by Sara Mack
That does sound enticing. I sigh. “I can’t right now.”
“You can.”
“I don’t think so. I need to find a job. Are you going to pay my bills?”
“If you need help, yes.”
“I won’t take your money, Pete.”
“Would you stop being so complicated?” He sounds like our dad. “Get your ass in the car and drive west. I’m trying to make you feel better and you’re not making it easy.”
A few of my neighbors walk out the door with their arms full of clothes and toiletries. The sight depresses me. I don’t want to be a nomad. I also don’t want to be a jobless twenty-six year old staying with her parents. Maybe I do need a change of scenery.
“Fine,” I say quietly.
“Fine? You’re coming?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome.” I can sense his smile through the phone. “When are you leaving?”
I look up at my building. “After I pack, I suppose. It shouldn’t take long if everything is ruined.”
“So, I’ll see you in five or six hours?”
I walk up the steps and open the door. “I’ll call you along the way.”
Chapter Three
“Eeeeeep!” Juliana throws her arms around my neck. “You’re here!”
I stare at my brother over his girlfriend’s shoulder. I can’t return her hug. I have a suitcase in each hand, a bag over my arm, my guitar strapped to my back, and eyelids that weigh more than bricks.
“I’m here,” I choke out.
Pete grins. “Don’t strangle her, Jules.”
Juliana steps back and hangs on to my arms. “We’re going to have so much fun!” she gushes. “I made us a pedicure appointment, I added you as my guest at the gym, there’s a party tonight at Latson’s –”
“Whoa,” I say. “It’s the butt crack of dawn. How did you do all that?”
“Online, silly.”
Oh. Of course. Silly me.
“I think Jen needs some sleep,” my brother says as he reaches for one of my suitcases. “Is this everything or is there more in the car?”
“No, this is it.”
I was able to pack most of my clothes into two large suitcases since everything in the closet stayed dry. I tried to bring as much as possible because my landlord has no clue when cleanup will begin. When I talked to him before I left, he said he would call when he had any information. He also reminded me to contact my insurance company to make a claim for my belongings. I hope my parents will help, since my furniture is ruined and I left town before meeting an adjuster.
“Come see your room,” Juliana says and takes my other bag. “I tried to spruce it up a little, but we may have to go shopping.”
I look at my brother, confused.
“She’s been up all night,” he says.
Juliana elbows him. “You can’t invite her to stay with you and expect her to live in a pig sty.”
“Thanks,” I say. I can only imagine what he had piled in there.
I follow them through the living room and down the hallway. The apartment is decorated differently than I remember. It looks more modern. A few pieces of abstract art hang on the walls and the furniture is plush and overstuffed. The entertainment center looks like it was forged from steel. I assume the changes are a reflection of Juliana’s taste more than my brother’s. I’ve never known him to decorate with anything other than old road signs and bean bag chairs.
“If the closet isn’t big enough we can get a dresser,” Juliana says as we enter my new space.
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Well …” She walks around the bed and opens the closet door. “I had to put Pete’s stuff somewhere.”
Half the closet is packed full. From where I stand I can see multiple shoe boxes, stacks of papers, and a couple of large plastic totes.
“Some of it is yours,” my brother grumbles as he sets my suitcase on the bed. “All that stuff from your yoga phase for example.”
Juliana makes a face. “Okay. So, there’s like, two things in there that are mine.”
I smile. Their bickering is cute. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it work.” I drop my tote bag at my feet, then pull my guitar strap over my head and set the instrument against the wall.
Pete looks at my bag. “What’s in there?”
“Just bathroom stuff and my purse.”
“The bathroom!” Juliana exclaims. She drops my suitcase and sprints toward the door. “I’ll clean out a drawer for you.”
My surprised eyes follow her as she leaves the room. “She’s excited,” I say as I sit on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, well.” My brother smiles and joins me. “Her best friend moved away about a month ago. She’s happy you’re here.”
I nod.
“So.” Pete clasps his hands between his knees. “How are you?”
“Tired,” I admit and roll my neck.
“Have you processed everything that’s happened?”
“Not really.” Instead of thinking during my drive, I turned up the music and turned off my brain.
“If you want me to kill him, I will.”
My brow jumps. “You mean my cheating ex-boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I have no doubt my brother could – and would – toss Derek. It’s what he does for a living. Pete cracks his knuckles for emphasis, and I notice his arm muscles flex against his shirt sleeve. “Have you gotten bigger?”
“A little.” He shrugs. “Answer my question.”
“You’re going to crush Juliana!” I playfully shove him. She’s so petite next to his huge, six-foot frame. “I don’t know why she puts up with you.”
He scowls. “What’s wrong with being healthy?”
“There’s a difference between being healthy and being Schwarzenegger.”
Juliana appears in the doorway holding a hair dryer. “I take it you don’t like big guys?”
To be honest, they intimidate me. “Obviously you do.”
She grins.
“I prefer my men to be more defined,” I say. “Not bulky.”
“Good to know.” Juliana wiggles her eyebrows before wrapping the dryer cord around the handle.
