.

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