A Bad Beginning
Karma was a bitch.
Aina was bent over the sink in the handicap stall sponging her at her split lip with the hem of her t-shirt. Honest to God. If one must sock someone, have the decency to hit the cheek, preferably under the eye. It’d bleed like all hell, but at least make-up and strategic bangs could hold a gal over.
The lights above her flickered. Jones would fire her. Makri would win. Samson would laugh. Lail would snicker. And Ginger… Ginger was definitely going to skin her alive.
What was kids these days? All wide-eyed innocence bordering on mental deficiency. All Aina had wanted was a quick morning run to work off the jitters for the sponsorship meeting with Dr. Samson, but no, she’d had to stick her stupid nose in others people's business hadn’t she? Maybe Jones had the right idea. Little devils deserved to get mugged.
Aina tongued at her the cut, wincing all the while. Helen said it didn’t seem to need stitches when Aina had texted her a pic, but said she’d send a runner over with graphs and a-bac to the office.
Aina ran her hands through the water one last time, digging out the last of the blood from the under the nails, and gave herself a once over in the titled glass. Dark overly large eyes swathed in purple shadow, skin faded to yellow from too much time indoors, a heart shaped face, and the threat of impending unibrow. She looked rough. But a benign I’ve binged on ramen, spite and five-hour energy shots type of rough.
Somebody with a toddler banged on the door to her cubicle. She could see pink light up sneakers dancing a jig beside a pair of black polished to perfection fuck-me boots. They could wait. Aina swilled her mouth one last time and, after kicking the toilet flush for theatrical effect, spat crimson fluid into the sink and stepped out.
Fuck-me boots looked about thirty with too much sun, a nose her daddy paid for, and the hooded eyes of a Eurasian mutt. The woman smiled at her with entirely too much teeth, “Done with your whore’s bath?”
Ah, Eurasian bitch then. She flashed a grin back and waited until the woman had whisked her kid into the room before Aina clicked her nails. A sound like someone snapping a carrot in half richoted through the bathroom.
The woman screamed. It was like Jones said if you can’t summon the flames from hell, store bought is fine.
Satisfied, Aina got in line and trained a blank stare at this mornings specials. If she was gonna have to face Ginger’s wrath, she was gonna do it hopped up on a caramel frappuccino with extra drizzle. And two slices of coffee cake to, ahem, emotionally compromise her roommate. Oh and leave a hefty tip for the staff. Obviously, corporate would pay for the broken mirror, but it made Aina feel better. Besides so long as nobody came from the future to stop you from doing something, it wasn’t that bad of a decision.
Probably.