Free The Recipient by Dean Mayes

thinking.
    Casey met his eyes. His perception was impeccable. “Am I that transparent?”
    â€œWell, I knew it from the minute the boys downstairs gave me the heads-up that you were here. But there’s no harm in listening to a friend’s problems before making a guess.”
    Laughing softly and bitterly, Casey took a swig from her bottle.
    â€œScott, it’s driving me fucking crazy,” she blurted. “It’s only been a week and already I’m going looney-tunes. This whole taking a holiday thing is…it’s…I can’t rest! I’m no good at this. I need to work!”
    Her reaction caught Scott off guard, more so for the fact that she had referred to him by his first name than the revelation of her state of mind.
    â€œI thought you were gonna tick off up the coast for a while,” he said. “Get yourself out of the city and breathe for a bit. Lord knows you need it.”
    Casey tried to loosen the tension gathered between her temples.
    â€œYou sound like my father,” she observed dejectedly.
    Scott chuckled and drew his finger through his goatee. “How is Peter?”
    Casey shrugged. “He’s good. Fatherly as per usual. Not that I need any more of that.”
    Scott pursed his lips and whistled through them with an exaggerated expression of mock hurt, to which Casey could only laugh at. He considered her dilemma for a long moment.
    â€œLook…what sort of work are you after?” he asked. “Are we talking above board or, perhaps, something a little more spicy? Bearing in mind that I thought you were playing the straight arrow these days.”
    â€œI have no idea,” Casey ventured, shrugging her shoulders. “ Anything that will keep me from going nuts. Who’s active right now?”
    â€œI’m not gonna lie, a lot of it is strictly black hat work,” Scott admitted. “Not the sort of work I would’ve thought you’d be comfortable with. Most of your tier are pretty well set.”
    The thought of venturing into illegal territory to secure work right now did not appeal to her. Especially given the question marks that were increasingly being attached to her. Though she could probably handle herself, the assurances she had given to her father niggled at her conscience.
    â€œYou’re sure there’s no one who could use a hand? The Coops? Maynard? Steev? What about Pink? He’s always in the shit with his programming and coding.”
    Scott chuckled and tilted his head, considering his thoughts. “Look, there maybe one or two possibles that could subcontract. Leave it with me. I’ll check in with the Bastardos and see if there’s something we can get you.”
    A brief quiet settled over them and Casey noticed that Scott was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
    Scott scratched his cheek, then gestured hesitantly at her chest. “How’s—ahh—things there?”
    Casey looked down and tousled the fabric of her shirt. When she looked back up at him, she wore a sarcastic expression.
    â€œAre you still trying to cop a look at my tits?” she challenged before laughing at him.
    Scott flushed pink and cowered behind his beer bottle. “I’ll take that as an ‘everything is okay’ kinda explanation,” he commented.
    Casey reached across the table and squeezed his big, meaty hand. “Just get me some work, Sasquatch,” she pleaded gently. “I know you’ve had my back since uni. You’re one of a very small group of people that I can count on and I know I come to you a lot but I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
    ___
    A loud rapping on the warehouse door woke Casey from her sleep. She flinched where she lay and screwed her face up at the sound before opening one eye and checking the clock on her bedside. It was the following day. And it was nearly 1PM.
    Groaning, she shut her eyes against the bright glare of the sunshine streaming