Matt heard the scrape of the double doors open out in the gym, then heard a familiar clomp clomp clomp as the gym’s receptionist crossed the tiled floor. When Roxie appeared in the doorway to Matt’s office, he glanced up at her and rolled his eyes. Her hair was dyed an unnatural shade of black, with two strands in the front fire-engine red. She had the sides pulled up into tight little balls that sprouted off the top of her head, the ends spiking out like rays. Her black long-sleeve T-shirt sported a skull and crossbones that wore a pink hair bow, and suspenders held up a short mini-skirt that flounced when she walked thanks to the crinoline petticoat underneath it. Capri-length black and white striped leggings and a clunky pair of black Doc Martens completed the picture. Sometimes Matt wo
