He washed his face with fresh water, and went back to his chair. No newEmails, just that first one. He looked around one more time, to makesure he had...some privacy and clicked on the trashcan. Then, he clickedonce more on the dreadful Email. Rushing back, he finished reading...it was a blackmailing all right. He was to phone to a certain hairsalon during lunch hours and talk to someone named Ruby, otherwise,that Email, along with much more evidence of his late shift'sproductivity, would be sent. She had already gotten a leg up on the bar when she noticed Tom, and he her. They went still. ‘What are you doing here?’ Tom asked. ‘Practicing. I have a big final Thursday. What are you doing here?’ ‘Choreographing. I have a presentation on Wednesday. Look, I reserved the space.’ ‘No, I did. Online. There’s nothing available any other time this week, I need this room.’ They looked at each other for a moment. He cleared his throat. ‘So do I. This grade is important. I 100% officially booked. More

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