Love in the Time of Zombies

by Cassandra Gannon

“Fine. Whenever.” He finished setting up the coffee pot and busied himself lighting a cigarette. “Before you eventually do go, you’re gonna have to train Tanna, though. She’s agreed to wear a naughty stewardess outfit as office attire, so I promised her your job, after you leave.”

  Scotlyn made a face. “And you promised me that you’d quit smoking. You might not care about your health, but I care about mine and I’m not breathing in your fumes. You’ll thank me when we don’t die of lung cancer in twenty years.”

  “Keep nagging and you’re gonna be dead a lot sooner than that.” But, he dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it out with his radioactive green flip-flop.

  “You’re going to ruin the linoleum! Do you know how much that’ll cost to repair?”

  He rolled his incredible eyes towards the skylight as if he was the one suffering. “God, you’re annoying in the morning.”

  “It’s midnight, Zeke, not morning.”

  “Technically, midnight is morning, Little Miss Know it All.”

  Scotlyn ignored that. “If you would just set an alarm…” She stopped herself and took a deep breath, refocusing her energy. “Actually, no. It’s good that this happened. It’s a perfect segue. I’ve been waiting for you to wake-up, because we need to talk.”

  “That sounds ominous. Shouldn’t we get to have sex, at least once, before we break-up?”

  Scotlyn disregarded that. “I’m not going to let you flush our business away, because you’re not in the mood to be a grown-up.” Her feelings towards Topless Golf World were gallingly complex. As much as she hated this place, she still felt the need to try and make it better. Actually, she felt the same way about Zeke. “Isn’t that why you kept me around me? To help you run things?”

  He shrugged, his attention on his brewing coffee. “Truthfully? I kept you around because any woman who shows up for work in a little plaid schoolgirl skirt stays on the payroll. That’s a point of pride at this organization.”

  “That skirt was a Dior, you pervert. It was perfectly suitable for a professional interview with a new boss. And I’m trying to have a real conversation here.” Scotlyn pointed a finger at him. “Someone has to have an intervention with you about your business practices. Have you even looked at the list of money saving ideas I drew up for you?”

  He squinted. “There was a list?”

  “Yes! I gave it to you on Tuesday.”

  The squint got even squintier. “I thought today was Tuesday.”

  “Today’s Friday!” Friday the thirteenth, actually. She’d become morbidly aware of all unlucky omens. “Now, pay attention, unless you want to wind up as a jobless hobo. You need to institute some changes to help Topless Golf succeed. I know what I’m talking about here. I went to business school.”

  “You flunked out.” He reminded her in a disgustingly chipper tone.

  “I dropped out and that’s not the point. You’re doing everything wrong! It’s like you don’t even care about your livelihood. Our livelihood.”

  He glanced at her with a frown. “Is that what you’re worried about? Don’t. I have enough cash to cover your salary for the week.”

  “Considering what you pay me, I’m sure that’s true.”

  “If I give you a raise, will you promise to shut up and let me drink my coffee?”

  Scotlyn ignored that. She never told Zeke how badly she needed money. Her mountainous debt embarrassed her, considering the fact that he seemed insanely well-off, for a do nothing. “It’s a miracle you’ve stayed solvent this long.” She continued. “I’ve also made you a list of your major attitude problems, which contribute to our loss of revenue, if you want to hear it.”

  “Not really. Let’s talk about you quitting some more, instead. It cheers me up.”

  “You need to take your job more seriously or this business will never go anywhere.”

  He gave a bark of laughter at that assessment. “Trixie, wherever Topless Golf is going… we’re already there.” Zeke swept a hand around the shabby room. “Bask in the glory of our empire.”

  Scotlyn scowled.

  Why did she even bother trying to help him?

  The only thing Zeke took seriously was what brand of frozen pizza to buy. (No sodium, thick crust, extra pepperoni. Not that she was paying attention.) The man was brilliant, but, as far as Scotlyn could tell, all he’d accomplished in his thirty-some years of living was winning some poker games and memorizing the Klingon dictionary. If he put half the concentration into running his business that he did into watching Maury every afternoon, maybe Topless Golf World would have some actual customers.

