“Thank you, Mr. Salvatore.” Iris called back to the resolute chauffeur in the luxury sedan through waning daylight. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Iris strode happily from the parking lot of her apartment complex to the quaint, dingy stoop in front of her door. She wheezed from excitement as she climbed the stairs and opened the front door, arriving breathlessly to find Byxx and Khazmine in the living room discussing something about their upcoming role-playing game. A quick turn at the entryway alcove revealed Zayzann hunched over in the kitchen, cooking the most decadent lemon and dill flavored fish in a glass baking dish for tonight’s dinner. For the first time all day, Iris sighed comfortably in the company of friends.
“Great news, everyone!” Iris waved her hand to grab their attention as she hung her faux leather bag on its hook in the entryway. “I was able to secure overtime for the next four days! Can you believe it?”
Byxx quirked a brow and looked to Khazmine for insight, not understanding what “overtime” meant, or why Iris would be so thrilled about its availability. His gaze narrowed as he spotted Khazmine’s ears draw back and brows pitch at Iris’s announcement. Despite Iris appearing to be happy about this news, the Augment’s expression hardened at the mention of overtime.
“Do you really have to go in to work this weekend?” Khazmine tilted her head and stared intently at Iris, who was still panting and out of breath. “You had promised to spend some time with us for the holiday. What was it again, the July of Fourths?”
“Fourth of July.” Iris corrected pleasantly through a ragged breath. “You’re right, Khaz. Normally, I would stay home, and we could have a little celebration amongst ourselves. But Mr. Maker promised me time and a half for working the shifts that one of the girls couldn’t make it to. Think of all the money I could earn with those extra hours.”
“Are we struggling?” Byxx cut in after he set down the hardcover tome and looked up at Iris from his seat on the storage ottoman. “Why do you need so much money?”
Zayzann’s ears pricked up with interest at their conversation, and he quietly padded into the entryway behind Iris to hear more. He noticed Iris was leaning against the wall to remain upright, and witnessed her uneasy stance as Byxx pressed her for answers.
“I, that is, we had a shortfall for the mortgage that was due two weeks ago.” Iris confessed. Her hand that met the supporting wall was pale, sweaty, and trembling. “I need to come up with $650 or else.”
“Or else what? What happened?” Byxx stood up from the ottoman, knocking one of the books from the coffee table to the floor as he rose.
“My sister, Lily, well, she had an emergency and spent some of the mortgage money to get out of a jam.” Iris bowed her head and cast her gaze to the carpeted floor. “We can’t count on her to help pay off what’s due, or the late fees that come with not paying on time.”
“So, she’s done it again, has she?” Khazmine’s eyes burned with intensity, enough to cast a faint blue glow in their sockets. “What’s the excuse this time, hmm? Wanted a new vehicle? Expensive jewelry? A lavish meal?”
“It was… a guitar.” Iris winced with dry eyes that were sore from the day’s tears and troubles. “I’ve already called to admonish her, but it’s too late. She can’t return it, so what’s done is done. I need to make up the difference, or we could lose the house.”
The living room filled with the stink of ozone, and the hairs on Byxx’s arms stood on end. It was as if lightning could strike inside the living room at any moment, leaving Byxx with an elevated heart rate and tensed muscles in his limbs. He turned his head toward Khazmine and found her practically shaking with rage, her hands knotted like fists and plates jingling faintly as they clacked together like windchimes foretelling a storm.
“Khazmine, please, don’t be angry with me.” Iris pleaded with a pained tension of brows and ears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be upset about missing the holiday weekend.”
Gods old and new, that’s what she’s worried about? Byxx stood by in astonishment. Not that her sister risked their house for a toy, but that we would be upset about her missing a holiday?
The change in air pressure and new stress on Iris cultivated a perfect storm of conditions for her headache to return with unexpected intensity. Iris raised her hands to clasp her head, causing her to lose her balance and tumble against the wall and back into Zayzann’s reflexively open arms. He pushed gently against her frail body and felt the bones in her rib cage under the flimsy, threadbare cloth that passed for a cardigan. Something warm and wet dropped onto his hand as he shifted positions to disengage from holding her.
“KNOCK IT OFF, KHAZ!” Byxx shouted in the Augment’s face, which caused her concentration to break and plates to silence their dreadful jingling. “Oh gods, Iris!”
Her body went slack in Zayzann’s arms, catching him off-guard, and forcing the Paxoram to hoist Iris by the waist to prevent her from crashing to the floor. His hand and arm tensed at the renewed sensation of warm droplets striking his feathers. Byxx rushed forward as Iris tilted her head back to look at Zayzann, revealing tears welling up in her weary eyes and a long, dark trickle of blood gushing from her nose.
