Sherry
As soon as I get to my desk and boot up my computer, I head in to get me some coffee. I shouldn't have agreed to ride in with him, but something about the way he was looking at me–I couldn't say no. Not to mention the fact that I fell asleep on the ride in with a stranger. Yes, he seems like a nice person, but when I doze off, I go out like a light. Pull yourself together, Sherry. Maybe I should've pinched myself the whole way in and admired the way he looked this morning. Oh and don't get me started on the way he smelled. Never has a guy almost caused me to lean over and sniff him. His scent still lingers with me, a mixture of leather, cedar, and maybe a hint of lemon. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I'd like to smell him again. Maybe bottle it up and spread it on my pillow for good luck. Making my way out to my desk, I blow out a breath of frustration. It's crazy how I've ended up here in this office answering phones and making appointments. Not to mention the fact that I'm now studying for my realtor's license. It's not what I dreamed of doing after I graduated high school or college. Nope, I spent four long years getting my registered nurse degree before this. It appears that if you fall asleep three times during your national exam, you're blocked for some time before you can take it over again. It is what it is at this point, and once I get my license to sell houses, it'll keep me busy and awake. See that's the key here, keep me awake, and I can do anything I put my mind to. Of course, I could change this direction of my life and forever be awake, but that’s just not in me. Maybe one day I'll change my mind.
June Dawson strolls through the double glass doors looking like a million bucks. She's a lady of money, envy, class, and someone that I look up to. I didn't grow up with money like Ava; no everything I have I've earned. Thanks to June, I have this job, and she's taken me under her wing, so to speak, on taking it to that next level. Apparently, June says when I'm awake I'm the perfect little ball of fire that this place needs. Yes, she's had to wake me a few times at my desk. Which is why every thirty minutes I have a timer set on my phone to alert me to stand and walk around. When everyone is out of the office selling, I transfer the calls to my phone and have been known to walk around the block a few times. Which is also why I refuse to go to the gym with Ava at night. I get enough from my walk to and from work, to the animal shelter that I volunteer at, and not to mention my walks during work.
"Good morning, Sherry, how's the studying going? You've got what, a week left before exams?"
"It's going, I’m confident that I'll pass, and yes, one week until the big day," I say with excitement running through my voice. Which is all fake… Just like her boobs and lips. But hey, I still respect her. She's one of the top realtor’s in Miami, and that comes with a price. One day I had to listen to her drink her lunch full of Martinis as she explained to me the importance of plastic surgery. "If you're of a mature age in this town, Sherry, you have to look ten years younger—firmer, fuller, and just overall better than the others. Do you think all our clients buy because they love the place? No, it's because I show the houses well. You'll get there soon enough."
After that lunch date, I made rules for selling houses.
Rule number one: Never get plastic surgery to sell a home.
Rule number two: Never show your boobies to sell a house.
Rule number three: Do it the right way and respect yourself when you look back on this.
Rule number four: Repeat all the above each and every day.
So what, I might have a ton of rules for life, but it works… Keeps me grounded, safe, and not heart broken—or out of a job.
"Mrs. Dawson, you need to head out for your first appointment," I say through the intercom to her office.
"Thanks, Sherry. Also, add a lunch into my schedule after this showing, and then I have a few other personal appointments. If you’re slow today, just forward the phone and head on out."
"Okay, thanks," I say as she does this all the time knowing I won't leave until near closing time. She'll end up needing something that I won't be able to access from home, which means I just stay here and work or study.
My phone vibrates next to my keyboard.
Ava: How was your walk? Did you make it safe or do I need to come search for you?
Me: I'm alive and at work. Got a ride in with Greyson, and no, it was a friendly ride.
Ava: Were you on top or him?
Me: Neither, he was behind the wheel, and I was fast asleep on the door.
Ava: Typical Sherry style... Get back to work, and I'll check on you later.
Me: I'm alright, don't forget I'm going to the shelter after work. See you for dinner.
Ava: Please don't bring home another cat! You are officially turning into the cat lady, and that'll end up killing you.