  The worst part was Zeke seemed perfectly content squandering his potential. Anyone who interrupted his lifestyle of hedonistic excess got punched, snapped at, or ridiculed.

  Except for Scotlyn.

  She was the only one who ever got in his face and survived with all her limbs intact. For some reason, Zeke tolerated her lectures and insults. Oh he snarked at her, but he really should have fired her long ago, given her insubordinate attitude. Honestly, she had no idea why he kept her around. He could’ve found another secretary who’d caused him a lot less trouble and who’d probably sleep with him. It didn’t make any sense, even by Zeke’s twisted logic.

  “Zeke….” Scotlyn trailed off in annoyance, when he started checking his phone for updates on the newest Star Wars movie. “You have no idea how frustrated you make me.”

  “You’re feeling frustrated?” Zeke scoffed. “Well, you might wanna consider getting a sex life, then.” He frowned down at the phone, gave it a “why-is-this-thing-not-working?” sort of shake and then gave up, shoving it back into his pocket. “You are still flyin’ solo in the bedroom, right?” Her lack of a boyfriend was his other favorite subject.

  She scowled. “I could sue you for sexual harassment, just for asking that question. If you had anything worth suing for, I probably would.”

  “Yep. That’s what I thought. You’re still, not gettin’ any.” He sounded unbearably pleased about that. “Come on, Trix. Fess up. What kinda man are you waiting for? Like a doctor, right? Nice girls love themselves some doctors. Anything that takes lots of studying turns them on like that Thunder from Down Under show.”

  Scotlyn leaned back in her chair and fixed him with a flat look. “You need some new material. I was a showgirl. That means --by definition-- I’m not such a nice girl.”

  He gave that slow smile that made her insides melt, despite the fact that she almost completely detested him. “Yes, you are.”

  Yes, she was.

  Damn it.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from the hypnotic pull of his eyes. “And anyway, I don’t date jobs. I date men. After all, if someone were to judge me about where I work, I’d stay single forever.”

  “You sayin’ that respectable people don’t frequent Topless Golf? I resent that. We once had the Mayor visit us.”

  “She was trying to shut us down!”

  “Still, I got her picture with me.” He pointed to the framed photo on the wall of the angry looking Mayor, some chanting protesters with anti-pornography sighs, and Zeke giving a thumbs-up at the camera.

  Scotlyn did not almost smile every time she looked at that silly thing. “Her Honor’s patronage aside, my future husband won’t frequent this dump. At least, I hope not.”

  All her life, Scotlyn had been waiting for the kind of guy you’d marry. Sadly, he’d yet to show-up. Sometimes, she doubted he ever would, but she still held out a tiny bit of hope that he’d make his heroic entrance and her dreams would come true.

  She seriously needed to get out more.

  Zeke’s mouth gave a strange twist. “Yeah. Well, fantasize about Mr. Right, if you want. I’m just sayin’, in the meantime, you need to get laid.” He glanced over at her through the haphazardly cut length of his bangs. “And if you need a volunteer…”

  “Nice try.”

  He grinned at her tone. “Don’t be such a Puritan. I promise you’l
l have fun.”

  Oh, she had no doubt about that. “I’m not going to bed with you, Zeke, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, but why?” It was a bantering whine. Zeke’s flirting, come-ons, and propositions were always one big joke to him. If she was ever crazy enough to take him up on any of them, he’d probably run for the hills.

  Scotlyn has no idea why she even bothered to answer him with the truth. Probably because she spent an annoying amount of time reminding herself of all the reasons she should stay away from him, so the answer was front and center in her brain. “Aside from the fact you’re a repulsive jackass, it would feel wrong to sleep with you.”

  He made a scoffing sound. “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “For me it would. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone unless things were… special between us.”

  Zeke blinked like she was a complete enigma. “Really?” He finally asked, as if he was half-convinced she was joking.

  “Yes. Really.” Was that so bizarre a concept?

  He slowly shook his head. “Jesus, you really are going for the all-time record of consecutive acts of good girly-ness committed in Las Vegas.” The mockery faded from his incredible eyes and he looked somehow unsettled. “Fine. Save yourself for Sir Lancelot.” He turned back towards his office. “I’m gonna be busy playing Xbox for the next six hours. Don’t bother me.”

