Chapter 17

"First thing is 8 AM," the voice of Michael Burke coming from my cell phone explained.

"Maybe that is true for you, but first thing for me is 8:30 AM and that's about the time I will arrive at the office. So go have a cup of coffee and a donut, and put it on my bill."

"Damn woman, I have way more to do than drink coffee. Okay, I do need to run by the drugstore. I'll do that first."

I pushed the end key, then got my ass busy. I had managed the morning shower, but I still had wet hair. I knew that I could either dry my almost non-existent hair and do my makeup, or I could drink a cup of coffee. Since I promised not to run over any more kids while they waited for the school bus, I opted for the coffee.

When I drove into the parking lot of Ed's converted service station, my hair, if it had been longer, would have been a rat's nest, and my face looked like that of a corpse, but I was on time. It was a good thing too, since Michael drove in right behind me.

"There you are, I was beginning to worry," I said, as I climbed down from the van.

"Right," he said, with a sarcastic smile. "It's a little chilly this morning. Any chance I can get you to make some coffee while I do this?"

"I am going to make coffee. If you want a cup, I can spare it," I replied.

Once inside the office, I removed the knit cap, which covered my still almost bald head, then started the coffee pot. I put the small plastic water bottle filled with coffee from home into the microwave. Two and a half minutes later, I poured the coffee into my coffee cup. "That prick outside can wait for his," I mumbled. While Michael worked on the van, I laid out my plan of attack for the day. It included serving our two hard to find people, as well as two new ones who came in late the day before.

"I see Michael the sign guy is hard at work," Ed suggested, when he came in around 9 AM.

"Yes, damn guy called me at home to ask where the hell I was." I said that with what I am sure was a dark look.

"Oh what time was that?" Ed asked.

"8 fucking o'clock," I replied.

"Really were you alone?"

"Ed, that was a rude thing to ask, but yes, I was alone and awake. I was also soaking wet."

"Oh, you left home with wet hair from the shower. I didn't know, Max. It could have been wet and tangled from your bedroom gymnastics."

"First of all, my hair is too short to be tangled, and secondly, how would you know about my gymnastics?"

"Hell, Honey, everyone in town knows," he said, smiling at me.

"Not that many know first hand," I replied.

"Oh hell, it's even better that way. That way there are not as many who can deny your superhuman exploits." He did at least laugh.

"Right, I'm middle-aged. It's a miracle that I can ever find anyone to screw me. They say the odds are better I will be killed in a terrorist attack than get laid." I gave him a sick laugh. "What man wants to screw an almost bald, middle aged, bitchy broad?"

"Are you taking applications?" The voice came from the front of the office. It belonged to a young man who was way too clean cut looking to really be interested in me.

"Sure, leave your resume, with references, on the desk"

"Hey, Joey, do you have my money?" Ed asked.

"Yes, Mr. Martin, I have your bloodsucking fee."

"Now, Joey, if you keep your daddy out of those bars, then you won't have to pay my bloodsucking fee."

"It's easier to pay your fee, than to keep him away from the bars. He did go to two meetings since he got out on bail."

"Well, keep him going, you just never know when they might take hold." Ed accepted the check the young man handed him. "Do you need a receipt?"

"I never have before." He smiled at Ed then turned to me and said, "As for you, if you combed your fussy hair and put on some makeup, you would be adequate looking. Good enough to take to a dark college bar anyway."

"If that is an invitation, how could I turn it down?"

"Then meet me on Friday at the 'Dungeon' at 8 PM." He said.

"Okay, but damn it, you are paying, I'm sure you can afford the 'Dungeon, ' it's where the winos drink during the daylight," I replied.

"Alright, but only if you don't drink too much."

"I never drink THAT much," I said with a wicked smile. After he had gone I asked Ed, "What's his story."

"His dad is a drunk, one who doesn't know enough to stop driving. He will probably do thirty days on the farm this time. It's a big game, I think. They arrest him whenever they see him. His lawyer gets it reduced to reckless driving or some such bullshit and he does thirty days. Then he comes out and it starts all over again."

"I don't have much patience for drunk drivers. They eventually kill or maim someone." I meant it too.

"Yes they do, but unlike you, men don't usually have people offering them a place to stay while they sober up." Ed wasn't judging me; he was just stating a fact.

I shook my head and went back to the papers on my desk. Since my thin hair was about dry, I went to the bathroom to try to comb it. No matter what I did, it was just an inch long limp mess. Since I shaved my head a couple of weeks before, it had started to grow back, but it wasn't any thicker. I had hoped it would be. I looked like a teenage boy with an inch long crew cut that just laid flat. I had been tempted to go with a dyke look. Hair all spiked up and a leather collar around my neck. I just felt a little old for that look.

There wasn't much I could do about the hair, but I could at least put on some makeup. The foundation added some color to my pale face. The tiny bit of rouge on my cheeks reduced the cadaver look to a minimum. I tried to stay away from red lipstick, so I went with a dark rose color. A little eye shadow completed my painted on face look.