Page 1 of From Wink to Kink

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RUBY

My shiny newclogs are cute as hell, but are also deadly on anything but the smoothest surfaces.

Ask me how I know.

So while I exit the Civic Center light rail station, hustling the last two blocks of my commute, I’m extra-careful to avoid dips in the uneven street and cracks in the sidewalk. Of course I don’t want to wipe out on my way to work, that would suck, but I’m honestly more concerned about scuffing my pretty blue clogs.

What we do for shoes.

The San Francisco Public Library, majestic with its white granite face reflecting in the morning sun, comes into view, and despite my dangerous footwear, I pick up my pace as I thank the universe for the thousandth time for my job there. Even if it does consist of the shittiest of the shit work there is to do in a public library.

I have no right to complain. So, I’m not. Just stating a fact.

I’m late this morning.

While it’s only two minutes after the hour, I don’t like being late for anything, especially my job. So, when I finally burst through the doors and slow down enough to take a deep breath, I’m calmed and reassured by the familiar scent of mustiness and glue and something vaguely vanilla that I’ve been told is released by chemical compounds in books.

If I could bottle it, I swear I’d be a millionaire.

Instead, I’m a working girl who can’t afford to move out of my father’s house. I don’t buy anything that’s not been massively marked down, nor indulge in any sort of entertainment aside from snapping up cheap tickets to see obscure bands no one else will pay to see.

Clogs click-clacking across the tile floor, I make my way toward the staff locker room to drop off my backpack and jacket, avoiding looking at anyone to hide my shame in being tardy.

But in spite of my slinking, something feels off.

I pass the front desk, staffed by a couple library employees way more senior than me, and when I do, their chatter comes to an abrupt halt. I glance their way, paranoid one of them will say something about my lateness and when I do, they look away, busying themselves with what I know is BS work.

Whatever.

It’s all good until I pass a couple co-workers helping library patrons. They stop their work and look at each other before glancing back at me. Like they’re sharing some sort of secret. About me. That I know nothing of.

Fucking weird. I pretty much keep to myself at this job. I mean, I’m friendly and hard-working, but I don’t share much about my personal life. Not that there’s much to share, anyway.

Just before I get to the locker room, I throw a wave in the direction of the folks staffing the reference desk, where I hope to work someday. Instead of waving back, one of the women lets out a wild giggle before clamping a hand over her mouth, and theother gives her a sharp elbow to the ribs, followed by a kindly, sympathetic smile in my direction.

What I hoped would be some admiration for my new clogs is instead pitying looks aimed squarely at my face, tinged with a level of amusement that makes me want to crawl into the bin of to-be-shelved books and disappear.

My new-shoe-hard-on has been replaced with a limp and floppy sense of dread that something is seriously fucked up, and that I am somehow at the center of it.

“Ruby.Ruby,” a low, frantic voice hisses.

Matthew, my work BFF and fellow librarian, hurries toward me, waving his hands at waist height. I can’t decipher his weird gestures, so I just throw him a smile, jazz-handing him right back before opening the locker room door to stash my stuff.

“Hey, wait,” he calls.

I don’t listen.

Instead, I take a couple of steps toward my locker, then stop so hard he slams into the back of me. I stumble forward, bracing myself against the locker door, where a bright yellow post-it note screams at me like a beacon in the night.

Or maybe a scarlet letter.

“What the actual hell?” I mumble to no one.

The note, scribbled with what must have been a nice, new Sharpie pen, is easy to read against the yellow background.

Yo, Ruby, I’ve found someone new and better in bed. Regards, Tod.

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