Page 108 of Crimson Promises
“Give me an hour, and I’ll be right there,” I finished for her. I began pulling on my favorite light-washed denim jeans and a royal blue sweater.
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“Truly, I don’t mind. I’ve been going stir-crazy in my place all day. It’ll be nice to get out of the house, and it sounds like you could use the extra help.” Jean was one of the best managers I could have ever asked for. She was funny and direct. We shared a love of books, and she trusted me to do the job well. I didn’t have many strong female figures in my life growing up. Jean was a lucky and rare find.
“Brilliant! Take your time. I’ll have a matcha latte waiting for you when you arrive.”
“You know the way to my heart.”
“This is purely a selfish motivator. I need you energized. We're going to need all of the caffeine we can get.”
“More accurate words were never stated.”
“Cheerio, darling! See you shortly.”
“Ciao,” I lamely tried to match her European greeting with one of the only ones I knew.
Once Jean had ended the call, I set a timer on my phone for thirty minutes. Fortunately, Dad had left me well-stocked during the few days I was in the hospital. Under the kitchen sink was a new box of heavy-duty garbage bags. I pulled out three and strode into my room. This mess had to go before heading to work.
I implemented a system. For each item of clothing I picked up, I’d give myself five seconds to see if I’d worn it in the last year or planned to wear it this year. If not, it was going in the bag for donations. If after five seconds I didn’t have an answer, it was going in the bag. I didn’t need all this stuff. All of the clothes took up space. I planned on heading to Canmore, decluttered and stress-free.
When the timer went off on my phone, I had five garbage bags full of clothing and piles on my bed of things I loved. Garments I wear every day or over and over again, and pieces I could pair with others. Who knew organizing could feel this freeing? Less felt like more.
The bags were placed alongside the wall of my foyer.I’ll bug Vic to help me bring some of these down later. I juggled my keys from one hand to the other. Technically, I promised Ben not to leave my place, and at the time, it was done in good faith. As I shut the door and pulled the key out of the lock, I rationalized Ben would understand. I’m going to work, not to hang out at a nightclub in the middle of the night. I would be cautious and take the threats seriously, unlike before, but I refused to become a prisoner in my own life. I’ve never lived like that, and I wouldn’t start now. Plus, we’ve already been attacked by a demon today. Surely, there would be some respite between attacks to give Lucifer time to regroup. What harm could come from working in a secured library?
* * *
As promised, Jean was waiting at the circulation desk with a large matcha latte.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Jean was paler than usual and had dark circles ringing her eyes.
“Anything for you.” I winked at her as I took the beverage. I hummed as I took my first sip. My dad always made fun of me for drinking matcha. He said it smelled and tasted like grass. It reminded me of red wine or dark chocolate, a mild bitterness on my tongue and a touch of sweet nuttiness. Add a little bit of honey for some sweetness, and it was chef's kiss.
“No Chelsea today?” I nodded towards the vacant chair.
“Conveniently, she decided to take her break when she found out I was waiting for you.”
“Such a shame I missed her,” I added sweetly.
“So, you do have some claws.”
“Not really. Something about Chelsea tends to bring them out in me.”
“Don’t blame you. The woman is great at her job, horrible to manage, though.” She chuckled to herself. “Probably shouldn’t have told another employee that.”
“My lips are sealed. I’m a vault of silence.”
“Noted. Let’s get started then, shall we?”
“After you.”
Instead of heading to where we usually worked, she climbed two sets of stairs and waved her pass at a rectangular room that was covered in frosted glass that concealed the contents of the room. A set of double doors automatically opened once the light outside of the room went from red to green.
Jean stepped into the room without explanation. I had to take three giant steps to keep up. The last thing I wanted was for the doors to close and still be left outside. That’d be embarrassing.
There was indeed a long table that added to the feel of this being a boardroom. Two rolling chairs were set at either end; between them lay a sea of books.
Behind the long table was a skinny stretch of cabinets topped with a white countertop. Mounted above it was a sleek flat-screen television. Not as big as the one at Ben’s apartment, but still sizable. Two laptops sat next to each other on the countertop.
