Love and Demotion Read Online Free Page B

Regina’s mother was a classically trained cellist who listened to only classical music, and insisted Regina listen to only classical in the house. Alice Finch worked as a docent at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and as far as she was concerned, the only acceptable forms of music, painting, and literature were the classics: in her household, there was no “pop” in music, no “modern” in art, no “pulp” in fiction.
“How was your first day?” Carly asked, looking up from her copy of W magazine. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing a pair of perfectly faded bell-bottom jeans, a cashmere half-sweater, her honey-blonde hair was in a messy knot. “Did the other library kids play nice?” The room smelled like her Chanel Allure perfume.
“It was fine. Thanks,” Regina said, dropping her heavy bag on the floor and walking into the kitchen to get a Coke. She could never tell if Carly was genuinely interested in talking to her or if it was just a reflex since she was the only other person in the room. Regina knew that Carly didn’t understand how “shelving books” — as she put it – could be the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. But that’s exactly what it was to her; From the times she was six and her father starting bringing her to the library every Saturday afternoon – not even the New York Library, just their small library in Gladwynne, Pennsylvania – Regina had known it was where she belonged. She never went through a phase of wanting to be a schoolteacher, or a veterinarian, or a ballerina: for Regina, it had always been about becoming a librarian. She wanted to be surrounded by the smell of books, to be responsible for the rows and rows of tidy shelves, of the meticulous cataloguing and of helping people discover the next great novel they would read, or the book that would help them so the research that would earn them a degree or solve an intellectual riddle. She knew this from the time she was little, and she never lost focus.
And now her dream had come true, as small and ridiculous as it might seem to a woman like Carly Ronak, who had spent her girlhood dreaming of becoming the next Tory Burch.
“Good to hear,” Carly said. “Listen, I’m having a friend over tonight. I hope we won’t be in your way.” What she really meant was that she hoped Regina would have the decency to stay in her bedroom and not get in their way.
“Don’t worry about me. I have a lot of reading to do.”
“Oh – and your mother called. Twice,” Carly said, handing Regina a purple post-it note with the message scribbled on it in illegible Sharpie ink.
In an attempt to cut her expenses for the move to New York, Regina had gotten rid of her cell phone. This had the welcome consequence of making it impossible for her mother to contact her twenty-four/seven. Unfortunately, anyone in Regina’s life who happened to have a land line was now paying the price.
Regina crumpled the note and stuffed it in her pocket.
    *** ***
    Regina woke to the sound of someone breaking into the apartment. At least, that’s what it sounded like to her. And then she realized it was just Carly’s headboard banging into her wall.
This was accompanied by moaning, and Carly’s no doubt unnecessary cry of, “Fuck me!”
More moaning, this time a man’s voice. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall got harder and faster, and the tenor of their voices seemed indicative of violence rather than pleasure. And then it was silent.
Regina found herself breathing heavily. She didn’t know whether it was from being startled awake, or from the nature of the sounds she was hearing. It was disturbing and arousing at the same time, and this bothered here more than the fact that she was literally losing sleep over her roommate’s sex life.
She knew she was behind the curve as far as the whole sex thing went; to be a virgin at her age was unthinkable to most people. But it was her reality – a reality that hadn’t bothered her until she