Worse and Worse…

When JJ got home, I was sitting on the couch in the dark, drinking.

“Trying to develop your night vision?”

He flipped on the overhead and I cringed, blinking. “Off!”

The light went out. I heard his briefcase hit the table next to the door. As he crossed the room to me, he ran into a chair and swore. “Goddamn it, Fen.” 

And then he was sitting next to me and I turned and threw my arms around him. “That job in St Paul? Gone. They decided they couldn’t afford to hire me after all.”

His hand was in my hair, stroking. “Aw, baby…sorry to hear that.”

“I have an apartment, I have a job as property manager to pay for it…but no tangible income.” I shuddered. “I don’t know what to do.”

His fingers kept moving in soothing sweeps. “You’ll find another job. It’s not the end of the world.”

I stuck my nose in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. “It is tonight.” I growled softly. “I hate this economy.”

“I know, baby.” He shifted so I could lay more comfortably against him. “Now what?”

I shook my head. “I can’t think about it right now, okay? Can we just…go to bed and not talk?”

He didn’t bother answering. He just stood, took my hand in his, and led me into the bedroom.



About Fenraven

Fenraven happily lives in south Florida, where it is really hot most of the year. Find him on Twitter, Google +, and Facebook by searching on 'fenraven'.
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