“Stop.” My brother glares at his woman. “My sister is here to relax, not date.”
“Whatever.” Juliana rolls her eyes.
I laugh, but silently agree with Pete.
“Now, back to my question.” He crosses his arms and looks at me. “Do you want me to kill him?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
His face lights up.
“But, no.”
His shoulders sag.
Scooting over, I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. “Thank you for wanting to, though.”
“Did you at least bitch him out?” he asks, hopeful.
“Of course! You know who you’re talking to, right?”
My brother pats my knee.
Juliana disappears from the doorway only to reappear seconds later. “The second drawer in the bathroom is yours.”
“Great.” I reach for my tote bag to find my toothbrush. “I’m ready for bed.”
Pete stands. “We’ll leave you alone for now. Sleep tight, Little J.”
“Ugh,” I groan at my nickname. “Don’t call me that.”
He snickers.
“I’ll be at work most of the day, but I’ll be back in time to get ready for Latson’s,” Juliana says. “Did you bring any party clothes?”
“I’m sure I have something.” I glance at my suitcases. “What kind of place is it? A club?”
“It’s an apartment upstairs.”
I look at the ceiling. “Really?”
“Latson’s a buddy of mine,” Pete says. “We work together.”
“Why is he having a party?”
“For the hell of it.”
Good reason. “Well, if anyone needs to party, it’s this girl.” I point to myself. “Sounds like fun.”
Juliana bounces on her toes
. “Did I tell you how glad I am you’re here?”
“I think more than once,” Pete says and starts to push her out the door. “See you when the sun shines, Little J.”
“Stop it!” I huff.
He laughs as they disappear down the hallway.
~~~~
“Baby girl. You gave me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.” I rub my eyes. “Yesterday was a mess.”
It’s eleven a.m. Chicago time which means it’s noon back home. My cell was screaming from the nightstand before I blindly answered and was greeted by my frantic father.
“I saw the fire on the news. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Like I said, I wasn’t there.”
He pauses. “How’s your place?”
“Ruined. Everything is soaked from the sprinkler system.”
“Did you call your insurance agent?”
“Not yet.”
I stretch my free arm over my head and my legs in the opposite direction. My dad starts to ramble about buying new furniture, and I turn my attention toward the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. I wonder how warm it will be today.
“Jen?”
“What?”
“Are you listening to me?”
No. “Yes.”
“What did I just say?”
“Umm.” I bite my thumbnail.
He sighs. “So what made you decide to drive to Pete’s?”
“He called at the right time and got on my case about not visiting.”
“Ah,” he says. Through the phone, I hear a door close and assume he’s stepped outside. “I’m surprised you went. Did work give you some time off because of the fire?”
I close my eyes. “No. Jay’s is closing, Dad. I’m out of a job.”
“What?”
“My boss needs to spend time with her sick husband. She sold the restaurant.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.” I roll over on my side. “I guess it’s time to figure shit out.”
“Jennifer Marie!”
“What?”
He chuckles. “You definitely have some shit to figure out.”
“Right?” I pick at some fuzz on the comforter.
“Honey, listen,” his voice softens. “You deserve a break. You’ve put in hundreds of hours at Jay’s and you’re always on your feet. You’re one of the hardest working people I know. Take some time to regroup and focus on you.”
“I feel like I should be job hunting.”
“Are you going to go bankrupt in the next few weeks?”
“Probably not.”
“Then, there you go. What do the kids say nowadays? You need to ‘do you’.”
I laugh. My dad is a high school English instructor and he tries to stay up on current slang.
My mom calls for my dad in the background. “Hold on,” he says. His voice is muffled as he tells her I’m fine and with Pete. He returns to our conversation. “All right, baby girl. Your mom and I need to run errands. Promise me you’ll keep us in the loop and tell us when you’re headed home.”
“I will. I may need your help with the insurance claim anyway.”
“Okay. Try to relax and have fun. I’ll talk to you soon.”
We say I love you and goodbye, and I toss my phone aside. I flop back against the pillow. Maybe my dad is right. The time has come to ‘do me’. It seems like I’ve been on the same path forever, caught in an endless cycle, unable to switch direction. I tend bar and fail at relationships. That’s my life.
Pushing my hair off my forehead, I look around the bedroom, my eyes landing on my guitar. I can definitely spend more time working on my music while I’m here. That qualifies as ‘doing me’. Glancing around again, I notice the sunlight a second time and make a mental note to get more vitamin D, too. Then, I snuggle into the blankets and figure a few naps might be in order. Slowly, a smile creeps across my face.
I can do whatever the hell I want.
My mind begins to swirl with possibilities. I can’t remember when I’ve had this much free time. I can do whatever I feel like without worrying about a guy or a schedule. Despite all that has happened, it feels good. So good, I think I’ll make it my rule.
My cardinal rule.
Starting today, Jen will only do what makes her happy.
