The muted pinks and reds of the Vancouver sunset drifted in through the open screen door, painting the living room in a myriad of scarlet hues. I was sprawled on the floor, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling and playing with the loose threads in the disgustingly ugly brown carpet. Somewhere off to my left, I knew that there was a very large, thick, unattractive textbook just waiting to be opened. I decided that it could wait a few more hours.

My cell phone vibrated against my hip. Glaring at nothing in particular, I pulled it from my pocket. "Hey?"

There was a rush of static, and the sounds of a busy city street. "Hola, Mel," Kira's voice finally penetrated the confusion of sound on the other end. It was a nickname that had started back when I first met the Japanese girl. She had been working as a teaching assistant for one of my classes. On the first day, she had forgotten her glasses, and instead of 'Carmin', she read 'Carmel' on the class list. We hadn't actually spoken or anything until about six weeks in, and by then she had been thinking of me as 'Mel' for so long that she decided it was easier to just stick with the shortened form of the name that wasn't mine, than to bother working to change the habit.

"Don't call me that."

She went right on talking as if I hadn't spoken a word. "Where are you?"

I rolled onto my side and reached for my cigarettes. "Neil's."

"You've got ten minutes, fifteen, depending on traffic, to get ready."

I arched an eyebrow, even though she wasn't there to see it. "A, I'm not going clubbing with you and your creepish punk-rock-poetry gang again. B, where are you? And C, since when do I listen to you?"

The little cardboard packet was just out of reach. Hissing in annoyance, I pushed myself into a sitting position. "A, We're not going clubbing. B, I'm just leaving Metrotown, hence the arrival in about fifteen minutes. And C, when have you not listened to me?"

I plucked the cigarettes off the coffee table and fumbled one-handed to get one out. "Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave."

I could hear the amusement in her voice when she next spoke. "You're not paying attention to me."

"Why?"

"You're quoting Jay's movies."

Shit. She was right. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut I pulled a cancer stick from the box. "I'm going to call Niel. Then I am going to chain smoke 'til you get here," I told her.

"No, you're not. You don't need to call Niel. You really don't need to call Niel while his little sister is in the hospital. And smoking shortens your life by fifteen years."

"And what a dreadful shame that would be," I said dryly.

"You're taking the job, aren't you?"

God damned overly perceptive bitch. Could she have been any more blunt about it? "Drop it, Kiriashi," I told her.

"You're gonna get hurt, Mel," she told me quietly.

I clenched my fists and forced myself not to smash any of Niel's ancient Egyptian statuettes. "Okay, Kira. In the last five minutes you've managed to disturb my peaceful hours of procrastination, reminded me of my ex-not-boyfriend, insulted my addictive habit of choice and demonstrated to me that you have no faith in my ability to research an article on my stepmom's ex-husband's ex-wife. I'm really hanging up, now." And I did. I took my cigs and my bottle of iced tea outside and sat on the porch until Kira's black convertible pulled up.