“There’s no point, Hols. There is no solution,” I mumble.
“Well, at least we will have tried. And if it fails, then we’ll drink ourselves silly,” she jokes.
Her attempt to lighten the mood works, because I laugh. Maybe getting drunk and forgetting my problems for a while is exactly what I need.
It sure can’t make things much worse.
***
“Okay,” I say when she opens the door. “What’s the answer?”
She rolls her eyes and opens the door wide enough for me to squeeze through.
“I didn’t say I had the answers,” she retorts. “I said we’d think one up. Or drink.”
“So? Start thinking, or pour me some wine,” I urge her. “One of the two.” We plop down on the couch together.
“Okay, fine, I’m thinking.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyebrows creasing in thought. “Okay, how about selling off some of your things? That heel collection of yours must be worth a fortune.” She narrows her eyes at my heels, prompting me to tuck them under me for safety. “Speaking of which, can I be the first to go through them?”
“Sell my heels?” I gasp. “No way. I’d rather sell myself.”
“You might not be far off that point if you can’t afford to feed yourself,” Holly retorts.
“And what am I supposed to wear?” I sneer. “Flip flops?”
“Uh, reasonably priced heels, like any other normal person?” She sighs and massages her temples. “V, work with me here. You have enough heels to open your own store. Surely you won’t miss a few pairs? And it’s not like you can’t get good shoes for a fraction of the cost.” She sticks her foot in my face and smiles proudly. “I picked these bad boys up at a flea market for a third of the cost they’d be new.”
“And they probably should’ve stayed there,” I say, screwing up my nose. “Whoever thought mustard yellow worked in heels was very wrong.”
“You can be so rude sometimes; it’s almost funny.” She giggles, shoving at my shoulder playfully. “I should probably be offended, but who has the energy these days?”
“If you want offensive, go speak to your brother,” I mutter. “Speaking of, what exactly did he say when he told you about my interview?” I ask her. “He seemed to think it was hilarious.”
“Honestly, he didn’t say much. Just that he ran into you. I think he was too busy stressing about his own problems to give it too much thought,” she replies.
“Hudson is having problems?” I pry, my curiosity getting the better of me. “What kind of problems?”
“Wait, weren’t you literally just bitter on him five seconds ago for spilling intel about you?” She giggles. “Now you want the gossip on him?”
I wave my hand. “That was before. So…?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “He was on his way to the bank when he ran into you. Apparently, it didn’t go too well,” she explains, making a face.
“He has his own business, right?” I muse.
She nods. “And it was going well, but work has dried up. He’s been really struggling the last few weeks. I’m worried about him. I can see it in his face how stressed out he is, but he won’t talk to me.”
Wow. If he was worried about anything, he didn’t show it. Today, he was the same confident, cocky Hudson I knew as a kid. Only sexier. I blush, thinking about him like that, catching me off guard.
“Where would I even sell my heels?” I finally ask, to get the conversation—and my mind—off Hudson. “Is there like a shop for that?”
“How about Craigslist?” she suggests. “Take photos, put them up, write a few words—”
“This is all sounding like a lot of work,” I cut in.
She laughs. “What, were you expecting someone would come in and take photos and do all the hard work for you?”
“Are you offering?” I ask, hopeful.
She reaches over and shoves me.
“Sorry, V. Not even I love you that much.” She considers things for a moment and then nods. “Okay, forget the heels. I have a better idea.” Her eyes sparkle as they fall on the four karat diamond pendant hanging around my neck, which I instinctively cover with my hand. “Sell off some of your jewelry.”
“My jewelry?” I repeat, my eyes widening in alarm.
“Sure. Why not?” she reasons. “It’s not like you wear half of it anyway,” she argues. “And that’s where the real money is. Your stash will keep you going for months. Well, a month, at least,” she corrects herself, remembering it’s me were talking about. “Until you figure something else out. You’re running out of options, V. It’s selling off your things, or you need to tone down your lifestyle. It’s up to you what you’re more attached to.”
“What if I don’t want to decide?” I grumble.
But I know she’s right.
I need to grow up and make some tough decisions.
I don’t have much of a choice.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hudson
“I'm sorry, Hudson. There's not much else I can do.”
I close my eyes and run my hand through my hair. This isn’t how I wanted to be woken up.
After meeting with Peter yesterday, I left feeling more confident than when I arrived. I knew things were bad, but I was sure he’d figure out something to get me out of this mess. This conversation has brought me crashing back down to reality.
If he can’t help me, then what hope do I have?
Every day it feels like I’m sinking deeper and deeper into debt. Sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating, but in the back of my mind, there’s a little voice telling me it will be okay. That voice is getting weaker, though, as the reality begins to set in, because I know I’m not going to be able to get myself out of this. Short of a miracle, I’m done. The worst bit is all the people I’m going to be taking down with me.
“Thanks,” I say, my tone cold.
