NATALIE

My roommate A.J. trudges to the coffee pot. “You working this early? Not that I’m complaining you already brewed some java because boy do I need it.”

I sip from my own cup and keep reading. “I’m researching.”

“What are you researching?”

“Film producing.”

“Why?”

“Much as I adore you, A.J., I’m busy.”

He goes about his Saturday morning routine of eggs and sausage. The scent fills the air, makes my hungry stomach glance behind me. He’s in sweats and nothing else, shaggy hair mussed up, lean muscles flexing as he flips sausages to their other sides. There are some benefits to rooming with a male stripper. “Don’t worry,” he chuckles, “I’m making you some.”

Many benefits, since this one cooks.

Returning to my computer I smile, “Oh good. Thank you. Didn’t realize I was hungry until now.”

“That’s because you use me for my cooking and my body.”

With my back to him I mutter, “That was one time. And we were drunk.”

“Not wasted enough to black out though. It’ll always stay right here.” I don’t have to turn around to know he’s tapping his head, because he loves to do that. Whenever he claims his idea is best, or he’s defending his opinion, A.J. will be knocking on his noggin with a finger or two.

When I don’t take the bait to converse more, he goes back to work and I’m so engrossed in learning about how expensive union crew contracts are that I don’t notice him again until he sets a steaming plate in front of my slouching torso.

He bends down to read my screen, his familiar scent drifting into my nose. But he’s not Max. That man’s pheromones turned me insatiable in less than fifteen minutes. It took A.J. almost a year to get me to sleep with him. By that time I was sure we’d still be friends after. So far so good.

“Why are you learning about filmmaking contracts?”

“I’m a producer, that’s why.”

Taking a seat he digs into his meal. “Since when?”

“Since three days ago.”

Waving an egg-filled fork he says, “Enlighten me.”

“Not much to tell. I overheard some people leaving an interview when I was in West Midtown. Asked around, invited myself into the room, and talked the director into hiring me. This is good sausage, what is this?”

“Maple syrup marinated.” He takes a sip of coffee. “How’d you talk him into it?”

“Told him about the success of the clubs.”

“You’re pretty enough you could be an actress. He should put you in the film.”

“I have no interest in it, but thanks.” Scooping up eggs I add, “Not all of us want to stand in the lights.”

“I love the lights on me. Dancing up there, the reactions I get. It’s a fucking blast.”

“And you’re very good at what you do.” I go back to reading and we eat in silence for a while. A.J. rises up with his empty plate and brings it to the sink, cleaning and putting everything away. He’s the most conscientious roommate I’ve ever had. It’s made me better at cleaning up, too. When I come home from whatever the world wants to dish out, I’ve got a clean house waiting. Nothing better than that feeling, when I’m tired.

Makes our home a sanctuary.

“Thank you!” I call after him as he heads off for his shower.

“You want to join me?”

I give him a look. “No.”

He laughs and disappears.

An hour later he walks into the kitchen with his backpack slung over workout clothes. “I’m going mountain biking. You still reading about boring ass contracts?”

“I’ve moved on to budgeting software. Did you know they actually have software that just covers the film and television industry?”

“That’s fascinating,” he dryly says on his way out. “Try and see the sun today would ya?”

“You’ll see enough of it for both of us,” I mutter, face buried in the screen.

“You’re wasting your life inside when it’s a sunny day,” and the door clicks shut behind him.

I shake my head, saying aloud though there’s no one but me to hear it, “When you want something badly enough you have to sacrifice to get it.” But after about an hour, Paul calls me. It’s a Saturday which means busy in the dance world.

“Nat, get in here.”

“Now?”

“No, how ‘bout next week sometime whenever you’re free? Yes now!” He hangs up.

Making a face at the phone, I stand up, turn off my computer. “If you didn’t pay me as much as you do, I would so be out of there, Paul.” My shoulders rise with excitement, eyes widening. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think of this. If I help bring his film to profit, I might have a new career!” Dancing to my shower I sing completely off-key a song I’m making up on the spot. “Goodbye Paul. See ya later you stinky person with your bad toupee and bad manners!” Holding my arms up I wiggle stretched fingers for my jazzy finish. “Cha cha cha cha!!”