Page 2 of A Labor of Hate
I clawed desperately at my slipping composure as I finally found a parking spot at the back of the lot.This wasn’t me.Not the typical me, anyway.The me I’d meticulously curated since my first day in Quantico, he get-it-done workhorse who didn’t let anything shake her—visibly, at least.Work was the one place I felt I made a difference, the one place I could leave my day-to-day worries at the door while I focused on helping others with bigger problems.
But today was different.
I scrambled out of the car and ran to the doors.Once my shoes touched the sidewalk, I slowed and forced myself to take deep breaths before I went swan diving off the rails.I could do this.My late arrival might start me off on the wrong foot with my supervisory agent, but I’d earn their respect through my work ethic, just like I always had to.
I nodded curtly in greeting to the guard operating the security checkpoint, passing the necessary items onto the conveyor belt.Eight twenty-four.Only nine minutes late.Barring any serious delays getting through security and to my floor, I could salvage this morning.Easy peasy.
That optimistic belief was going swimmingly—until a pair of loud guys with serious BO problems jostled me in the elevator.The coffee I’d managed to keep contained thus far slipped out of my hand.As if in slow motion, it dropped like an anchor, only to burst open on the floor.Hot coffee splashed up my slacks and soaked into my shoes.
I stared in shock, barely registering one guy’s snide remark about how I needed to watch where I was going, and the other guy’s instant apology on his colleague’s behalf.This couldn’t be happening.This had to be a nightmare.Surely I was still sleeping and this whole half hour from Hell was a byproduct of the asbestos in my apartment’s walls or something.
My smarting and squelchy shoes said otherwise.
Don’t cry.Don’t cry.Don’t cry.
I sniffed back the sting behind my eyes and let it crystallize into volcanic malice.My whole body shook, though whether it was from rage or the effort it took to keep from blowing a gasket on them, I couldn’t say.Whatever the men saw, it must’ve been a pretty transparent reflection of my emotional state.
The guy who bumped me—the scrawnier of the two—backed away with wide eyes.“It was an accident, lady.Geez.Chill.”
His colleague, the one who actually had manners, elbowed him in the side.Hard.“What he meant to say is that he’s sorry, and will you pretty please not beat us up?”He elbowed his coworker again and bugged his eyes meaningfully in the direction of the coffee puddle.“Help her clean it up, man.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know, your shirt, maybe?Just pick something before she kills us!”
I growled in frustration, plucking my travel cup off the floor and stepping out of the puddle.It was already eight twenty-six.I didn’t have time for this.In fact, I hadnegativetime for this.
“Forget it,” I grumbled, right as the elevator stopped at my floor.
When I moved to exit, they flinched away.If only I was in a headspace to appreciate it.
Coffee squished between my toes and steamed my feet in their socks as I left a trail of wet footprints in my wake.Like Hansel and Gretel, except Gretel is one minor inconvenience away from committing a felony.
The travel cup dripped its remnants down my arm, soaking into my coat and leaving yet another body part sticky.Because why not?After this disaster of a morning, what was one more straw on the already-loaded camel’s back?
My shoes announced my arrival before I’d even cleared the first desk in my new squad’s area.Heads swung in my direction and popped up from desks like gophers.My insides crawled with mortification, and I itched to shrink away.Maybe jump out the window and never return.I could live off the land for a good two hours, at least.Possibly seven if the “land” in question happened to be close to a McDonald’s.Anything would be better than facing my new colleagues like this.
The man closest to me cleared his throat, drawing my attention in that direction.Andholy wowza, was it a good direction to pick.
He stood almost a foot taller than me, lean and broad-shouldered and gorgeous, even with his buttoned-up appearance.Freckles dotted his fair skin, creating a roadmap to his rich brown eyes with the longest, most luscious eyelashes I’d ever seen.His dark brown hair was neatly combed, and even the few strands that were tastefully ruffled seemed completely intentional.
Everythingabout him was intentional.Controlled.From his pressed shirt to his ironed slacks to his polished shoes to his arched brow.The room itself seemed under his control.
Our surroundings blurred until he was the only thing in crystal clear focus.His presence was so magnetic it felt there was a physical weight squeezing the air from my lungs.In that moment, it even felt like the birds outside didn’t sing without this man’s permission.He was cool, collected, and everything I wasn’t.
Especially today.
His brow rose even higher as his eyes deliberately swept me up and down, pausing at my unruly hair, the wrinkles in my shirt, the coffee stains up my pants, and my soaked shoes.His lips pressed into a thin line.Disgusted.And then, he very obviously looked at his watch, back at my soaked shoes, and back at his watch.
“Twelve minutes late on your first day, huh?”
He didn’t say it particularly rudely, but it was enough.In fact, it wastoo much—his perfect appearance, his holier-than-thou look, his obvious acknowledgment of my predicament without so much as an offer to help.It all compounded on top of the hurricane swirling around inside me, tipping the scales the last little bit.Breaking the camel’s back.
I snapped.
“Take a picture, Peewee.It’ll last longer.”
Another agent, a decidedly less stunning brunette, barked a laugh.“Peewee!That’s a good one!”
