Rising Heat Read Online Free

moisture resistant?”
    The manager shrugged. “It doesn’t leak, if that’s what you mean.”
    I should’ve known. The guy was looking for an easy sale and like an idiot, I let myself be talked into it just because I was in a hurry. I bought the tank, despite my reservations, a heat lamp, and a few other things. It hadn’t taken long for my snake to push against one corner of the tank, break the seal, and escape, leaving shards of glass all over my floor to greet me when I got home that afternoon.
    So, yes, the lady from the pet store was bringing another fish tank, but that was just a temporary solution. I would get online later and do what I should’ve done in the first place. Get a proper python enclosure.
    I stopped halfway toward my bedroom area and glanced back at my messy living room, then spied a t-shirt laying over one arm of the sofa. I grabbed it and clutched it in one hand, not caring whether it was wrinkled or even stained with grease as I headed down the hallway. In my spare time — who was I kidding? All I had was spare time — I liked to tinker with my bike, and that was my work shirt. My boots echoed loudly against the hardwood floor as I kept an eye out for my snake. With my luck, it would be hiding under my bed. Great.
    Stepping inside the bathroom, I flicked the light switch and glanced inside. Nothing. I turned to leave, but then realized that the snake might have gotten into the bathtub. I brushed aside the shower curtain and looked. Nope.
    Turning from the tub, I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. I needed a haircut. Shoulder length, wavy brown hair. I glanced down at the countertop, pulled open a drawer and retrieved a rubber band. I quickly pulled my hair into a ponytail. I didn’t want to scare the pet store woman away before she even got inside. Although as I stared at my reflection, I realized that I probably would.
    I rubbed my palm over the stubble on my cheeks and jaw line. Not only did I need a haircut, I needed a shave. I glared into my blue eyes and my eyebrows furrowed further. Seemed like I was always frowning. Don’t ask me why. I always looked mad, even when I wasn’t.
    I needed to shake this bad mood off before the pet store lady came. What the hell did she say her name was? I tried to smile, but my lips pursed into an assessing frown. No, that wouldn’t do. I tried again. Better. At least my teeth were white and straight. In fact, the smile made me appear less threatening. Then I frowned again. What the hell did I care what I looked like to the assistant manager?
    I shook my head, muttered under my breath, and left the bathroom, my thoughts focused again on Alice. Where the hell had she gone? Sometimes she was hard to see because of her coloring; dark brown, like coffee with gold splotches. At her thickest, she was about three inches in circumference. She was fairly docile, but if she felt threatened, she would bite.
    The buzzer blaring from my door downstairs pulled me away from my thoughts. A narrow stairway connected my loft door to the thick metal door downstairs. I snatched the crumpled t-shirt off the bathroom sink, still holding on to it while I hurried toward the loft door. Despite the fact that I was angry about the tank, I realized I couldn’t take it out on this poor woman. I tried to tamp down my anger and frustration as I reached for the door, turned the knob, and quickly took the stairs two at a time.
    At the bottom, lit by the glow of a bare lightbulb hanging from a thin chain, I unlatched both of the deadbolt locks and pulled it open. The woman standing on the other side was not at all what I expected. She wasn’t middle-aged, far from it. I don’t know why I thought an assistant manager at a pet store would be middle-aged, but there you have it. She was young, maybe early twenties. Blonde, shoulder-length hair worn loose. Her baby blue eyes widened as she gaped up at me. I realized I still hadn’t put the shirt