  “This is supposed to be your shift…” Scotlyn made a face as he slammed his door shut. No wonder he had to pay for sex, given what a grouchy, moody, annoying…

  Oh.

  She absently glanced back at her computer monitor and winced at the “auction ended” banner glowing at the top of the screen. Right. She’d forgotten about that. Clearly, she needed to concentrate on something besides her evil employer.

  eBay. Imminent bankruptcy. Selling all her worldly goods.

  Think.

  What else could she do to get money?

  If she had parents, Scotlyn supposed she could’ve hit them up for a loan, but she’d been abandoned as an infant. Her earliest memories were of orphanages and foster homes. Most of which --no matter what 20/20 exposes on the subject seemed to suggest-- had been really supportive. She’d never been abused or neglected. Hell, several of her foster parents still sent her birthday cards. But, none of them had the cash to pay her rent.

  Scotlyn ran a hand through her shoulder length curls and frowned.

  Hey, did wigmakers still buy hair like in Little Women? She pulled a strand in front of her eyes, considering its possible untapped value. Were there even such things as wigmakers, anymore? There must be. Where did the hair in wigs come from if not from other people’s heads? The strawberry blonde color of her curls was Scotlyn’s best feature. People always complimented it. Maybe her hair was worth a fortune to some black market wig trader.

  She winced.

  Yeah, that sounded desperate, even to her.

  To Scotlyn’s eternal shame, she still actually tried Googling information on the human hair business, but the stupid internet seemed to be down. Shit. She frowned at the screen in annoyance. Why was she –alright, why was Zeke-- paying for high speed access if the damn thing wasn’t going to work when she needed…

  A sound came from outside and Scotlyn’s head whipped around to stare out at the golf course in alarm. Her desk sat in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the greens. She could see all eighteen holes and she knew that there shouldn’t have been a single customer playing on any of them…

  Except there was some drunken guy staggering around Mount St. Hot, Hot, Hot. He seemed to be walking into the side of it, backing up, and then walking into it, again. Over and over, so the whole thing shook. Then, he took his hands and gave it a ruthless shake.

  “Zeke!” She bellowed, even as she sprang towards the door and out onto the course.

  Mount St. Hot, Hot, Hot was the largest and most delicate obstacle at TGW. Shaped like a gigantic volcano, it was made of thin fiberglass. Glowing red lava trails made from Christmas tree lights, trailed down its sides and tiny naked women were tossed in the ten foot smoke stack, via clockwork mechanism. When you sunk your putt, the “volcano goddess” celebrated with an array of orgasmic sounds and an eruption of sparklers.

  The whole stupid contraption was held together with duct tape and prayers. If some lunatic broke it, her whole weekend would be spent cursing at power tools and crying over her ruined manicure. That wasn’t going to happen.

  Zeke came stalking out of his office at her shout. “What did I do to piss you off, now…?” He stopped short, sizing things up pretty quickly. “Son-of-a-bitch. Scotlyn, no!”

  Scotlyn disregarded that order, intent on saving her volcano. “Stay away from that, you moron! You’re going to break it!”

  As she got closer, the guy’s unfocused eyes and halting steps told her that she was dealing with something way stronger than alcohol here. He looked like he was drooling, a long stream of saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth and glistening in the course’s floodlights. As she watched, the guy tore loose a piece of the volcano’s plastic side and ate it.

  “Fuck.” Zeke could move fast when he wanted to. He was across the office, before she’d even gotten passed hole three. “Scottie, I swear to Christ!” He seized hold of her arm and yanked her to a halt. “Go back inside or I really will fire your ass.”

  “Promise?” She tried to wrench herself free of his grasp, but Zeke didn’t let release her. “Are you kidding me?” Scotlyn glowered up at him, ignoring the radiating warmth of his body and the feel of his palm on her skin. “Stop being an idiot and let me go.”

  Whenever she got within a foot of Zeke her heart started pounding and touching him just made it worse. Whatever weird pheromone his body gave off, she was positive he did it deliberately to mess with her head.