It’s not his fault I’m in this position. I’ve only got myself to blame. Still, I can’t help feeling bitter.
“You know I’d help if I could, but Jesus, even I can’t make you look like a good investment at the moment,” he explains. I laugh, because that’s putting it mildly. “If there's any other way I can help out…”
“It’s fine; I’ll work it out. Thanks, though,” I add in a much calmer tone. “I mean it. I really do appreciate your help. I’ll speak to you later, okay?”
I hang up before he can answer and then roll over and bury my face in my pillow. It’s after eight, which means I really should be getting up, but staying in bed feels like a much more attractive option right now. If I get up, it makes it harder to ignore the downward spiral I’m headed for. I’m on the verge of cracking, and the last thing I want is for my guys to figure out that something is wrong. Not until I figure out a plan for them.
Matty especially. He has a kid on the way, for God’s sake. How can I tell him I’m not sure I can afford to pay him next week? I’m not even sure I’ll be able to afford to eat next week. I groan and rub my head. There has to be something I haven't thought of. A way to fix this. But even as I think it, I know there’s nothing. I’ve looked at this from every angle, and I can’t for the life of me work out where it all went wrong.
One minute, I think I'm really going to make something of myself against the odds, but then it turns out I was fooling myself. It would’ve been so much easier for me to not put in the hard work. I could’ve gone to work for someone else, but I didn’t.
I wanted to do this, and I really believed I could.
Sighing, I close my eyes, just for just a minute. If I go back to sleep, I can ignore the problem for a little longer. It’s ironic that what kept me awake nearly all night is the same thing I can so easily push out of my mind right now…
***
My eyes open with a start, and I glance at the clock next to my bed.
Shit.
It’s after twelve. How the fuck did that happen?
I rub my head, trying to wake myself up a little
more when someone pounds on my door. I jump, then realize that’s probably what woke me up in the first place. I fall out of the bed, throwing on some pants along the way as I stumble toward the door. I yank it open and sigh, relieved it’s only Holly.
She frowns as her dark eyes sweep over me. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, giving her a sheepish grin as I rub the back of my neck. “I guess I slept through my alarm.”
“You never sleep through your alarm,” she points out.
“Today I did.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal, even though she’s right. I haven’t slept in or been late for work since I started my business. “So what are you doing here anyway?” I add, changing the subject. “Checking up on me?”
“Do I need to check up on you?” she asks.
I open the door wider and let her inside, and then walk over to the kitchen. I need caffeine and a lot of it. She follows me, carefully hoisting herself up onto one of the stools lining the counter.
“Matty called me,” she explains when I don’t answer. “He was worried when you didn't turn up for work this morning. Even he knows you’re never late,” she adds, biting her lip. “We joke about how anal you are over time management. Remember?”
“Jesus, I know. I’ve just got a lot on my mind and forgot to set my alarm,” I snap, feeling like I’m in the middle of an interrogation. I sigh and lean against the kitchen counter. “Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. I'm just really stressed at the moment…”
“Are things that bad?” she asks.
I think about lying and pretending everything is fine, but what’s the point? She’s just going to keep hounding me until I tell her what’s going on.
“They’re getting to that point,” I admit. It’s as honest as I’ve been with anyone in a long time. I shake my head and laugh. “Let’s just say money is tight. I was an idiot to think I could do this in the first place,” I murmur.
“Don't talk like that,” she chastises. “You're great at what you do.”
“So great that I'm driving my business into the ground,” I say with a bitter laugh.
“You know that's not true,” she argues. “You’re just going through a difficult moment. I'm sure things will get better. You just wait.”
I shake my head. I wish I had her confidence. I've tried looking at it from every angle, but there’s no way out of this mess. The sooner I face up to that, the better. I’m better off just walking away. Holly sits, the concern in her eyes growing.
“It must be the time of year for money problems,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.
“What do you mean?” I ask, offering her a coffee. She nods, accepting the cup. “Well?”
“No, I shouldn't say anything…” She shakes her head with an embarrassed smile. “It’s really none of my business.”
“It’s never stopped you before,” I tease.
She narrows her eyes and reaches over to give me a playful shove.
“Okay, fine. I’m talking about Valentina,” Holly murmurs, like someone is going to overhear us. “You’ve heard about what happened, right?”
“Uh, no?” I laugh. “You think I follow her on Instagram or something?”
“Her father was arrested,” Holly explains. “It’s been all over the news.”
“Since when do you watch the news?” I grin.
“All her money has been frozen,” she continues, ignoring my dig. “I’m just saying things are really bad for her. It kind of puts things in perspective, huh?”
“You think it’s worse for her because she’s used to having money?” I ask.
I’m not sure how that works.
“No, it’s worse for her because her father is in jail, asshole,” Holly fires back.
Right. That’s a fair point.
“So, everything she owns has been frozen?” I muse. My mind wanders back to yesterday. Considering what she’s going through, she looked pretty good. “I guess that explains the interview. I thought it was out of character for her. So, did she get the job?” I add.
