Rachel Graham s Precious Little Life Prologue
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Rachel Graham's Precious Little Life - Chapter 1 free porn video
Rachel Graham's Precious Little Life - Chapter 1
Work. They say your work should be something you love, and I have to
agree with "they". What they fail to mention is that you had better love
doing something that pays the bills, or you're gonna be in for a world of
hurt.
That world of hurt is where I find myself most mornings. Forget about
Julie Wells, she's a nobody. She's a bitch, but she's a friend. But the
place where I work is no friend to me. Projekt Katgut...an "inspired"
name for this shop. Let me tell you about David Adams, my boss.
David is as American as they come. Not like, native, but you know the
kind of person I mean. No ties to any sort of ethnicity, no foreign-
sounding name, just...plain-ol' Wonder Bread American. So of course it
makes perfect sense for him to name and decorate his shop with a Soviet-
era Russian motif. Projekt Katgut doesn't even make sense, it's that sort
of quasi-foreign name you'd expect from an 80's heavy metal band, not one
of the finest violinists the world has ever seen.
The shop is a stringed instrument lover's paradise. Violins, Violas,
Cello, Bass, we have it all. We sell instruments, we teach you how to
play said instruments, hell, ever since Luke expanded the repair workshop,
we even make instruments. Luke is actually a pretty good luthier as well,
with an eye for unique designs and a willingness to break the molds of
tradition. I like Luke.
I never, ever wanted to work in a shop. I distinctly told myself, my
mother, my orchestra teacher, that there is no way I'd end up working in a
shop.
I work in a shop.
Still sipping my coffee (Julie had taken the time to draw a hand flipping
me the bird into the foam. How touching), I backed into the door of the
shop. A chirp from the alarm system brought David's attention up from his
newspaper, his shaggy ginger hair flying as he raised his head.
"Hey, Rachel, glad you're here, we're swamped!" He chortled, that way that
only fat people could. Not a soul in the store aside from the two of us.
Luke would be in the back. This was not uncommon. We did most of our
business later in the day, but repairs, especially, took time that gave us
reason to open early, which we did.
"Yeah, I can tell," I responded, dropping my laptop bag to the floor
behind the counter with a satisfying *thud*. Dropping valuable
electronics is fun, kids! Try this at home!
"There's a backlog in the workshop. Help Luke out until I need you."
Great. The workshop. The poorly ventilated workshop that felt more like
a furnace in the July California sun. I said nothing, but headed back
there.
Luke was already busy, having gotten in an hour before me. Cracked
fingerboards, broken tailpieces, not to mention the minor maintenance jobs
we did for people who had more money than they had common sense. Luke was
the one who paid the bills here. Without turning or acknowledging my
presence in any polite way, he gestured toward the glue pot, which I
immediately moved to. He was in the middle of replacing a cracked c-rib
on a viola, and needed to glue it in quickly.
Luke and I spent a lot of time working together, and I'd come to
appreciate the way he worked silently. The only sound I would hear
sometimes would be the droning of the decades-old ventilation fan embedded
in the wall. When we stopped working, however, that was a different
story, Luke was always chatting about design ideas, music theory, and
wood. I had no doubt that, were Luke to apply his ideas more rationally,
he'd easily be the next Stradivarius.
That day, however, was not a silent day. My headache had returned in full
force, and I nearly doubled over in pain within seconds of handing the
glue off to him. Luke dropped what he was doing, nearly damaging the
viola further, and caught me, keeping me from falling.
"Are you all right?" he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him,
nodding. The truth was, I wasn't entirely sure. In that instant, that
fraction of a second where my eyes were closed, it was like I was
somewhere else. And truth be told, my head was hurting so bad, I kind of
wished I had been...wherever that somewhere might have been. Maybe there,
I wouldn't be in so much pain.
"Yeah. I'll be fine. Just gonna head up front and get some aspirin or
something." Luke helped me stand upright, and we both headed to the front
of the store.
David was startled. Luke's frame didn't usually grace the shop area, and,
well, he had a bit of a startling frame. Standing 6'7, with a strong
build, he was the type who never usually had to ask twice for anything.
He and I had that in common, but for different reasons.
Six aspirin and as many hours later, I was finally free for the day.
David had let me get out a bit early due to the headache, under the
pretense that I was to 'have it looked at'. It was nothing a nap wouldn't
sort out. My final cup of coffee for the day came from Julie's shop,
although she was long gone by now. In her place was a redhead...possibly
one of the cutest girls I'd ever seen. Undoubtedly straight. Undoubtedly
brand new at her job. Undoubtedly underage. That last thought I tried to
ignore, since by dating Sulyn I'd sort of thrown my ability to care about
a potential partner's age out the window. Right?
3:15 PM. Tuesday. Keys in basket. Laptop on couch. Jacket on couch.
Shoes on floor. Rachel on couch. Phone ringing. Rachel ignoring.
4:50 PM. Tuesday. Rachel sitting up. Head pounding. It felt like there
was a tiny person banging on the inside of my skull. Well above the
recommended daily allowance of every painkiller I have access to. Sleep
is not happening.
"Fuck!" I shout, throwing the bottle of Tylenol, or maybe it was Motrin,
at the wall. I hung my head in my hands. Sulyn would be busy for another
half-hour, then I'd talk to her. She'd make me go to a doctor, though,
which I had no desire to do. Maybe, though, it was one of those things
that wasn't going to go away on its own.
5:30 PM. Like clockwork, she logs in. Like expected, she delivers one of
her famous ultimatums: Until I've been to a professional, not a word from
her. Fine. Not like I have anything else to do.
My landlady is a sweet old woman, who I've done dozens of favors for in
the past. Now was time to collect: I needed her to drive me to the
urgent care center. Three knocks on her door. It's a migraine from hell,
give me a lift.
She drives like an old woman. It takes long enough to get there, that the
tiny bit of relief I'd gotten from the last overdose of painkillers has
worn off. She gets me registered while I try to avoid the fetal position,
which is looking mighty comfortable at this point.
I sat in the waiting room for what felt like a month. Finally, a perky
young guy who also gave off that "new on the job" vibe called my name,
taking me to a small exam room. Standard procedure is a full-body nano-
scale MRI, so I took out my piercings; an industrial bar through my left
ear, a half-dozen other studs between the two, a ring through my eyebrow,
a stud in my lip, a ring in my navel; and placed them in the lead-lined
box provided. I hated this part. I stripped, closed the scanner, and
felt it hum to life. Fortunately, it only took a few seconds and I was
able to get out. Ain't modern medicine grand?
Another thousand years later, an entirely too-perky doctor came in,
holding the biggest tablet computer I'd ever seen.
"You must be Rachel." I looked into her face, and smirked.
"No! My name is...fuck, I don't have a good comeback."
"Well, that's understandable. Your head must be killing you!" She
exclaimed showing me the tablet's screen, which was an animated rendition
of my brain. I assumed it was, anyway. It was a brain scan, alright, but
it looked all wobbly.
"Yeah, all day actually. Painkillers aren't doing shit to help, either."
"No, I don't imagine they would. You've got one of the worst cases of
quantum entanglement syndrome I've ever seen!"
"You're gonna have to dumb it down for me, doc."
"You have two brains in that head of yours! You got a parasite
intelligence, sugar!"
Fuck. That's gonna wreck my whole day.
Nadine
- 23.03.2022
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