Page 1 of Fate's Dice

CHAPTER ONE

‘SICK AND TIRED’ IANN DIOR

Sometimes it's during the tedious tasks in your daily routine that you find yourself in the wildest situations. Yes, it's very fucking rare you'll find yourself in one of those crazy scenarios you imagine while sweeping floors, or something as equally mind numbing and dull, but once in a while, fate has a sick sense of humor.

For me, it was while I was wiping off fingerprints and other strange smudges from the plexiglass of the teller's window, that fate dropped tall dark and fuck me into my life.

Only, this guy wore a suit and a ski mask.

Recently, I quit my job as a club dancer because I was tired of all the hours and sleazy assholes. There’s just not enough money to be made when the clientele is worth shit.

I was asked by my mother, Raquel, to step in for her at her work when she fell on the job and severely sprained her ankle. She doesn't have health insurance because shit is crazy expensive here in Chicago.

The bank she works for isn't much of a bank. It's more like a place to cash your peewee checks without a lot of questions. The fast-food version of banks.

They pay my mother every week under the table, but unlike other companies who take advantage of the poor souls, this bank does its best to treat her fairly. Alas, there's nothing they can do to help her with medical. In order not to lose her job, I stepped in for her so here I am, cleaning before opening hours at the ass crack of dawn.

Popping in my wired earbuds—yes, this bitch doesn't have Apple, I have oranges; I swipe my phone and begin playing my favorite music while daydreaming of a better life.

'Sick and Tired' by Iann Dior and MGK blasts through my head as I dance and empty the trash bins before putting in fresh bags.

This song is just so perfect, the words speak to me like nothing else.

Though I’m an adult with a job and social life, I've never fit in. I've tried many things in my short twenty-two years, trying to find who I am as a woman; dating, partying, job jumping… but I still haven’t foundme.

In all honesty, I'm just floating.

I let the waves of life take me back and forth. I’ve given up fighting against the current, I just hope one day, a wave that’s big enough—strong enough—will help me touch land.

I didn't graduate because I needed to help my mom make rent and bills or we'd be fucked. She always fought me on dropping out, but as much as I wanted to go to college, my mother's sanity mattered most. I can always take online classes one day, for now I just want to keep her from an early grave.

Something my father should have done but he walked out on us before I was born. I shake my head from those angering thoughts.

Our small one-bedroom apartment is a little hole in the wall, but it's home. It's where I was born, literally, and its four walls have seen every tear I've spilled along with every moment of joy.

My mother and I used to share the bed, but we haven't since I grew boobs and couldn't fit next to her on the twin-size mattress any longer. I tried buying a queen-size but, even used, they are expensive and we're already living paycheck-to-paycheck, so I just steam-cleaned a new-to-me twin size and created a wall from a shower curtain in the living room.

God, my life sounds pitiful, but I have to say, my mom created a life of unconditional love within our little home.

Though I want more for her, I'd be lying if I said I was unhappy.

Sure, we don’t have all the latest electronics or high-end clothing, but I have a lot compared to others in the hood.

Hell, I have more than some rich kids.

Money doesn't buy it all. I've seen some people who have money spilling from their ears, but they lack a warm and loving home.

Sometimes, money covers your eyes, and you miss the beauty before you.

Still, I wouldn’t mind rolling in it.

I spray some watered-down window solution along the plexiglass divider, scrubbing at the damn smudges, annoyed with the stubborn marks.

What the hell do the customers do to get these prints all over the glass? The fuck… are these lip prints? There are some crazy ass people in the ghetto.

Shaking my head, I finish with the outside and use the key to open the door to the teller's area. I avoid the computers and desks like my mother instructed me and restart the process of cleaning the inside of the windows. Thankfully, they're less dirty.

The beat of the music has me stopping and closing my eyes, swaying and dancing along. Head banging like the little emo I am at heart.

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