I ignore her last text as she's right. I am turning into the cat lady. Don't you have to have more than two for that? At one point, we had a total of four. I finally broke down and found two good homes. So that doesn't count. I go back to moving June’s schedule around and find things to keep me busy around the office until it's at least time for lunch. Three hours later, I'm ready for a brisk walk before lunch. I set the phones to my cell and head out after locking up. I can't help myself, I head up the block back toward Dr. Davis office, or should I say Greyson's office. How's that work? Do I call him Doctor or Greyson? Confused, I dial up Ava for a quick conversation.
"I see you're still awake," her voice skeptically says as she answers.
"So funny, and you don't have to worry about me. I have a perfect plan, and it works every day. So stop…"
"I just worry you're going to pass out in some strange alley or something."
"Changing the subject. I have a real question or dilemma here."
"What's up, spill it to Momma Ava while I chart."
"Do I call him Doctor or Greyson?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Dr. Davis, the guy from last night. You know, the one who wanted to stare at my tunnel of love and got a good look at the double lattes. What do I call him?"
"Dr. Davis, Greyson, Mr. Hottie give it to me harder, you pick."
"Mr. Hottie won’t be coming from my mouth, and why do I have to call him Dr. Davis? I'm not going back, so I'm going with Greyson."
"Did you find a new doctor?"
"No, but I'm not giving up hope that someone calls me back with an opening."
"Sherry, just make the appointment with him and get it over with. I'm sure he's seen a million vaginas. It's not like yours will be the first one, and if you're not going to sleep with him, then he'll only see it once a year. Get your shit checked and get over it."
"I need to wax first," I say then look around to make sure no one heard me.
"Why, just shave that shit and move along. Wax later. It's no big deal."
"No, you know shaving gives me razor bumps, and then I'll look like I have crabs from having the urge to scratch. Not a good combo."
"You have issues, and I mean major issues, chick. Make the appointment and while you're at it, get me in. I'm due for a snatch of the crotch myself."
"Okay, I'll talk to you later," I say and disconnect the call. I can't help but bellow at Ava's term of endearment for waxing. I'll never forget the first time she dragged me to the salon for this. Ava had to talk me into this for weeks. Like, who wants hot blazing wax going down near their clit? Not this girl, and I almost had a panic attack. It was so bad that I made Ava hold my hand, and when the technician lifted my leg and the first drop of wax hit my flesh, I screamed. Yes, I cried… Fast forward to the ripping… I squeezed Ava's hand so tight I almost broke her thumb. Once that first initial rip came off, I swore like a sailor and was convinced that all my skin, clit, and anything else was gone. Zip… Gone… Missing… Need to send out a search warrant for my body parts because she took it all. Not to mention, I walked bowlegged for a few days. It was so bad June thought I'd been out having some orgy fuck fest over the weekend. I still think to this day she doesn't believe that it was a waxing gone wrong. According to all of our friends and June, I'm the only one who has mastered this leg motion like this. I was to the point that I wanted to send out a newsletter with a survey for all women to take. Decided I couldn't come up with a good tagline title for it and deleted it. Now, it's not so bad. I refuse to go in the ocean for a few days afterward though, totally wasn't the best thing I've ever done. I have sensitive skin, and things will either break me out or cause me to walk funny. I go ahead and call the salon and schedule us both up for a good wax; me being me, I add a little extra to Ava's appointment. She'll thank me for this later… maybe.
I stop by the deli that's across the street and get a turkey roll-up, chips, and drink before heading back over to the office. I ended up walking further than I wanted and needed to get back. Since today is one of my earlier days so I can make it to the shelter in time, I need to make sure I have all of June's crap in order before leaving.
