Page 29 of Coach
Alone, I wandered around the empty pool hall, taking note of all the unusual places I hadn’t thought to clean before, then headed into the back to grab supplies.
I was a solid hour into my cleaning when I realized I probably should have brought headphones and music or an audiobook. Because with my body busy, my mind was free to wander.
Right back to that elevator.
And each time the memory flashed, the desire ratcheted up until it became distracting, hard to think past.
“Ugh,” I grumbled, finishing cleaning the place from top to bottom. I even washed the dang walls.
There was an ever-present ache between my thighs as I went back to the supply closet to grab the same ladder I’d used the day before, determined to check the one final vent.
To be safe, I stuck my phone in my pocket in case I fell, then carefully made my way up.
Without anyone to knock into it this time, I was steady as I reached up to feel the amount of airflow coming out.
I had to admit that maybe Irina was right. It did seem to be a little more of a trickle than the other vents.
I pulled out a screwdriver from my work belt to remove the screws. Then, careful not to drop it, the vent cover.
When I reached inside, I expected to feel the usual: cobwebs, dust, grime, maybe a few random pieces of paper or plastic that found their way through the system.
That wasn’t what I found, though.
“What the hell?”
My hand met a whole wall of something.
Tucking the vent cover between my thighs to have my other hand free, I reached into the vent.
To start to pull out… a stack of cash.
“Whoa,” I said, shoving it back into place, my heart tripping into overdrive.
Had my bosses stuck it there? For safekeeping? Or, possibly, as a test?
Complain about the airflow to see if I would steal a stack of cash hidden inside?
There were a lot of cameras all over the place. Someone could be watching me right that moment.
Unsure what to do, I leaned forward, looking inside, finding a dozen or more other stacks of cash. And, yeah, they were totally piled in there in such a way to alter the airflow.
“Okay. Well…” I mumbled to myself.
I shoved my hand further in, quickly rearranging the stacks so they lined only one side of the duct, allowing a whoosh of cool air to finally break free.
Two birds.
One stone.
Prove to my bosses, if they were watching, that their money was safe with me. And also allow the air to come out, so Irina didn’t get mad at me.
Satisfied, I screwed the vent back on, wiped it down with a rag, then climbed back down.
And, really, I just forgot all about it.
It was just a nothing moment in a busy week of trying to set my new life up.
There were garage sales to hit up, old wooden dressers to sand down and finish, and a big, towering clubhouse to try really hard not to think about. Or, more precisely, a very hot man inside that warehouse I was trying not to think about.
