Low Tide

"I'm leaving for my lunch break now, Ian," Mallory said after wiping a streak of dust from the bottom shelf and tucking the cleaning rag back behind the counter. "I should be back in about forty-five minutes. If Chad decides to grace us with his presence today, tell him he can break down the boxes in the back because I'm not doing it this time." Chad was the new hire, but the redhead doubted he'd last long since he seemed to have the work ethic of a sausage. Never mind. More hours on the paycheck meant more money at the end of the week.

The roommate search was not going well. She'd interviewed four candidates thus far, and the only girl who'd proven acceptable as far as being employed and semi-responsible turned out to be allergic to dogs. The next step was to put up a notice on Craigslist and see what happened there. Other than that, life seemed to have smoothed out at the edges a little. She was glad she'd decided to have lunch with Izzy this afternoon, if only for something to take her mind off of things.

At least the morning sickness had subsided. She hadn't barfed today. Thank God for small favors.

Izzy checked her watch as she walked as quick as she could in a business skirt and heels without actually running, since she'd been delayed by a last minute phone call from a customer wanting to book a restaurant reservation for when he and his family were in town next weekend. Spring Break was starting up soon, and the relative quiet at the hotel would be a pleasant memory for the next several months.
( chit chat and surprise offers )

The park was rapidly becoming Mallory's favorite place to spend an afternoon, especially as Christmas loomed closer. It was both time spent outdoors and time spent pondering matters great and small, namely things that didn't revolve around her current situation. Not that that list was miles long right now, but still. She'd take what she could get.

The redhead was seated at one of the picnic tables, looking at the light traffic beyond the park's edge. Key West wasn't exactly a buzzing metropolis, but she liked the quiet of it. It sure beat someplace like Leavenworth, hands down. A scooter's horn beeped, and she lifted a hand at the driver, one of the book store's regular customers. felt more or less settled, at least for the moment. Life was kind of nice right now.

Afternoon was more like evening by the time Boden strayed within the limits of the park, having not been home since the altercation with something nasty in the alley near the place where this other him lived, its teeth had been far bigger than the size of its jaw would have had him believe. Thankfully as out of shape this body was for hunting its current owner knew exactly where to hit and did so with such precision that it had brought the monster to its knees before finally ending its life.

Not without a few souvenirs in the form of cuts and bruises, all of which would heal, soon enough. Boden just needed the time to rest and he didn’t feel as if he could get that at home – with that woman who was apparently quite attached to him – there’d be too many questions and he wasn’t quite ready for that.

( Not So Familiar )

The front yard was almost grassless, and Mallory reminded herself that Hayden lived in the bottom half of the house and not the top. She'd been by Abandon Ship! earlier only to find him not there, but the day bartender had been nice enough to direct her. She walked up the concrete path to the porch, rapped lightly on the door. Hopefully he wouldn't be too pissed about her interrupting his day off.

"At least it's for a good cause," the redhead muttered. "To me it's a good cause anyway."

Hayden sprawled on his couch under the lazy circulation of his ceiling fan. A Magnum, P.I. marathon played on the television. He got sucked in around lunchtime and two hours later he was still watching. Halfway into the first episode, he had drawn an uncomfortable parallel between Tom Selleck's shorts and his own and gotten up to change his pants, just in case they looked anywhere near that tight. Or short. Otherwise, his brain stayed on autopilot. A bag of ruffled potato chips rested on his stomach, a glass of Coke on the table behind his head. Periodically, he reached backwards and awkwardly maneuvered it to his mouth while trying not to spill.

( Taking a Walk )

( Uncomfortable Story Time )

The apartment was clean, dinner was cooked and eaten, and the dishes had been washed and put in the drying rack. The sun had been down for a couple of hours by now, and a floorlamp illuminated a spot around the slightly worn armchair near the center of the room. The last cup of coffee from the pot cooled on the table next to the chair. A strangely domestic scene, all things considered.

Mallory lived by herself in the apartment on Greene Street, and the landlord told her that she was one of her best tenants. She kept the place clean, she paid the rent on time, and she even recycled, dropping her plastic bottles and cans into the collection kiosk in the parking lot. With the exception of the clothes-chucking incident, there had been no problems.

The redhead had relented and gathered up Dominic's stuff, then bagged it in one big garbage bag for if he showed up to get his things. Without washing them. Let him deal with the sand in his jeans. She was not his maid or his mother. In his sleep, Tuffy the bulldog chuffed, his short back legs kicking as if he chased rabbits in his dreams. Mallory flipped the page of the newspaper she was reading, moved on to the classifieds. Sometimes, she really relished a quiet evening at home.