Holly nods. “Yes, they hired her on the spot.”
“Wow, they must’ve been pretty desperate.” I grin.
“Hey,” Holly retorts, “that’s my friend you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on.” I chuckle. “I’m not being mean, but you have to admit she doesn’t exactly scream working girl.” I pause, a smirk playing on my lips. “At least, not in that sense of the word.” I laugh, dodging Holly’s fist as she attempts to punch me in the arm. “Seriously though, I do admire her for going out and getting a job. That couldn’t have been easy.”
“Too bad it won’t make enough of a difference.” Holly mumbles. “What she made yesterday would be lucky to fund an hour of her lifestyle.”
“Then she needs to tone it down,” I say with a shrug. “Living within your means isn’t rocket science.”
“Give the girl a break. Her father’s in jail, and she has no family. It’s all fine and easy to say she needs to tone it down, but that’s how she’s lived her whole life.”
Maybe I am being too hard on her, but she still needs to make some sacrifices.
She doesn’t have a choice in the matter it seems, now that her daddy dearest is in jail and the money train has derailed.
“Anyway, I better go,” Holly announces, getting to her feet. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help you?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine, Hols. I’m making it out to be way worse than it is. Short term cash flow problems. That’s it. In fact, I’m expecting a call from the bank today,” I explain, lying through my teeth.
She nods, but I can tell from the look in her eyes she doesn’t believe me.
After I walk Holly out, I text Matty, then I shower and get dressed.
So, Valentina is having money issues.
It’s the sort I’d find amusing if I didn't understand exactly what she’s going through. Holly’s right about one thing. For someone who’s never had to worry about money, she must be really struggling with having nothing. She's no doubt worried about her father and feeling isolated right now. With the exception of Holly, I can’t imagine too many of her friends would be hanging around to offer their support.
***
The moment I hit the worksite, I push everything from my mind and focus on getting on with the job. It's the same as every other day, because they all start to blend into one another when you’re dodging phone calls from angry suppliers. And then the paranoia that you’re ignoring a potential new job kicks in, so you answer and have to come up with another weak ass excuse as to why the latest payment failed. Story of my life.
“Are you okay?”
I look up and smile at Matty as he hands me his timesheet. “Sorry, I’m not being nosey, you just look lost in your own little world there.”
“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind right now,” I explain. “How are you doing? How’s Marisa?”
Matty beams at the mention of his wife, who is only a few weeks away from giving birth to their first kid.
“She’s good. I’m the one who’s a nervous wreck,” he laughs. “A kid? I never signed up for that.”
“You signed up for it the moment you put your dick inside her,” I retort, slapping him on the back.
He laughs and rubs his jaw. “I guess that’s true. All I can say is thank god for this job. The bills are already starting to pile up, and with Marisa being off work…” He laughs again. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear my problems.”
He’s right. I don’t. Only because it’s making me feel as guilty as hell.
I don’t even know if I can pay him next week, let alone if he’ll still be working for me in a month. But how the fuck can I tell him that? The way things are going, we’re both going to be lining up to claim our unemployment benefits.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. “If you ever want to talk…”
I force a smile. “Dude, I’m fine. I’m just wonderi
ng why the hell we’re standing here and not out somewhere drinking? You might as well make the most of your free time while you still have it,” I tease.
He chuckles. “Would it be weird if I said I’m looking forward to it? Dirty diapers and sleepless nights aside, there’s something pretty damn special about having a little person depend on you.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I’m in no hurry to find out.” I grin.
I might not be certain of much, but I definitely don’t see kids on the horizon anytime soon.
CHAPTER FIVE
Valentina
I stand outside the pawn shop, trying to build up the nerve to go inside. I still can’t believe I’m doing this, but I guess this is my life now. Scrimping together every cent I can to make ends meet. My friends have all but deserted me. With the exception of Holly, I haven’t heard from any of them. Not even Pen. I shouldn’t be surprised, though part of me is expecting them to be lining up, ready to take things like my shoes and clothes off my hands.
I throw one last glance over my shoulder to make sure nobody I know is around, and then I push through the door. I jump when the bell above the door rings, causing the man behind the counter to look up. A bemused smile fills his face.
“Chanel is a few blocks down that way,” he says, smirking at me.
I narrow my eyes at his attitude and then force myself to walk over to him, spilling the contents of my bag out over his display counter.
“How much for all of this?” I ask.
I wait, my insides churning into a mess of knots as he gets to his feet. Without a word, he examines every single item under his magnifying glass.
“Five hundred dollars for the lot,” he finally says.
I stare at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry. I glance around at the luxurious collection of gems that my friends have envied for years. Five hundred dollars? I wouldn’t even accept that for one of these.
“Are you kidding me?” I lunge forward and pick up a ring and thrust it closer to his face. “This alone cost $5000. There has to be over fifty grand worth of stuff here,” I add.
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