Madison Blake's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Madison stayed at the vanity past sunrise. The three dark sockets stared back at her from the mirror. Scarlett would arrive by ten. Sixty-two dollars sat in the business account, and no vendor would cut an invoice in time for the bank to release even that. She heard the front door bang open downstairs and boots hit the floor with the weight of somebody who owned the sound. Derek climbed the stairs two at a time. He was the contractor who had built the room around her, the one who had held a level to the wall last week and looked at her longer than the level required. He filled the doorway in his orange vest, tool belt loose on his hips, a small cardboard box under one arm. His beard needed a trim. His grin did not. "Heard through a friend of a friend you were short on bulbs," he said. He set the box on the vanity beside the glove. Inside sat a cluster of daylight bulbs, clean glass, silver bases, more than she needed. "Grabbed a pack at cost from my supplier. Figured your headliner wasn't the type to squint." Madison stood up too fast. "Derek. I can't pay you for these. Not today. The account's locked until I get an invoice through, and I don't have one." "Didn't ask for an invoice." "I'm not taking free bulbs." He pulled a screwdriver from his belt and spun it once. "Then don't. I'll install them too, ladder and all, before your girl gets here." He looked at the empty sockets, then at her. "Price is a kiss. One. You decide where." She laughed once, sharp, because it was easier than the other thing rising in her chest. She looked at the note taped under the mirror. She looked at the clock. She looked at him. "One kiss," she said. "And you take an invoice next week when the account opens up. I pay you back in full." "Deal on the invoice. Kiss stands on its own." She crossed the room, put her hand flat on his chest above the vest zipper, and kissed him once on the mouth. Short. Firm. Enough. He blinked when she stepped back, then went for the ladder in the hall like a man given a job. He unscrewed the three empty sockets and screwed in the new bulbs while she peeled the false note off the mirror and folded it into her pocket. He flicked the switch. All six sockets came on white and even. Scarlett's chair sat in a clean ring of daylight. Madison heard a car door shut in the lot below. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, straightened the glove on the vanity, and went down the stairs to meet the headliner at the door.