( Man-Child )

NPC Dominic was written by Jessica

Izzy wondered if everyone in Key West had decided to go grocery shopping at the same time. The local Winn-Dixie was packed with locals stocking up for Thanksgiving, and most of them seemed to have arrived before the witch. Queues of shoppers and their overflowing carts stretched out from every checkout lane and the blonde resigned herself to a long wait, not willing to give up and have to come again later and start over.

She'd taken one look at the contents of the refrigerator, mostly just restaurant leftovers and a few staples, and declared she was going to the store. The one housemate who was there had just rolled her eyes and declined to come along, and Izzy wasn't sure what to make of the response. The tech-witch knew from both the diary and what memories had survived from 'Isabelle' that she'd frequently dined out at the many restaurants in Key West rather than try and cook herself, having few cooking skills. That was another of the many things Izzy didn't have in common with 'Isabelle': she'd had to learn to cook in self-defense, otherwise she'd have starved as her mother had worked so much Izzy had to fend for herself a lot of the time.

( Not an Airhead )

Avery liked book stores. He always liked them better than libraries. No one glared at you when you spoke, and you didn't have to worry about forgetting to return the books, or messing them up. When the vampire had eaten regular food, he had liked to read at the same time. Nowadays, that wasn't really a possibility. He tried to picture himself reading a paperback while biting someone and drinking their blood. No, that didn't seem feasible.

It was about forty-five minutes before the small store closed. He browsed the stacks, but also kept an eye on the lone employee who stood behind a crowded-looking counter. She was ringing someone up. Avery turned his attention back to the top shelf. Up there were books recommended by staff, complete with little index cards explaining why he should read them. He pulled down a graphic novel that caught his attention, and examined the card. It was recommended by someone named Mallory.

After the last customer had left, Avery approached the counter. Holding up the book and the card, he asked, "Did you write this? The recommendation, I mean, not the book."

"Yeah, why?"

( A Short Walk )

Key West boasted a few public beaches, but only one catered to dogs, the aptly named Dog Beach. It sat near the corner of Waddell and Vernon. There was an open area of sand that led to the water's edge, which was calm and turquoise. On the left side, piles of slippery rocks were less easy to navigate. Hannah kept her dachshund away from those, paranoid the little hot dog would wiggle into a crevice and never make it out. She pedaled up on her beach cruiser with the dog in a heavyweight basket. It danced around her legs while she locked up the bike.

"Hang on a second!" Hannah hopped around to keep her ankles free. The U-shaped bolt resisted. "You're going to chop off my feet. I dunno who you think's gonna pedal us home." Finally managing to snap the pieces together, she straightened. "Unless stranding us is your master plan." The little dog wiggled in place, not the picture of innocence. Hannah scowled. "Thought so. C'mon." Out on the sand, she unhooked the leash and let him run around.

Mallory usually made time after work for her dog, since Tuffy liked to play in the small waves and dig in the sand. It always meant a bath when they got home, since the salt and sand made the bulldog's thick fur stiff, but it wasn't much of a hardship. The redhead had made sure to bring along the pooper scooper and a couple of paper bags in case the mutt made a mess. Even without a law in place, she wasn't leaving anything behind for anyone to step in.

( Shooting the Breeze...Then a Bombshell )

The afternoon sky was blue and virtually cloudless, the wind strong enough to steer everything but a few cirrus clouds away from the island. Hayden started out the Saturday in his driveway, washing sea salt and dust off his Jeep. Since it was mid-November, he wore jeans and a short-sleeved, plaid shirt over his tee. At least the sun didn't bake the suds on the paint before he could grab the hose. Afterwards, the legs of his pants were wet but clean, as opposed to the laundry towering in a corner of his bedroom. Yeah, he'd get on that... As soon as he was done with every other chore he could dream up. He grabbed an armload of books, his keys, and his wallet, then he headed out.

Hayden was an outdoorsy guy; Exercising and working with his hands kept him in a good mood. He also liked to read on his back porch, a dilapidated square only wide enough to cram a rusty chair on, if he propped his feet on the rail. Out there, he spent the early afternoons devouring books before his shifts at the bar. He read historical perspectives and biographies, finding most fiction too fluffy to keep his attention. He liked stories he could sink his teeth into, stories that helped him wrap his brain around the world.

At the used shop, he held open the door for a customer and ducked inside. The odor of old paper hung thick and dust motes floated by the window. He unloaded his trade-ins on the counter.

( Just a Sec! )

She should have known better than to trust a guy who was that pretty.

Mallory looked at the picture of herself and Dominic as she threw the last of his clothes out the window and into the yard. Let him pick them up, the jerk. She should never have let him leave any of his stuff here. She should never have done a lot of things.

( Bad Judgment )