Read Midnight Solitaire for Free Online

working the night desk at this dump sucks, it’s not as bad as waiting tables or struggling through some office gig. At least here she’s primarily by herself and has time to write. The money’s horrible, just a touch over minimum wage, but her expenses aren’t too bad now that she’s living at home again. After a stint in New York City, she realized being on her own wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d imagined, and after running into trouble, she moved back home with her mother. There is a great deal of love between them, but theirs has always been a somewhat contentious relationship. She hopes it’s only temporary, and that soon she’ll have enough money saved and get enough writing done so she can pack up and give the Big Apple another try.
    Writing is such a long-shot, her mother constantly warns. You’ve always been a daydreamer, but why not pursue something more solid and less creative?
    A few more months, she thinks, replacing her eyeglasses, and none of this will matter. One way or another, I’ll be free.
    With a sigh, Kit looks out the window at the rain pounding the highway and turning the dirt lot to a muddy mess. But for her Honda, Carlin’s Chevy van and two cars parked in front of the units, both lots are empty. The large glass panels along the front of the office are blurred by the storm, but the light within reveals Carlin’s distorted figure sitting behind the front desk, fiddling with his laptop.
    According to Kit’s watch, the start of her shift is still ten minutes away, but Carlin probably wants to get home before the snow starts and things get really bad. While he doesn’t deserve her generosity, she decides to offer it anyway. She figures she owes him since he has no idea she’ll be using him in her novel at some point. Can’t pass up a character that good. Kit pops a mint, grabs her knapsack, pulls her ratty old Army jacket in tight around her and makes a mad dash for the office. The rain batters her, cold and relentless, her Doc Martens boots splashing puddles as she goes.
    A moment later she stumbles through the front door, closes it behind her then leans back against it. Dripping and out of breath, Kit pulls her hat off, tucks it in the knapsack and waits for Carlin to acknowledge her with his usual, wildly inappropriate banter.
    He glances up over the top of his laptop. “Breathing heavy and soaking wet, just the way I like you. What’s up Nipples?”
    “Really? You’re just going to keep right on calling me that, huh?”
    “You love it.”
    “No, actually, I don’t.”
    “Hey, you come waltzing in here the other night blasting those things through your shirt, what do you expect?”
    “It was cold, I—OK, you know what, I am not having this conversation with you again.”
    “Hey, you call me Asshole.”
    “But you are an asshole, Carlin.”
    “And you got great nipples, everybody wins.” He points a stubby finger at her. “I’m telling you, girl, we should party naked. I’ll rock your world.”
    “Awesome, I totally just threw up in my mouth.” Kit pushes away from the door and looks back out at the night. “Unbelievable out there.”
    “Only gonna get worse,” Carlin says, returning his attention to the laptop. “Got a bad snowstorm coming. That’s what the honey on channel four said anyway. You might get a straggler or two tonight but I doubt it. It’s been dead.”
    She motions to the units with her chin. “Couple sleepers?”
    “A single in fourteen, businessman-type, and a double in ten, a couple a few years younger than you. Total fuck bunnies.”
    Doing her best to ignore the porn DVD playing on Carlin’s laptop, Kit slips into the office behind the counter. A cramped and mussed area, it smells like perspiration and old milk. On the desk, amidst stacks of paperwork, is a partially eaten carton of Chinese food and the annihilated remains of a box of Twinkies.
    Kit throws her coat over the back of the desk chair, sets her knapsack down then rejoins