Smitten Kitten

chapter one

     THE FIRST THOUGHT that crosses my mind when I see my mattress propped up against my front door is that I need to do laundry because wearing lacy underwear that rides up my ass is so unnecessary for a Monday night alone.

     When I nudge the mattress over to uncover the doorknob to my apartment, my next thought is that I forgot to buy spinach for the salad I was planning to make.

    I sigh, shrugging. Oh well. Chinese food it is. At least the black pepper beef comes with broccoli. It's green. That counts.

     Creaking the door open, I'm immediately greeted by the musical styling of Rage Against the Machine, in all fuck-the-system type glory that is a telltale style Nikki is not in a good mood. I card through everything I could have done to cause it- left a mountain of unwashed dishes in the sink, borrowed her cute black dress without asking, or maybe she'd found out that I'd accidentally let her beta fish die when she was on vacation, and this one's just an imposter.

     Either way, I probably deserve it.

     Sucking my teeth, I step inside to the chaos, nose crinkling at the constant stream of clothes being hurled from my room into the kitchen. My clothes, particularly. With no proper care for their welfare, it seems, by the haphazard way they're being flung in the air.

     Most of it's dirty, but I have a feeling that Nikki isn't helping me with laundry day.

     I drop my oversized black purse at the kitchen counter, poking my head into my room where I can see a small Chinese girl fucking shit up in all definitions. Clothes are strewn everywhere, along with blankets, makeup, and basically everything that makes up my entire life.

     "Now don't be alarmed, but I think we've been robbed, Nikki, and their signature is leaving mattresses outside in the hallway."

     At the sound of my voice, Nikki freezes, head snapping at break-neck speeds to pin me down with a lethal glare and a homicidal sneer. She points an accusing finger at me. "You!"

     I pause, pointing to myself. "Little ol' me?"

     "You got fired!"

     I blink, weighing my options carefully as I drink in the seething girl, her shoulders heaving, seemingly trying to murder me in my spot with sheer brain power alone. It's not a look I'm unfamiliar with, but it's still undeniably chilling.

      I tilt my head and press a finger against my chin.

     "Define what you mean by fired."

     "Fired! As in, you no longer have a job. As in, you are unemployed. As in, you have no fucking means to pay me for three- yes, three months rent!" Nikki barrels past me, shoving me unceremoniously out of the way as she makes a quick getaway towards the living room. I escape her hell path and avoid getting mowed down, not that my safety is of any real consequence.

     After I'd accidentally shattered her favourite mug and she'd thrown not one, but both her slippers major league baseball-style directly at my face, I'd learned not to get in the way.

     "So is that a yes or a no for Chinese food?" I ask, stepping around the landmine of clothes and following her. Mostly because I don't trust her Hulk hands around expensive electronics, and it's Monday.

     The television must remain in workable condition. Monday is Bachelor day.

     With a frown punctuated on her face, she pauses next to the end-table, pressing a button into the machine found on top. A click sounds, and then I grimace as an irritatingly cheery voice breaks the rigid air.