On Monday morning, Liz had to drag Valeria out of bed kicking and screaming. Victoria was no help at all. She actually left for school without her sister, meaning Liz had to drive the tardy sophomore herself.
“I didn’t sleep well because of my allergies,” Val said without apology. It was enough to make Liz give up on not only her stepsisters, but quite possibly on ever having any children of her own, too.
All of this made her late for her job, but thankfully her manager didn’t seem to mind.
“Rough night?” her boss, Sofia Stepanov, asked with a subtle quirk of her lips that was decidedly not a smile. Sofia often looked amused, but very rarely smiled.
“Rough morning more like,” Liz answered with a sigh. “I have never in my life been so happy to come to work for an opening shift.”
“Keep talking like that and I just may have to give you a raise,” Sofia said, heading toward the display window with new outfits for the mannequins. Her knee-length polka-dotted skirt swished as she walked with bold strides and a practiced swing to her hips.
Even though they worked at a trendy chain store, Liz was pretty sure her boss wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the clothing—employee discount or no. Sofia was everything their store wasn’t. She’d dyed her naturally blonde hair black with a slight tint of purple. Her snowy complexion was offset with flared eyeliner and a bright red lip, and though she was stylish in what she chose to wear, her outfits looked as if they belonged to a 1950's pinup model rather than a twenty-first century retail franchise manager.
Sofia caught Liz staring and offered one of her rare smiles. “Like it?”
“I’m sorry. My mind was somewhere else entirely,” she answered, realizing then that while she’d been looking at Sofia, she’d been thinking of that creep, Dorian.
“You sure you don’t need a sick day or something?”
Liz shook her head. “I’m not sick.”
“A mental health day?”
“C’mon,” Liz said, finally smiling herself. “We both know if the company allowed mental health days you’d never even bother to show up for work.”
“Hardy har har,” Sofia shot back sarcastically. “Hey, did I show you my new tattoo?”
“No, and I don’t want to see it if it’s not somewhere decent.” Liz rushed to cover her eyes. Sofia was known for flashing her backside to any who asked to see the first of her twelve tattoos, a crescent moon that rose over her right butt cheek.
“Relax, it’s just on my shoulder.” Sofia undid the top two buttons on her dress and slid the sleeve down to show a patch of reddened skin and a new watercolor tattoo - an apple with a snake wrapped around it.
“Uhh, it’s nice, I guess.” Liz would never tarnish her skin like that. Besides, she couldn’t think of a single thing she loved enough to emblazon upon her body forever. And with needles, too. Yup, no thank you.
Sofia gave her a devilish look, even though they both knew she was one of the nicest people in all of Alaska. “The forbidden fruit,” she explained, pointing to her chest. “Because things are always more fun when you aren’t supposed to have them. People, too.”
“Whatever you say, Sofia.” Sometimes Liz wondered if they would be friends were it not for work. While she liked Sofia’s individuality and brazen disregard for other people’s opinions, Liz had to confess that the two of them were as different as any two people could come.
“You know I’m right,” her manager answered with a wink, buttoning her shirt back up. “Now tell me about your weekend, Miss Manners.”
Liz told her about the wedding, the missing place setting on the stage, even the weird interrogation on the dance floor from Dorian. Somehow it felt safer confiding these things in Sofia rather than in Scarlett or Lauren. Besides, if push came to shove, her manager would always have her back—and Liz didn’t doubt the woman knew how to get the best of just about anybody in a fight.
“I would have slapped that woman,” Sofia declared. “That would really give the reporter guy something to write about. Society.” She rolled her eyes. “What are we living in, the eighteenth century?”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that point,” Liz said as she carried some new stock from the back room and began to parse some of their older pieces for the clearance rack. “And I wish I could give Vanessa a piece of my mind, but it would hurt my dad too much.”
Sofia tsked. For as tough as she seemed on the outside, Liz knew very well she kept her heart in a carefully concealed box, locked away deep inside her chest. “You’re a saint. And what about those girls and their allergies? They are totally faking it!”
“Again, you’re right. But what can I do?” Liz wished she could have called Sofia in to handle all her problems these past twenty-four hours, but more than that, she wished she was strong enough to handle them herself.
“I don’t know, but you have to do something. You can’t just let people take advantage of you, because they’re mean enough to try. Sometimes life can be a battle. And you need to arm yourself for it. You know?”
Who hurt you, Sofia? Liz wanted to ask, but she knew better than to question her boss. Besides, she admired her too much to talk down to her, even if it was out of a desire to help.
Liz shrugged. “Actually, I don’t. I’ve never exactly had these kinds of problems before.”
“Oh, honey, you are a lucky one then.” Another flash of a smile.
What would Sofia do? Liz wondered. When faced with Vanessa, Valeria, Victoria? Dorian? WWSD?
She wished she knew herself well enough to think about what she would do, what she should have done. But sometimes it felt like Liz knew everyone else in the world better than she understood her own heart.
Sofia Stepanov was easy to understand, but what of Liz Benjamin?
Someday soon, she hoped to figure it out.