“I’m s-sorry.” Iris’s shoulders tensed and she fought off sobs. “I didn’t think…”
“Tilt her head forward.” Byxx instructed Zayzann as he grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table and pinched Iris’s nose at the bridge. “It’s okay, honey. Take it easy. That’s it, nice, slow breaths through your mouth, okay?”
Khazmine remained motionless, silently watching the archfiend offer first aid to the sickly Summoner, with her upper lip twitching and her face contorted at the sight of Iris’s pain. This same woman who struggled with the notion of disappointing her roommates over a holiday celebration was a suspected thief and corporate spy. It was all so laughable that Khazmine had entertained the idea that Iris could have stolen from the same company she was eager to continue toiling endlessly for.
Watching her shaking on the floor, Khazmine turned her head to avoid seeing Iris cry. Her cursed, sensitive ears funneled the pained sounds of despair directly at Khazmine, and she shuddered from guilt and shame. An agitated, anxious impulse forced Khazmine’s body to jolt at intervals.
She unclenched her fists and scanned the walls to see which was the most punchable. Not that it would have made anything better, but at least Khazmine had hoped to feel less foolish and irritated once she’d relieved herself of this pent-up frustration. She abandoned the thought once she’d realized that punching a wall would only anger her roommates and frighten Iris.
“There we go. Good job, sweetheart.” Byxx coaxed and comforted as he released his hold on her nose. “Do you think you could eat or drink anything, or would you rather rest?”
“I’m so tired…” Iris sighed through lidded eyes. “But I’ll try to eat something. That fish smelled so good earlier. I can’t really smell anything right now though.”
Dinner was a somber, torturously silent affair, with only the occasional clinking of utensils to punctuate the awkwardness. Iris managed to eat a generous helping of fish and a few nibbles of crackers in soup before retiring to the bedroom alone. She slept with her weary body propped up against the headboard and rested against a small stack of pillows to avoid another nosebleed. She was gone by the time the roommates woke on Saturday morning.
And so, it went throughout the hot, muggy weekend, with Iris trudging to work and returning home exhausted and ashamed. By Monday afternoon, the roommates still hadn’t had the chance to ask Iris about the flash drive and spent their quiet days in a state of melancholy instead. From outside the apartment, neighborhood children were playing in the parking lot and the grassy patch where a jungle gym used to be, eagerly awaiting the Fourth of July celebration once the sun set.
Recovered and well rested from the three day weekend, Alden Cavendish stood up from his dark walnut dining room table with a mug of Iris’s honey and lemon beverage in hand. He had heard the unmistakable sound of one of the four-car garage doors open, and sauntered to the adjoining door to see what Salvatore was up to on this hot, stifling Fourth of July afternoon.
“Hey, Uncle Sal.” Alden called out from the open doorway, leaning against the frame and looking out at the afternoon sun reflecting off the nearby pond. “What are you doing? Don’t you know what day it is?”
“Indeed, I do, sir.” Salvatore continued to wipe the side mirror he was cleaning with a microfiber cloth without looking at Alden. “You had instructed me to ensure the safe arrival and departure of Ms. Alcazar, and that includes weekends and holidays.”
“Wait, what?” Alden set his mug down inside the lavish, midcentury mansion and trotted out to meet Salvatore at the sedan. “Have you been taking her to and from the office the last few days?”
“Yes, sir. I thought you knew.” Salvatore explained how Iris had requested his services to allow her to secure much-needed overtime, and how excited Iris was to have company for the rides to and from the lonely office. Salvatore had gladly agreed to drive, stating that she was an affable lass. “She is very dedicated, and is always waiting for me at the appointed times.”
Salvatore reached into the back seat to retrieve a familiar set of folded clothing, which Alden had last seen draped in Iris’s kitchen sink to dry. He handed the freshly laundered clothing to Alden with great care, yet the scent of spring shower laundry detergent wafted delicately in the spacious garage. Alden recognized the refreshing scent, and inhaled deeply to better appreciate its gentle presence.
“I’m loathe to admit, sir, that Ms. Alcazar looked rather pale this morning.” Salvatore closed the back driver’s side door and resumed his expert care of the sedan. “And her spirits seemed low, despite it being a holiday.”
Alden ran a thumb over the folded clothing in his hands. Iris had spent the entire weekend working, yet she still managed to launder and fold his clothing, and return it through Salvatore. The muscles in his neck tightened and an unsettled feeling poked and prodded at the back of his mind. Alden peered at his watch and ran numbers in his head before glancing back at Salvatore and issuing his directives.
“Your services are no longer required this evening.” Alden reached out his hand expectantly for the car keys. “Please head home and enjoy some time off with the family.”
“But sir, what about the young lady?” Salvatore protested. “I was already working today to arrange transport for your launch parties next week. It’s no trouble to pick up Ms. Alcazar, truly.”
“Go home, Sal.” Alden placed a friendly hand on Salvatore’s shoulder and gave him a gentle nudge of encouragement. “I've got this.”
Comments (2)
See all