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the apartment in stiff, angry movements and Robin stepped inside uncertainly. “I’m not...not sure if I understand you. I just got called on this job last night-”
     
     
    “Well Pinnacle is so fucked up!” He wheeled around, coming toward her. She almost took a step back. His pale skin was mottled red from anger and was covered in millions of freckles. Although he obviously had some muscle control issues, he had no problem pointing his finger at her accusingly. “They got paid a week ago, promising that it would be no problem getting me an aide. Then you cancel at the last minute leaving me in a lurch!” The last slurred words were shouted in a spray of spit.
     
     
    Robin was not one to easily anger, but his rudeness pushed her into that direction. How dare this asshole shout and spit all over her! Angrily, she wiped his spit spray from the back of her hand.
     
     
    “Well first of all, I had nothing to do with the deal you had with Pinnacle. Like I told you, I accepted a job just last night!” She began to shake with anger, but her voice stayed steady. “It couldn’t have been me to cancel out because before that I was watching a little old lady that just went into the hospital with pneumonia. So--don’t you yell at me!” She put her fists on her hips as the man in the wheelchair quieted.
     
     
    He watched her silently. “I’m sorry, then. I thought it was you.” Now that his anger was no longer directed at her, his head didn’t flop and lurch around as much, and his voice became clear and quite easy to understand. His breathing slowed as he continued watching her. “What’s your name?
     
     
    He’d switched gears so fast that she didn’t know how to respond. She was still ready to chew his ass, and now he was speaking calmly. “I’m Robin. Robin Mathena.”
     
     
    “I’m Jason, but I guess you know that.” Actually she hadn’t. All she had was his sex and address. She didn’t admit that, though. He was her age, so if he was going to school then it meant college. Shit.
     
     
    “What can I do to help you, Jason?”
     
     
    “I can use help getting breakfast. Follow me into the kitchen.” He demanded. He didn’t seem mad at her any longer, but that didn’t mean that he was being nice. She followed him from a large living room that contained one couch an armchair next to a side table and lamp and all kinds of electronic equipment. She could tell that it was a nice apartment containing expensive things, but it wasn’t set up like a person’s home. It seemed more like a studio.
     
     
    The kitchen had a big butcher’s block table; very nice. But it too wasn’t what one would consider homey. There was a commercial feel to it, as if this room should be in an exclusive restaurant. He opened a lower cabinet and retrieved a bowl and spoon.
     
     
    “I need you to make coffee, please.” He moved to the fridge next and retrieved milk which he placed in his lap. He had the type of wheelchair that required him to actually wheel himself. He then went to a pantry where he retrieved a box of Cheerios.
     
     
    Instead of a coffee pot he had a coffee press. She studied it while chewing her lip. She had no idea how to use it!
     
     
    “Forget about the coffee,” he said noticing her confusion. “We don’t have time to fool with it, anyways.” She put the contraption down and moved to the table, reaching for the cereal. He snatched it and glared at her. “I can do it.”
     
     
    Okay. What was he; four? She stood back and waited for him to tell her what he needed. He spilled cheerios on the table as he poured them into the bowl, but she was not going to offer to clean it up and risk getting yelled at again. He carefully poured the milk, not spilling any. It obviously took a lot of work because his tongue peeked through as he concentrated on his task. She smiled. He looked like a kid that was working out a puzzle; a cute little ginger kid with wild crazy red hair. He glanced up at her