Free Violet Eyes by John Everson

help her; she had to think he was interested in her beyond just “doing his duty” to help someone who’d fallen in the parkland he managed. And she definitely wanted to see him again…preferably when she could walk on her own two feet. She found that she was acutely aware that she was standing in her bathroom in her bra while Terry was just a few yards away, probably in her kitchen.
    The thought made her feel warm.
    “All right, you horny hussy,” she whispered to her reflection. “Just get your shit together, and worry about shacking up later.”
    Rachel carefully moved about the bathroom and bedroom, leaning on the walls, but slowly getting cleaned up and dressed. She didn’t worry as much about her hair as she normally would; she figured the big bandage on her ankle was a free pass to be half-assed today.
    When she navigated back down the hall, she could smell the fresh coffee coloring the air; Terry was sitting on the couch with a cup in hand, and Eric was scooping up spoonfuls of cereal, leaning over the coffee table.
    “You set?” she asked him. “Homework packed? Lunch?”
    “I’m ready, Mom,” Eric said. “And I fed Feral. We’re all good.” He pointed towards the door. “Go to work, I’ll be fine. I’ll head to the bus in a couple minutes.”
    “Are you sure?” she asked, and her son laughed.
    “I don’t think it matters,” he said. “You’re not going to be doing much either way. Go!”
    Terry downed the last of his mug and took it back to the kitchen, rinsing it out in the sink. Then after she kissed Eric goodbye, he helped her back to his truck.
    “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” she told him, when he slid into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. It sounded strong and tuned…just like its driver. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she instantly wanted to slap herself. What kind of sappy crap is that?
    “Just do me one favor,” he said.
    “Name it.”
    “Have dinner with me tonight?”

Chapter Eleven
    Friday, May 10. 5:14 p.m.
    Rachel got a ride home from Susan Jefferson, the amazingly tan girl who held down the customer service cube next to hers, at the end of the afternoon. Listening to the lilt in Susan’s voice all day kind of drove her a little nuts—the girl had that same perky airhead sound to her conversations that had annoyed her about the girls in the Thai place the other day. But Rachel had to admit, Susan’s ditzy way seemed to get results. The woman never raised her voice or sounded tense (if anything, it sounded like she was trying to score dates with some of the angry customer service callers) and by the time the phone clicked back on the receiver in the cube next to her, from what Rachel could tell, the customers seemed to always be mollified.
    Rachel, on the other hand, struggled to keep her temper in check on almost every call. Susan was cute, irritatingly chipper and good . Which only made it harder for her to ask the girl for help, but…she didn’t have a lot of options. Just like she was to all of the customers, so far, Susan had been really nice to her.
    So at the end of the day, she found herself limping along, following Susan’s neatly sashaying behind to her neat little blue Mazda. Even the girl’s ass was perky, Rachel thought to herself. Watching Susan’s effortless strut made Rachel want to swing her own hips in jealous competition (older gals can still wiggle, she thought) but she could just barely keep herself upright given the ankle. It was feeling a little better, and with the solid pressure of the bandage on it all day, she found she could put a little pressure on it.
    She tried to just be thankful for Susan’s kindness, instead of being jealous of the girl’s easy allure.
     
     
    “My mom always said to soak a sprain in Epson Salts,” Susan offered, as Rachel moaned and levered her way into the low passenger’s seat.”
    Rachel nodded her thanks.
    “Maybe after my date,” she said.
    “Is he cute?”