  He ignored her complaints and adjusted his grip, so her wrist wound up pinned behind her back. Scotlyn’s eyes widened in surprise as Zeke tugged her forward. Her free palm automatically came up to rest on the wide expanse of his shoulder.

  How had he done that? The guy spent four hours a day flicking pencils into the acoustic tiles of his ceiling. But, in less than two seconds, he’d expertly captured her body against his, keeping her hand trapped against her spine and her breasts flattened against his chest. That wasn’t an accident. Every move he made was deliberate, as if he’d practiced complicated martial arts maneuvers from the cradle and her brief struggle was just like someone swatting at a fly.

  That just pissed her off more. “He’s destroying hole eight, while you play caveman, Ezekiel!”

  “Does it seem like I give a shit about this golf course? Get inside. When you die, I want the joy of killing you myself.”

  Scotlyn’s insides took a dip. Okaaaaaay. That determination was new. Suddenly, a different, harder person was possessing her slacker boss. She wasn’t intimidated by his badass tactics. In fact, she felt very safe. She always felt safe with Zeke. Her eyes stayed locked on his, even as her body grew warmer. Every time she breathed, her chest rubbed against his, her breasts getting tight. She’d never been this close to him before. It was annoyingly, embarrassingly, pitifully exciting.

  Zeke felt it, too. His lavender gaze glowed hot as the hard points of her nipples grazed him. Her bra was a beautiful concoction of silk and lace that did absolutely nothing to hide her desire. He tugged her a tiny bit closer and she felt the hard evidence of his arousal.

  Scotlyn felt her jaw drop. Jesus, he wasn’t joking, for once. He was turned on and that just had her whole body tingling. It was such a bad idea, but Scotlyn still moved against him. It was just a tiny instinctive rocking of her hip, but it was still… acceptance.

  His expression got ever harsher. “Don’t.” He warned. “You won’t like what you unleash, baby.”

  Actually, she was willing to bet that she’d like it a lot.

  Still, he was right. This whole thing had gotten out of control and that worried her. In some bizarre way, Zeke was her best friend. Whe
n she wasn’t despising him or mentally undressing him, anyway. He was the one she talked to and spent time with. She didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize their weird relationship.

  Scotlyn dropped her gaze and tried to refocus. “I care about the golf course.”

  Zeke cleared his throat. “I know you do. I’ll stop the intruder, alright? Not you.” He released Scotlyn, but not before giving her a not-so-subtle nudge back towards the office. Once he stood between Scotlyn and the drugged-out lunatic, his normal sardonic tone returned. “And remind me again why I’m paying you to watch the front desk? How did you let this guy in?”

  “I didn’t. He must’ve scaled the back fence or something.”

  “We need barbwire. Put that on one of your lists and order some tomorrow.” He studied the grunting invader for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Crazy damn meth head.” He started towards the volcano…

  …And that’s when Scotlyn saw that he was carrying a revolver.

  Whoa… hang on. Zeke had a gun?!

  Shit.

  “Zeke, wait. Don’t do anything crazy here.” Jesus, it was like the man was allergic to having good ideas. “Experts always say that you shouldn’t have a weapon in your hand during a confrontation.”

  “Bullshit. You wouldn’t need weapon unless you were in confrontation.”

  Touché.

  “Well, before you open fire, bear in mind that Nevada has the death penalty.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The cops aren’t going to find the body.”

  God, but she hoped he was kidding.

  Scotlyn chased after him, because there was always a chance he might be serious. Zeke had a lousy sense of humor about trespassers and an inability to think more than five seconds into the future. That didn’t bode well for any kind of peaceful compromise.

  “Let’s just call the police.” They’d take their own sweet time responding to anything in this part of town, but she’d rather the golf course get chewed apart piece by piece than see Zeke go to prison for murder one. “Zeke…”

  “Yo, ass-wipe, you have two fucking seconds to get off of my property, before I personally test the local gun laws.” He shouted, nearing Mount St. Hot, Hot, Hot. Above his head, white puffs of fog-machine fog poured from the volcano’s mouth and into the dark sky.