The rest of the day was just how I expected it to go… BORING! I ended up refilling folders and cleaning June's office so that I could stay awake. When I notice the clock has struck four, I'm out of the office like it's on fire. I'm not talking about a trash can fire. I'm talking about a full five-alarm blaze coming in hot. Outside, I let the sun beat down on my face, taking a moment just to relax before I head over to the animal shelter. Back in college, I started volunteering at the Dade Rescue Center for extra credit. You'd think that one would leave now that she's graduated and flunked her state board exam. Oh no, not me… I've been sticking it out like it's a job. I've become close to the staff, and not to mention the animals that come and go from the place. I've also adopted both of my cats from them. It was more of an I have to save your life, you can't die on my watch thing. Each one had made it to the very last day before I agreed to take them home with me. At one point, I'd rescued four. Ava had put her foot down and made me finally break down and find them good homes. I didn't disagree with her point; it was just hard to watch them leave. I'd become attached, and not to mention they’re good companions who don't require a ton of time. Have you ever owned a cat? They’re like the perfect single girl's animal. When you’re sad, they snuggle and purr to comfort you. When you’re busy, and never home, they tend to themselves. When you want to sleep, they sleep. But that's only because they sleep for twenty-three hours a day. I read that once in a magazine left at the shelter. I was surprised by this and wondered to myself if I could sleep for that many hours. I mentioned this fun animal fact to Ava that night. Her response was, "Don't you already do that now?" I shrugged it off. I don't sleep in a cat bed or my bed for that long, just in random places. Once, I fell asleep on the bus and ended up being three hours late for work. The driver finally grew concerned when I didn't move, and his shift was over. Talk about being startled, that was an understatement. This is why I pretty much walk nowadays.
Pulling the heavy metal door to the rescue center open, I'm hit with the smell of litter, urine, and just animal funk. Immediately I start sneezing and know that I can't take my allergy pills until later. That's a sure-fire way to make certain that I don't make it home. I'll end up curled up in the alley around the corner where a homeless group lives.
"Afternoon, Sherry," Lucy says from behind her computer. Lucy's been here for more years than we are allowed to say. She's like all of ours mother, grandmother, friend—you name it. Lucy runs the front office and keeps us all on schedule.
"Hi, Lucy. What's on my agenda today?"
"You've got B block evening feeding and clean up," she says while pushing up her reading glasses to read the paper in front of her.
"Sounds great, I'll get started, so we don't have to stay late." My voice is already turning to a different level of raspy, and I clear it before I step into the storage room. I let out a deep breath before loading the cart up with food, water, fresh litter, and trash bags. I hate when I'm on this rotation. When I leave here in a few hours, I'll be swollen, puffy eyed, sneezy—you name it that will be me. One evening walking home I was mistaken for a real-life zombie, and it wasn't even Halloween. Hence the reason I also might never have a date. I either resemble a dead person, I can't stay awake long enough to hold a conversation, or I'm covered in cat smell. Great combo if you ask me for finding a male mate.
Right as I enter the secure room, I notice we have a few new kittens this week, and of course, that also means that we lost a few over the last few days. If I ever win the lottery, I'm building a massive house for just rescue kitties. Maybe a dog compound too; I don't know, they have to be walked and require a lot more attention than these fur babies. I check the time and realize that I've stalled enough and need to finish up. On my short days here, they go by in a blur. It always seems that I just arrived when it's time to close up shop and head home.
"Hello, sweet kitty… Aren't you a beautiful girl," I say in a low tone to not startle her as I drop the dry food into her bowl. I watch as she backs herself into the corner, looking at every move I make within her cage. After locking it back up, I notice she was just brought in this morning. It'll take her a few days, but she'll come around. Happy that everyone is fed, watered, and have clean litter trays, I head back to the storage room to drop off my cart and supplies. Making my way back up to Lucy, I check the schedule for the rest of the week. With a quick flip, I take in the next set that will be euthanized this week. My eyes land on Mr. Socks and immediately I know I need to talk to Ava tonight. Mr. Socks is a giant black and white cat that weighs in around ten pounds. He's gentle and needs a good home. I refuse to let him get put down.
"Lucy, make sure you stop them from putting Mr. Socks down, I'll get him a home before then."
"Sure thing, dear, just call me and if I have to, I'll bust him out beforehand."
I cackle at her statement because I can actually envision her doing this. Lucy will stuff him into her huge bag that she carries her cross-stitch stuff in. He's so big that either his head or butt will be sticking out for the world to see. "Thanks, Lucy. I'm going to go ahead and head out early; allergies aren't liking me too much today."
"Don't take this wrong: I love you coming here, but it's killing you."
"I'm alright, I'll pop a few pills and sleep it off," I say with a smile but know that's a lie.
"Be safe, and keep me posted for Mr. Socks," Lucy says as I'm walking out.
I need to catch Ava as soon as I get home. I know I promised that I wouldn't bring another one home. But I can't stand the idea of him getting put down. Mission Socks Attack is in motion…