Deciding coffee will bring me joy, I throw back the covers. Yawning, I make my way to the kitchen to peruse the countertop. I find a Keurig instead of a traditional coffee pot. Score, I think as I open the drawer beneath it and find the K-Cups. After I pop a Green Mountain Vanilla Crème into the machine, I search for a mug and come across a white board hanging on the refrigerator. There’s a note from Pete:
If you want to eat, we need food. At the store.
Knowing my brother, he’ll bring back nothing but vegetables and protein. Coupled with Juliana’s gym comment, I realize staying here won’t hurt my waistline.
When my coffee is done, I head outside to enjoy it. Sitting in one of the two chairs on my brother’s small balcony, I take in the sights and sounds of the city below. Pete lives on the eastern edge of Lincoln Park, which isn’t too far from Lake Michigan. It’s the complete opposite of home, which is why he loves it. We grew up on a dead-end, dirt road with very few neighbors. Here, there are people everywhere. Most walk, some ride bikes. It looks like they are all wearing ear buds because I can see the cords. Car horns and a siren sound in the distance, and I mentally add exploring to my list of happy things to do with my free time. I like this atmosphere. It feels charged, but in a good way. Like everyone has somewhere important to go and something important to do.
I’d like to be one of those people.
After my coffee disappears, I head to the shower. I take my time soaping and shaving, and when the water runs cold, I pull back the curtain to grab a towel. Without the water in my ears I hear a weird thrumming noise. Confused, I make sure the faucet is off and I didn’t screw something up. I mean, I only turned a knob, but the sound appears to be coming through the wall. Satisfied it’s not the pipes, I wrap a towel around myself and crack the bathroom door.
It’s music. My brother must be home.
Drying off, I secure the towel under my arms. I didn’t think to bring my clothes with me; I’m going to have to remember I’m not living alone anymore. In a few steps I reach my room, and it hits me that the music is loud. I mean loud, as if I’m the one who is playing it. It’s obvious that it’s coming from the apartment above this one, not the living room like I thought. The lyrics to Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch” ring crystal clear. The song reminds me of when my brothers got busted for playing it at home. My mother wasn’t impressed by the use of the word fuck despite the catchy guitar riffs.
Since Pete’s not here, I drop the towel and find my underwear, unable to stop my body from swaying to the music. Once the girls are secure, I turn around to find some clothes. It feels good to dance, so I roll my hips as I bend over to dig through my suitcase. When the chorus of the song plays, I stop searching to pull my hair off my neck and hold it on top of my head. I grind down to the floor and back up again. Then, I resume my seductive search by leaning over the bed and shaking my ass.
Apparently, my inner stripper wants to play today.
Finding a pair of shorts, I swing them over my head. They go flying because, let’s face it, I’m not a real stripper. I turn around to pick them up and stop dead in my tracks.
There is a guy standing in the doorway.
Watching me.
Our eyes lock. He opens his mouth and says something, but all I can hear is the whoosh of my pulse and Buckcherry. As I step back, my mind registers the fact that his body takes up most of my exit and he has a sleeve of tattoos down one arm. As I try to find my voice he says, “Don’t scream.”
What the hell? Don’t scream?
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I know Pete.”
What? Creep! “Get out!”
“Okay!” He takes a step into the hallway. “Do you know when he will be –?”
“I said get out!” I pick up the closest thing to me and throw it at him which, unfortunately, happens to be a pair of balled up socks.
He dodges my attack and smiles.
“This isn’t funny!”
His smile grows. “You’re right. It’s not funny.” He turns to leave, but stops. His eyes give me an appreciative once over. “It’s definitely somethin’ though.”
I march forward and slam the door in his face. Then, I grab my phone and text my brother.
Get home now!
Chapter Four
After I put on some clothes, I yank open the bedroom door to see if my uninvited guest is still around. He’s not in the hallway, so I venture out to search the rest of the apartment. When there’s no sign of him in the living room or the kitchen, I check Pete’s room. I also look out on the balcony, just in case.
He’s disappeared.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, I wait for my pulse to slow. I can’t believe that idiot would just waltz in here like he owned the joint! Has he ever heard of knocking? Speaking of, I wonder if Pete forgot to lock the front door. I push myself off the couch to check. It’s secure.
Creeper must have a key, unless he’s Spiderman. Maybe he did come in through the balcony. I left the sliding door open.
Minutes later, my brother returns. I hear the deadbolt drop, then watch him open the door with his foot. One hand holds plastic bags while the other holds keys. His eyes dart around the room. “What happened?”
I walk toward him and reach for the bags. “One of your friends scared the shit out of me.”
He looks confused. “Who?”
“How am I supposed to know? He was tall and had tattoos down one arm.”
“That’s Latson.” Pete reaches for his back pocket and grabs his vibrating phone. He reads the message and types out a response. “I told him he could stop by to pick up my beer pong table for tonight.”
“You have a beer pong table?”
“Yeah. It’s in your room. Jules probably put it in the closet.”
I carry Pete’s purchases into the kitchen and set them on the counter. “Well, can you tell him you have company? I don’t appreciate strangers staring at me in my underwear.”