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Renee Young was not having a good day. Scratch that, she was not having a good week. The Daily Herald (or as she like to put it, the employer from Hell) opens its doors at exactly 8 A.M., Monday through Friday so naturally she had been in her cubicle since 7:00, writing a quick filler piece on an apparent arson in Hunts Point. Being the good columnist she was, her Saturday off had been spent interviewing a fire chief clearly out of his element instead of trying to relax on a secondhand couch with a glass of cheap merlot and a Jane Austen paperback until Natalya inevitably returned home in the early hours of the morning. Then, depending on Nattie’s condition, Renee would either slip into bed, attempting to get as much sleep as possible before sunlight bled into their apartment, or bandage up any still-bleeding scrapes and bruises from Nattie’s nighttime… activities.
“Motherfucking son of a glue-sniffing whore!” Growled a voice directly behind her. Renee rolled her eyes and turned her swivel-chair so she could see the Human Pit of Despair and Misery’s ™ a.k.a. Corey Graves’s half of their shared office. He was desperately trying to mop up his spilled Starbuck’s coffee before it spread onto his desktop keyboard. Trying and failing. Looking up, he spotted her watching the debacle, sipping her own Starbuck’s chai tea latte amusedly.
“Either find me some more paper towels or stop gawking.” Corey scowled.
Grabbing the wad of napkins an overworked barista had thrust at her with her drink that morning, Renee lobbed them in an impressive arc directly into Corey’s lap. Luckily there seemed to be enough that he could create a makeshift barrier from between the coffee and more-expensive items on his desk.
Clearly exasperated, Corey fell back into his chair. “Thank you.” he muttered.
“We’ve all been there.” After an awkward moment of silence, she continued. “I’ve been wondering... why order a plain black coffee every morning? You could easily make it yourself.”
Corey had resumed typing, failing to look up. “Why do you assume I have a coffee maker?”
“Do you have a coffee maker?”
“Of course I do, everybody does. They just make it the way I like it.”
“... it’s plain coffee poured into a cup, Corey.”
“That’s the way I like it, Young.”
The door slammed open, and a beaming blonde laden with several shopping bags strode into the already cramped office. Renee pulled her into hug. “Thank God you’re here, Nat. You couldn’t have dropped by at a better time.”
Nattie perched on the corner of Renee’s desk, shoving piles of loose papers out of the way. “Corey giving you trouble again?”
“From 8 to 3, five days a week.” laughed Renee.
“It’s not your fault, hun. Who could've known when corporate offered you a new office they were failing to mention you wouldn’t be the only one moving in. And with such a sourpuss at that.”
Corey smirked from his keyboard. “I’m always glad when you stop by Ms. Neidhart. The quality of conversation improves drastically in your presence”
Nat seemed content with merely sticking out her tongue before reaching into one of the many bags.
“Put your hands out and close your eyes.” she told Renee eagerly. “Okay, open them.”
In Renee’s palms was a thick leather-bound copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. The title was written in gold cursive and the spine made a satisfying crack when Renee leafed through the pages. Another Lewis for the shelf.
Natalya shifted on the desk. “It’s you know… for what you did for me last week. I never said thanks.”
Renee sighed. Last week referred to Natalya bursting in their apartment at four in the morning nursing a just-this-side-of-probably-won’t-kill-you stab wound and perhaps even worse, a bruised ego. When Renee finally got her to fall onto their poor couch (with the promise of vodka), she was given an earful about how quickly rescuing an innocent bystander from gang violence could escalate very quickly into an attempt to dismantle that gang permanently (which admittedly, was a very Nattie thing to do). In fact, she was rather fortunate to emerge with only the stab wound and not a bullet to the head.
A roll of gauze, several curses, and half a bottle of vodka later, Nattie’s thigh was wrapped up pretty well for a junior columnist with only a certificate in basic first aid.
However, moments like this honestly scared the shit out of Renee. Her life had been completely normal, boring even, before she had began the search for a roommate to split the rent on a midscale apartment with. The replies to her listing had trickled in, they were all dismissed in turn for varying reasons, but then she had received a promising message that didn’t seem like it was written by a fratboy from one Natalya Neidhart. The two had met for coffee, and Renee, immediately taken by the amiable, devil-may-care blonde, invited her to move in that weekend. Shortly after, Renee discovered Nattie’s secret, though it was hardly difficult to notice her sneaking out at night. Renee had been hurt, felt slightly betrayed, but she wasn’t mad long. She could hardly have expected Natalya to have included the hardly insignificant bombshell that she donned pink-and-black spandex after sundown to become the crime-fighting “Heartbreaker” in a Craigslist response. And superheroes have to live somewhere too.
“Thank you, Nattie.” Renee stood up and pulled her best friend in for a hug. “I love it.”
Natalya beamed. “I knew you would. And hey, we should go to that bar, Mick’s, tonight. Drinks are on me; we’ll have a girls night out.”
Nodding, Renee ran a hand through her hair. “If I ever get this article finished, I’m game.” They hadn’t actually hung out in a few weeks. Plus it would be a good opportunity for one of them to pick up a date. Nattie had had her eye on one of the bartenders, a knockout blonde who blushed whenever she was caught looking.“Eight sound good?” Renee asked.
“Yea. Meet ya there girlfriend.” Hopping off the desk, Nattie picked up her bags, gave Corey a saucy wink, and paraded out of their office.
Corey leaned back in his chair, cracked his knuckles and glared at Renee. “As much as I enjoy Ms. Neidhart’s company, she should really stay out of here during office hours. Official policy and all that.”
“You try telling her that
“No thanks. I deal with enough crazy outside work.”
After meeting Nattie, Renee had become less sure of a lot of things, but she also felt she had become more aware of exactly who was keeping the streets walkable as well. And if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that if Natalya Neidhart was crazy, than Renee wanted to be crazy right along with her.